#it's one of those 'well I'm not gonna say no'

[court-jobi]

Meal Prep

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's works or the lovely art found here))

Pairing: Bakugo x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5k

Rating: M | 18+ (begone, minor extras- it's too spicy for you, Kacchan says so)

Warnings: hand-holding sexy times, first time!Bakugou/reader, food and commitment as a love language, FEELINGS, accidental quirk use, pet names, piv smut, established relationship, wrap it up, this is fantasy

Summary:

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together.  And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

A/N: It's spice, yall. Someone needs to rein their quirk in, and I'm not naming names (Katsuki Bakugou)

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

When Bakugou turned to his side -feeling the hand at his lower back- and went to lift you up on the counter for some kisses, something just... came over you. 

Your moves were tame at first- rubbing his chest and shoulders at the moment’s reprieve. Just giving yourself sweetly into it. Now with his hands on you, he got really hard really fast, and made some quip about you getting fresh between shared ravishments of love. 

Sure, you were biting at his lips longer than usual. Sure, you were hanging onto him in a manner far more codependent than you'd ever claim to be. By the look in his eye, he wasn't ever gonna be caught complaining, though. You’ve  been stared at and longed after across any room you're in just as wantonly, and he's the first to second your opinion when it matters. He calls you every night he's away for missions, and stays his need to sleep just to be able talk to you while your time zones are flip-flopped. 

Although, it was rather hungry of you to be so enamored by him today: where even the simplest conversation about the prices of strawberries going up made you fall slack into him. 

He asks what brought this on~ 

"Just love having you here,” you surmised, “I– like not doing these things alone." 

You’d made the economical offer to cook together and split the bills. Since your diets were fairly similar anyway, you might as well buy in bulk. He was in an indulgent headspace tonight, since he’d been laying on the pet names thick all day; this, his rare day off. Yours is tomorrow, but you were fortunate enough to get off at a decent hour to get the grocery shopping done early- with him. 

– only Bakugou enforced a strict habit of insisting on taking care of the receipt at the store, but never letting you settle up your half. The ‘slip of the mind’ he suffered from the first time was no longer an accident, but a routine.

Now, two stacks of four portioned meals each lay side by side prepped in the fridge. Some additional protein packs top your stash to keep on hand between long night drives; small and compact, they help fuel you mid-mission so you don’t have another repeat of a blood sugar drop while enroute with a squad of heavyweight heroes making a cross-city trek. Bakugou preferred to pick out treats as a surprise in those meal kits. Trivial as gift giving goes, but it offers some enrichment to your otherwise predictable menu. You haven’t seen what he’d snuck in the cart underneath that bag of string beans this time, and just saw their packed away presence in the fridge, teasing you.

But back at the sink where he’d begun to wash up, you ignored their mystery. Now, you just wanted to show him how much he was appreciated.

Yes, something switched in your brain: making meals together, sharing cleanup duties, counting these little moments as blessings and feeling like life’s weight wasn't all just on you put you in a mood. You both might not have necessarily gotten too fresh before today, but this wasn’t simply a domestic dance with lust.

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s sharp and fast to stop you from doing something stupid, and was the loudest voice in the room when your top 20 ranking was announced across the agency conference table. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together. 

And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you.

He wanted to show you he loved you; down to the grind of meal prepping on a Sunday night. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

Your adoring man nuzzles and talks to your neck, "Gettin' sappy again, angel."

He is down bad for you: no matter how sassy he makes the observation sound– that scratchy, rumble tone doesn’t help with your dizzying brain at all.

You offer up your neck a little, scratching along the base of his spine for full, soothing effect.

"Whass’wrong with that?" 

Bakugou simply purrs back happily.

"Cuz if you start saying shit like that, I'mma start sayin' shit. Shit I won't be able to stop spewing once I start."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

He senses your heart peeking through your words. Your eyes carry the message loud and clear, too, though they’re having a hard time staying open from the headrush. 

Lifting his heavy head, Bakugou studies you thoughtfully, before stepping into this soft side of yours.

"You don't want me to stop." 

Of course you don’t, so you shake your head.

"You want me to stay." 

Through a smile, you give your shy agreement. 

Even more vulnerable, Bakugou’s rare touch of a smile makes its appearance,

"You want me to stay forever? Make sure my lady's fed and happy?”

"Yes," you sink into him, happier than ever. 

"Looks like I'm staying then. Already made you dinner. Whaddya want me to do next?" 

"Hmm– kiss me?" 

Bakugou leans in to grant you your simple wish- but fully laps at your mouth instead. He means to entice, draw things out, make you want him that much more while giving himself nothing but torture at the same time. He’s used to making himself sweat; at least this was the fun simmer that didn’t burn.

The blonde moans low in his chest when you brush his cheek’s scar with your thumb. 

"Whaddya want, pretty girl,” Bakugou scoops you in close, memorizing this hot look of need you’re having right in the middle of chores, “What, y’want me to kiss you forever too?" 

Fixed on his lips -currently teased between his teeth- you give a rare curse that contrasted your sugar sweet demeanor, 

“Hell yes--" 

Kisses smash between you as sloppily as you want while he pulls you off the counter, over to the couch, and plops you on his lap, where you adjust to a squat over him and followed his persistent pull for you to sit. 

Pink lovemarks all over your neck, Bakugou’s rough attentions drive his hands to go just about anywhere he wants in a need-driven frenzy. Whether to warm you up or keep himself from perspiring too much? Who's to say.

Suddenly as he growled out his pleasure at your hips fitting up upon his lap, Bakugou fisted your  shirt in each palm– he tugs you deliciously tight as you kiss the daylights out of him.

Through his satisfied chuckles, he thought all was good until he started feeling some pops muffling in his hands. 

Bakugou knows what's coming– it's the speed of this onset that freaks him out-

His senses shout at him lightning quick, so it's a miracle that Bakugou immediately threw his hands out, shooting off hot sparks with palms out towards the coffee table- spooking you into a yelp. 

The panic settled just as soon as it came– you stared at each other after the round of pops stopped. 

Somehow, you were never afraid he’d ever sweat to the point of harming you, so you rolled with it as if he didn’t just almost blow you to bits. Must just be excited. 

Cheeky, you  thumbed to your bedroom before mimicking a Dynamight-style ‘stressball’ in your palm.

"Need your gloves?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, "Fuck.... Fine."

As if a little coverage on his hands was going to be the end of the world. 

"I could make a condom joke instead, so be grateful!~" 

A pruned hand smacked your thigh in protest. “Har. Har.”

As you dismounted him (since you knew he was just gonna be pouty and sulk until he could touch you again), you pulled him up by his neckline so that he followed hungrily behind you and didn't cause a stink over it. In your room, you dug in his designated helmet for his gloves, which he roughly handled and donned while you rounded his strong set of shoulders and kissed him through it across the bits of skin you could reach.

"Can't believe I gotta put these fuckin’- things on- every time I get hot and fuckin' bothered-” 

"We'll figure that out, honey. Hey,” you pull him up to your sightline, “You still got me?”

Gloved but no less handsome as ever, Bakugou looks far too dazed to try his hand at driving your bike. Better he crash here, with you. He grabs you close; his answer.

“-- then there’s no complaints here. It’ll work; for now."

He moans kind of high and happy into your kisses on his mouth again. The sound ripples in you, coaxing more love out from your needy fingers and gentle kneading and soft layers that he’s mad he couldn't reciprocate anymore. He voiced this displeasure when he tugged up on your thighs and tipped you onto the bed. Setting a knee between your thighs and capturing a hand in his to pin you, Bakugou firmed up his brows, 

"Well, maybe I wanna feel you BACK, huh?"

"I get that, Katsu-honey~ we'll-- work on it. Learning curve." 

One thing the Hero World would be fast to assume about Katsuki Bakugou is that he'd take whatever he wanted from someone making eyes at him; that he'd be dominant and mean and addictive and that one might regret pushing his buttons in the bedroom, because it would be far too much. ‘Better not test him, he’d be too rough.’ But you hardly think this way, as you have him here:

Here, you look up to him, lovesick and shy, pulling him down because he feels too far away. And tempered as he is when he's in deep, Bakugou reads you and quickly responds in kind. He does kneel over and meets your lips, but freezes like steel as he tries to figure out how to be close but not crush you, despite your yanking for it.

"Katsuki~~"

"I'm not dropping ninety-five kilos a’ dead weight on you, dummy,” he chortled, “Not gonna happen."

"But I want you~~"

"Oh, you want me, huh? Needy girl..." Pets caressing down your cheek, you cup your Katsuki’s arm instead as it trails gingerly down the neck, stopping at your collar, until you force it down its path more towards your chest, and lower. 

His touch carries very little pressure. Rather, you see him just watching his own movements in a haze- "Pretty, pretty girl."

A thought crosses your mind and you feel confident; if you voice it, he’ll answer you honestly. 

"Have you never dated anyone before, ‘Dynamight’?"

Without an immediate defense, you're happy to see he’s still letting you guide his hand to slide under your shirt collar and sift along your bra line. 

Unphased, he answers a gentle -but surprising- ‘no’.

"No high school crushes?" you press, flattered.

"Tch, I went to UA. When would I have had time for that?" Bakugou slides your strap and shirt more to the side as he explores, then kisses the shoulder.

Breathy, you challenge after your happy hums. “Kirishima did..."

He only gave a bemused scoff.

“And look where that got him. Is he anywhere close to being #1?" asks the #5 ranked Pro Hero.

"No,"

Bakugou’s gloved palms have successfully reached your breasts, pulling the rest up and off with confidence now, eyeing over your skin deliciously. 

"Guess who is?"

"Y-you~"

"Damn right." Bakugou licks and teases around the space your nipple would lie under the cup, "And y’know how I did it?"

Sights locked onto him, pulling other side down to sift your underclothes up to his gloved hand's touch.

"I'm a fast learner. That's how you get to be the best. Learn fast, do it right. Gets you results at the top of the board. I'm damn good at learning something I want; 'specially when that something's you."

You can’t keep quiet now. Not at this, your forever favorite Pro Hero undressing you with eyes and hands, 

"Ugh God..."

His hands pawed at every bit of you.

"Name's Katsuki, Angel Eyes. But I'll answer to that if you want~"

Your sexy laugh turned to a moan as he sucked hard at your neck to please you, then worked on getting himself fully topless to match. Once laid back with a delightful little jiggle of everything wonderful, Bakugo's sight lay fixed on you, hands running everywhere he could reach now. 

For once, he looked a little scattered, unsure what to do next besides pet you and breathe.

You teased a leg up his, and tried prying his hard shell open again, "There's no wrong way to play, y'know~"

"Heh?"

"You look like you're working-" you rubbed your own tits, a handful each, "-trying to figure out your next move. But really, there's no bad option. It's just me."

Understanding, he nodded, but still looked conflicted.

"And I don't bite, promise~" you tried for levity, finally making him chuckle a little and bring life to his smirk.

"Y'might as well, looking at me like that."

"What, this?" you kneaded and pushed your tits together.

"Fuck, me..."

"S'what I'm saying."

Then in a sweet move, Bakugou pulls you up to cradle you by your jawline and kisses you lovingly, then holds your foreheads in place while he takes a couple practiced inhales. 

Beneath you, you see how excited he is, but also how tense his core has become. It ever so barely trembles.

A muted string of a confession leaves him, 

"I talk big shit... but... never done this part." –this part being sex, you now gather- "Sue me if I'm tryna do right by you. I- feels like my heart's literally goin’ a mile a minute here, what the hell..."

"Mine too~" you run a soothing drag of your nails up his arms before smoothing up and over to his waist, "You are doing right by me, though~ just go with what feels right. I just want you, Kats."

"Yeah?"

"I want you,” you assure him with charged-up love and desire for him, “-so bad."

That was seemingly all he needed to clear his head because he fell right down to you, crawling beside you and scooping you up into his arms where he could trail his hand all up the expanse of your back. Somewhere in there, he slipped off your pants and took the chance to feel all up and down your legs with greedy chuckles.

He'd moan what a gorgeous sight and gentle thing you were, his mouth leaving no limb untouched or unpraised. He's also high on the attention you gave him right back, especially when you tipped him onto his back and kissed along the lines of his chest. Bruises and dips mark up his otherwise perfect skin, but you're pleased to have your Katsuki enjoying this if his sighs are any indication of his arousal. 

Bakugou quirks a brow as he settles back, preparing for you to mount and have your way with him. Consent is king and he doesn't wanna force you to be in a position you don't want.

“Y’want me here?” he asks with hands supporting your waist. “Show me how it's done?”

The sight below you has you ready to pass out on the spot. He’s handsome and horny and all yours.

"Ready when you are~" 

The line between Dynamight and the man behind the title is blurred as he settles into a cocky smirk. He's proud and never one to shy away from attention- not even this, so it seems. 

Bakugou chips his chin up at you with his full support. 

"Atta girl~" 

You whimper when you grind on top of him at first: not simply at how hot the first pass is for you after so long, but how wrecked Bakugou looks as he exhales with force. It's an effort to will himself still, and you love the look of it on him. 

Pride surges in you as you sway yourself over him, checking him over and making sure he's comfortable. 

“You got me?”

His sights open again, to you in all your glory. Any edge he carries in his waking hours is gone as he's let comfort and ease take the wheel over his nervous system. 

Bakugou is pretty damn adorable this way, but you'd only ever say so when he's fully confident- not out on a limb trying something this new with you for the first time. Here, you'd build up his confidence and see how he rises to the challenge. But you’ll go slow, above all else.

Fingers find renewed life as he squeezes you,

“I got you,” he says in wonder, getting there, “I gotcha." 

But right before you lifted up to let him shove his waistline down, he stopped you from sitting with a hard hand at your tummy. In a quick switch, he's cursing nervously about needing to wrap it up. 

Before he could toss you off, you brought his face back to you with a tender hand, keeping him from getting up altogether and bolting for his bag slung somewhere in the kitchen. 

"I'm covered on that front, hon,” you stifle any laughing at his earnest pursuit, “Planned a bit ahead- got in with the nurse a few months back."

Bakugou stills, but then his confusion and concern give way to something deeper. He’s looking at you, awed. 

"You're on it-?"

"Mhm. I'm all set, baby. There's no one else, just– just you. I won't stop ya if you'd feel better with one on, just wanted you to know. " 

Fondness for the hero-turned-friend-turned-lover made you rake your fingers through that mess of blond hair you daydream of petting and bringing out a groan from him all by yourself, 

"However you want me: inside or out~"

Recognition heats him up more, "You sexy, fuckin' girl..."

Catching you back in his arms, Bakugou falls in love all over again. He’s sinking into you sideways, hiking your leg up and over his hip and just holding you close– your man is all in for this the moment he's submerged in you.

"FUUUUUuuuuuck yehehehess…”

You're overwhelmed and giddy and full, and find that it's not just you who's laughing by the time you make eye contact. It's thrilling and perfect that you're here -doing it- and you’re obsessed with how close you two are in this moment that it makes your relief palpable and light-hearted. 

After heated kisses to get him to actually start moving, you're turning every laugh into a love-filled moan: a sound that Bakugo chases with everything in him. 

Eventually the momentum is like a run, fueling him with the more he hears, and is soon tipping you back to settle on top himself-- in charge and letting you take backseat. By how you gawk up at the show of strength, it’s more than alright with you~

"Oh my God, yes sir!!" you squeal seeing him in charge.

"Yeah? Like this, pretty girl?” Bakugou is in his element, despite having just joined the party moments ago, “Y’like your ‘Backpack’ on top, makin sure you don't move a fuckin’ muscle?"

Each huff and moan he makes glues your sights to the spot- head dipping to where you are slamming together, which only makes him ramp it up even more to give you a show.

‘Yeah yeah yeah-- oh FUCK, why haven't I gotten my head out of my ass sooner, you are FUCKING incredible!--’

The sounds Bakugou’s making are passionate and raw, even more so as you're close and you tell him so through near tears. You’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast for you- but then why wouldn't you when the sight of the love of your life is rocking your world off its hinges and sending you into the best headspin?

"Do it baby, do it do it do it~" he growls the freedom deliciously to you– so you will your hand to let go of the comforter and start rubbing your clit wildly to get you over the edge, till you're bucking up and siezing through relieved sobs. 

Bakugou almost damn near chokes on his own shock at the feel, yet only slows a little bit while he holds you down, holds you through it. Once you’re reaching up for his shoulders again -your cue that you're ok and settled - he dives down to your level for some hard kisses as a reward.

Somehow he breaks from the haze of you deliriously giggling for him soon enough, gasping out  desperate lines that nearly made your heart explode– all while going right back to fighting like mad to go over the edge like you did.

“Fuck, I love you.. fuck, I love you, fuck fuck fuck–”

The closer he gets, the hand pinning yours to the bed starts to burn– which takes your attention.

From watching him fuck you to check your joined wrists is more urgent: Bakugou’s forearm is trembling and visibly sweating all down to the cuff absorbing the rest.

Pretty much sobered you right up by the incoming pain, you're surprised, but you fake it in your bliss and rush him along anyway, until he cries out and shudders into your neck as he finishes– kissing it lightly in thanks muttering all sorts of nonsense you couldn't make out once he sinks onto you- spent.

“Fun, right baby?”

Bakugou’s grunting at every little move of his body.

“S’... M’dizzy,” he rasps, “S’it always dizzy?”

Under a spell yourself, unearth some spare sass n’ sweetness from your back pocket, 

“When it's good,” you give your valid opinion, your free hand making your mark along his arm to settle him down, “when they listen to what you need, n’ when they can provide- even before any clothes come off. I find it best that way, that is…”

Bakugou’s head lolls to the side, pressing a kiss to the tender space just in front of your ear.

“That it is…”

Your palm is pulsing. Hot. But still, you let him find rest, wondering more if he was ok since he was never EVER this gushy, but as his release turned into relieved laughs, Bakugou bridged over you to blow your hair back with a playful gust of his lips and gave you some more indulgent kisses. Sweet as ever, you kissed him back and pressed into his thumb working over your still joined hands.

"You like me~" you taunted.

"huh?~~”

"Y’said you loved me..."

Katsuki giggled, "Shuddup, dummy."

This prompted your tug to free your hand again, hissing when he released and revealed your palm: tinged with an onset of a blister, splotchy with heat–

"THE FUCK??!!” Bakugou noticed the damage himself, “DAMMIT, why didn't you SAY I was cooking you alive??" 

At his apology ridden eyes, you didn't want this hiccup to stall the moment you'd just shared. Flexing each of your hands easily, you shook off any look of pain and beamed up at him instead. 

"You weren't! It just got a lil hot~" he looked at your face again, confused as to why you're not upset at his repeat offense, "BBQ, amiright?" 

Your no-longer sweetheart growls down at you, textbook Bakugou BiteTM.  "NOT. funny." 

You laughed at the nature of it all. 

"I'm ok, baby. Whew... Oh my God~"

Your relief is something fuzzy and delighted to you, but knowing how your darling Katsuki gets in his own head about how fiery his quirk can be, you give him a little wink to quell any fears. 

It works, as your assurances always do. He admires your sated bones and lays another sloppy smooch on you. A silent promise; he’ll take a look at your hand in a bit. 

In moving up your body to reach his shirt to wipe himself with, he slipped out, still hot and heavy (given that he came already) and undeniably turned on- even in this state. You cringed at the mess hitting the cooler air. Hearing your complaint, Bakugou pecked your cheek and nuzzled you back adoringly. 

"Love you, angel.”

"I love you too~" your easy reply passes your lips wistfully.

A dry ache in his chest, he made to rise and see about getting you two a little more comfortable, feeling that same wetness too and grumbled about washing his damn hands, but you stopped him with a little whine.

"Stay~~" 

Crimson eyes softening to yours, the boyish charm returns to Bakugou’s otherwise stoic demeanor. It's a sign he’s clearly plagued in an afterglow buzz.

"Cmon, lemme clean us up. I need the fan on." 

Even colder? Darn his body temp. "Nnng.." 

He gets up anyway, but promises his return with a chip to your chin, "I'll stay, gorgeous. Told you so. I'll stay as long as you want tonight." 

When he came back with the wet washcloth, he coaxed you to stand on your own and go take care of yourself, too. The top sheet is changed and re-tucked in before you got back– mismatched from what remained on the bed before, but you didn't really care. 

He’s made himself comfortable in the bed, only slipping on his boxers you can barely catch the edge of from the sheet in his lap. It’s only made you fold all over again- proof that your boyfriend knows where you keep your spare sheets in the first place. 

You slipped on a fresh pair of panties in your pit stop, but went hunting for your loose shirt again, not bothering with anything under. This got Bakugo's attention seems,

"What, you cold?"

"Little bit~"

"M’over here, then," he patted his chest, you joined him, only to have him sneak his arm under your shirt and tease your tits again, "Don't see why you need this shitty thing while I'm around, just gettin' in my way.."

Giggling and sinking into him, you couldn't fault him. He did have to stay gloved for so long earlier. You laid a kiss straight on his cheek while he had his fill of you.

"Happy girl?" he sings down to you.

Happy girl indeed. "Mhm~ Happy Murder God?"

"Heh-yeah,” Bakugou schooled his breaths to sync to you, “I could get used to this."

"We'll figure out the glove thing."

"...M'sorry for almost toasting you.”

“Eh- I can handle a little snap-crackle-pop.”

Bakugou snorts, tapping out the jingle beat for ‘rice crispies’ on your shoulder. All's forgiven on that front. 

“Really shoulda thrown those in the washer," he grimaced above you, looking over at the door where he set them back with his riding gear. 

"We'll get it later," You snuggled down in his arms, happy to take his leftover heat. “Washer’s all yours~”

"Yeah. Yours is better than mine anyway,” Bakugou leans his head fully back onto your propped up pillows. A contented sigh forces the rest of his muscles to lax. “--piece of crap rattles like it's about to blow up. Yer dishwasher’s better too.”

As he chatters away, he played with the ends of your hair absently. 

“I thought you were my dishwasher?”

Bakugou pauses his twirls, “Oi, I never said I was signing up for that! I was bein’ nice.”

“Yes, you were~” you kissed his neck to force his rising growl down. Works every time. You're back to snuggling in his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ll do them next time.”

“If you’re fast enough, slowpoke, then sure.”

You can barely make out your washer thrumming in the next room as well as the even more distant smooth jazz channel streaming from the living room, but remembered your earlier mindset and just hugged him tighter.

This, you'd certainly miss when he went home tonight. Feeling this close, this warm together, having shared something really special and intimate that you couldn't take back for the life of you. It might make things even worse when it comes to your attachment to him– you two are pushing it at the agency with minimal touches unless there's something really scary that forces his walls down in order to comfort you- or vice versa. After all, your affinity for one another is no one’s business but your own… but you typically are satisfied by his more public ties to you in all the ways that matter- mostly to others in your circle and strangers who he threatens to kick if they keep starin’ at you.

But here, Katsuki holding you is second nature. His true nature. He tells you he cares with every returned text, knowing look, and tender touch he keeps limited in shared company- with you as the sole recipient. 

You can only wish this could be your life everyday. Where you can maybe even start your own agency down the line somewhere; Japan’s first true power couple who can take names like none other. Launch yourselves higher and higher, work yourselves out of a job, and take a retirement in whatever way looks best for you–

When you get quiet in your thoughts, he even knows your 'hiding' tell. Your pillow tilts down to try and get your attention, finally demanding your eyes with a question laced with clear thinking,

"You meant stay stay,” Bakugou asked gently, “-didn't you. Not just- for the night.” 

You softened… nodding ever so much. Leaving room, in case he didn't agree.

What you wouldn't give for him to be your meal prep partner till you both retire from hero work- and then some.

Either nothing went through his mind, or one singular anthem bounced around in there, because all Bakugou did to your little melting expression was kiss you softly, turning you back into the bed, and flopping solidly on top of your chest.

"...gimme 30 minutes. Then let's go get my shit. I call the front room work table."

You're over the moon, and your jaw drops on its own. He’s so ready- barely even thought it through! Or maybe… he was always thinking of it, and was waiting on you.

With that excitement flooding you, you peppered his hair full of kisses until he groaned for you to stop– only after the first ten...

[sm-baby]

EPISODE 3 TRAILER ANALYSIS

this is mostly gonna be about Kinger and Pomni's part of the adventure because <3

I care them sm <3

Do well all agree that these scenes are connected? Pomni and Kinger are stuck in an elevator

THEY GOT THE SHOTGUN FROM A CORPSE YEAAAH

WHAT IS THIS LOOK I'M SO WORRIED ABOUT HIM IM SO WORRIED ABOUT HIMMMMMM

Kinger in a writing desk... its either gonna be one of those things where he reads something cryptic and her turns up and sees a danger in front of him

... or he remembered a memory over something he read.

ALSO GOOSWORX WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

i'm having major Gummigoo flashbacks and Goosworx LOVES her quiet talking scenes, I'M SO WORRIED ABOUT KINGER and I am not ready for the intimate conversation these two are going to have.

GOD SHE'S SO PRETTY also the hand mounted in the corner probably says that the hand on THIS screenshot

isnt attached to a person at all

also according to lighting, these scenes are probably connected

honorable mention hehe he probably poked her eye here hehe they're so cute

in conclusion, Pomni and Kinger are my newest darling. daddy daughter date is so near and dear to me. she is a girl dad, daddy's lil angel, his little princess w a disorder and kinger holding her hand and putting her behind him has ruined me, I will not be ok for a hot minute byeee bye bye bye <3

[ddejavvu]

hmmm mean!logan who makes a GREAT brat tamer, who will give your ass a quick slap in public for embarrassing him or talking back to him and gets you over his lap the moment you’re alone to really let you have it

bro… I need a hard, firm hand to show me who’s boss lmao

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, spanking, brat taming, don't like don't read.

"I want some." You appeal to Logan one day, glancing at the rather intimidating drink in his hand. It's straight liquor, no sweet syrups or even ice to tamp down the effects. He drinks hard, something he's built a tolerance to over his long life, aided by his remarkable healing abilities. What he drinks makes your eyes water and your throat itch, but today you're feeling brave- perhaps from the drink in your own hand.

"No." He says simply, raising his glass to his lips and taking a hefty swig. It lowers the volume of liquor in the glass substantially, but he swallows it like it's water. You watch as the muscles in his neck contract slightly with the motion of his throat, and perhaps they tense at the sharp taste, but he remains mostly reactionless to the drink he's downing. You, however, would be tipping over.

"Come on, please? Just a little bit? I just want to try." You plead, bracing your hands on his arm in hopes that he'll take pity on you. But he doesn't, and all that's sent your way is a warning glance.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen." You insist, "If I get all loopy you can just take me home."

"I said no." His voice is gruff, and something indignant sparks in your chest. Fine. You're a grown woman- you can order one yourself. You've seen Logan order it a thousand times, you know it by heart and you'll pay for it yourself. He can't stop you.

You spin with a huff towards the bar, stalking towards the bartender with determination that Logan should be afraid of. Seconds before you can reach the bar, your fingertips inches away from the smooth, albeit sticky surface, Logan's hand grips your arm tight, and you feel a sharp, stinging sensation against your skin as he lands a harsh smack on your ass.

The slap is rough, tough, and forceful, just the way Logan manhandles you into the dingy hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It's cut off from the crowd but you can still hear the patrons inside, mere feet away as Logan's scowl bores down on you.

"What did I fucking say?"

"You said no, like you control me," You scoff, "You're not my dad! I'm well over 21, Logan, I can drink whatever I want!"

"Not when I plan on fucking you into the mattress tonight, stupid." He snarls, and your stomach flips with an intensity you know you'll be feeling all night long, "You don't think there's a reason I'm trying to keep you sober? Those fruity little drinks don't do shit that water can't fix. If you downed one of these you'd be sick for a week.”

"I thought-" You start, but he plows on, undeterred.

"You think I care what you drink? Knock yourself out, cowgirl," He snickers, his irritation gone but not forgotten as he condescends, "If you wanna shoot shit that'll make your head spin, then do it. But not tonight. I want you to remember my name so you can scream it."

[thetransfemininereview]

Do you have any recommendations for gaining access to these books? I have a pretty long list of ones I want to read but can't afford most of them. The library has the big ones (Whipping Girl, Detransition Baby, Nevada) but the newer or less well known ones have been difficult to find

No this is actually so real though. Let's talk about it.

One of the big problems that I'm trying to address here is the fact that there is a lack of ability for trans books to reach their perhaps core audience, trans people. Over the last few years trans librarians have been trying to increase the number of trans books in circulation, but that's super contingent on where you live. Not to mention the fact that, at least in the US, states are actively trying to criminalize circulating trans books in libraries.

I know Tumblr is allergic to economics a lot of the time, but you've gotta look at the math to understand why this is the current state of things. Essentially it's a vicious cycle. Lots of trans people can't afford to buy a $25 hardcover on a whim, and traditional publishers put a lot of stock into how well a book performs on release, cause that's how they make money. So when the core audience can't afford it and isn't marketable, they register that as a lower demand, which means that fewer trans books get published, fewer end up in libraries, and the cost of an individual book is driven higher. Low demand, high price. Then because the price is high, trans people cant afford the books, and the cycle continues.

It is the dilemma of the transfemme author that most of their core audience is also gonna be transfemme. It's a self-selecting process that's very hard to break out of. And at the end of the day, there just isn't very much money to go around in the trans community because trans people so frequently get cut off from generational wealth. So when you get an ecosystem of transfemmes selling books to other transfemmes who also sell books to them....

I took a class on the Sociology of Art a few years ago, and one of my core takeaways was that the boundaries of a field (yes my teacher liked Bourdieu, come for her ass, not mine) are fundamentally governed by institutions and entities with the money and power to dictate their rules of play. In Althusser's language, you would call those ISAs (Ideological State Apparatuses). When you read Weber, he talks about how culture needs to have some level of social legitimation in order to become a force of power in the world (I butchered that but it's the gist lol). And it's like.

The people who have the money to read the books dictate which books receive the money. Organizations like Lambda Literary, presses, big name publishers, etc. One of the big problems in the field of trans literature up to this point is that the only people who've had the money to produce social legitimation from the organizing schema/matrix of an ISA have also only chosen to read a very small slice of the extant literature. Then, because those non-profits and presses and companies only champion a small selection of books, that in turn dictates for those who have less money which of those books deserve social attention, critical acclaim, sales, library slots, etc.

And like, all of that is an illusion, but it produces a material reality for the transfemme author. It dictates the material conditions for the reproduction of said literature and who can participate in it.

So, what's to be done about it?

"Buzz" is a big deal in the publishing industry. A good review, an award, a thinkpiece - all of that can be the difference between a successful book and a flop. Publishers look for that. If nobody talks about a book and it doesn't sell well, they'll drop the author faster than you can say Susan. Again, vicious cycle. But like, at the end of the day, a "field," an "ISA," a "legitimated" work of art, that's all just a class prerogative. The different between a Very Important Literary Blog and a "person talking about books on the internet" is money. Like. It's just money. The reality of it is really banal.

It's who has the money to read books. It's who has the money and time to write about books. It's who has the money to gain institutional access to book. It's who has the money to read enough to say, "Oh, well that might seem true, but if you look at X, Y, and Z it's clearly not." It takes money to fact check. It takes money to challenge institutional myths. It takes money because when an institution makes a claim about a book and none of the people who care enough to argue with them have the cash to challenge it, the claim tends to stand.

And like, the honest truth is that between the books, the website, and the education, I've spent a lot of money bringing this website online in the form you're reading it in. A lot of the books I've read were really fucking expensive. I grew up in a wealthy family, my parents were accepting. They have both the means and the desire to support my passion projects. I'm lucky.

The goal of The Transfeminine Review is to create at least one independently trans-run website that can challenge that brand of institutional legitimation work from non-profits and big publishers and cis outlets, a website that can actually highlight transfeminine literature as it exists in the world, not as the Big 5 publishers have dictated it. Topside, Metonymy, Arsenal Pulp, LittlePuss, etc. They've all taken on that challenge from the angle of producing books, but there hasn't been a corollary trans secondary ecosystem dedicated to documenting and critiquing them. Or there is, but it's extremely diffuse and hard to find if you don't know exactly what you're looking for. Then there are the general queer outlets, like them. and whatnot, and they do their best but literature is a side hustle at best. There's the queer-helmed literary outlets like Electric Lit (shout out Denne Michele Norris) but they spend most of their time talking about cis authors. None of it is designed to help or review self-published literature from poor authors, and let's be frank, most transfeminine publishing is still done indie or self.

It's an investment, essentially. On the longshot, the hope is that this website will inspire others to do similar work, and that eventually through the collective efforts of trans authors and their readership, we can begin to change the math on trans publishing and help to spread it to a wider audience.

Now.

None of this changes the current reality that trans lit is expensive.

Unless you're lucky, you're probably not gonna find much trans lit at the local library even if you dig for it. Another good place to find free trans books is transreads.org, but their selection is mostly non-fiction, and the fiction is, again, largely the same few books you can find elsewhere. Another good online queer library is https://www.queerliberationlibrary.org/, which might be a good place to look (shoutout to Skye for bringing it to my attention!)

There are a couple of cheaper places to find trans books. If you shop around on itch.io, a lot of self-published trans authors have "name your price" models, which can be more accessible. Creators on itch will also bundle their work on a fairly regular basis, so you can get like 10-20 books for $10, which is, by my token, an excellent price.

If there's a particular author you're interested in, a lot of self-pub trans authors have Patreon accounts where they serialize their novels. You also can find serial (pre-edit) versions of a bunch of books on Scribblehub.

This has gotten steadily less affordable over the last few years cause Amazon is evil, but Kindle Unlimited ($11.99 a month, but there's a free trial) has thousands of trans books. Most of them are erotica, but like, there are a lot of hidden gems in there, and if you're a voracious enough reader, then it'll definitely be much cheaper per book than buying trad.

The problem with all of these, though, is that they tend to favor specific genres and tropes. Like there's only so much variety on itch.io or Scribblehub or transreads.org or KU. So if you like the genre conventions, then awesome! But if you don't it's probably not for you.

And none of it will give you access to some of the rare older tradpub books or the new but scarce releases that I've been going through unless you're willing to pay the full price for them.

I wish I had a better answer, but that's unfortunately the current state of the industry :/

Hopefully this ramble is helpful.

Beth

[beemo-clippin]

Presentiiinngg *drumrolls* Favorite Etho + Bdubs moments of HC10! (Video length: 3:36 min)

There will most definitely be a part two at some point, so I would love to hear any of your favorite moments which I may include there ^-^

Video credit in order of appearance: Bdubs Ep.8 (23:20); Etho Ep. 2 (17:33); Bdubs Ep.6 (7:23); Bdubs Ep.2 (16:00); Etho Ep.3 (6:50); Bdubs Ep.7 (0:56); (1:53); Bdubs Ep.14 (27:19); Bdubs Ep.2 (15:23); Etho Ep.1 (7:17); Bdubs Ep.9 (2:41); Bdubs Ep.2 (16:13); Etho Ep.1 (8:41); Bdubs Ep.2 (16:58).

Bc of the length, the video description for this one is available by request, so please lmk if you would like one!!

Transcription is below cut:

*intro music*

--- 0:05 ---

[Etho] I don't know if you know RBG values but like more like a hundred green

[Bdubs] I don't know if you know HSL

[Etho] *laughs* [Bdubs] but- *laughs*

[Etho] Hue, saturation, luminescence?

[Bdubs] That would be- yeah! Yeah. So that would be a 50L

[Bdubs] "I don't know if you know RGB"

[Etho] *laughs* [Bdubs] *giggles*

[Etho] Well apparently you go HSL not- not RGB, uh huh

[Bdubs] Yeah, HSL's the, uh… that's the, uh, primary

[Etho] The artist standard, you know, yeah

[Bdubs] Yes. This is beautiful

[Etho] Someone that truly understands art

[Bdubs] That's right [Etho] Mhm

--- 0:34 ---

*mischevious music*

[Bdubs] Hullo?

[Etho] Bdubs?

[Bdubs] Woah! *laughs* You're in- you're inside?!

[Etho] Ah I was waiting for you, I decided I would just walk in, you know

[Bdubs] That's so rude, you brought the horse in?

[Etho] Does- does he not belong in here?

[Bdubs] The horse has never been in this house

[Etho] I saw the haybales in here, I thought it was like a-

[Bdubs] No, that's a carpet

[Etho] *chuckles*

[Bdubs] Out! Out. Out

[Etho] Not horse food?

[Bdubs] No. [Etho] Okay, okay

[Bdubs] No, stop it see! Look what happened

--- 1:07 ---

*gentle piano*

[Bdubs] I love this area

[Etho] You got the pink tree

[Bdubs] Yeah

--- 1:11 ---

[Bdubs] This might be pushing it for you, a little bit. I don't want to push you too hard

[Etho] Mhm. You thinking about texturing the floor?

[Bdubs] *laughs*

[Etho] But I can texture too like, I know how to texture

[Bdubs] Yeah yeah yeah! Oh I know you can. I- I know. I know that too much is uncomfortable

[Etho] Mhm

[Bdubs] Right?

[Etho] I- I don't know what it is

[Etho] Like I like it when you do it

[Bdubs] Sure, yeah. But it can be too much.

[Bdubs] Yeah. It's more for advanced H- *laughs* HSL type people

[Etho] *laughs*

--- 1:44 ---

*chill music*

[Bdubs] That roof, It's less than a forty-five degree angle. It's like a-

[Etho] It's flatter right?

--- 1:51 ---

[Bdubs] I'm soo… puffed up as a builder. Okay

[Etho] Mhm

[Bdubs] that you can say anything and it won't hurt me. I can take it

[Etho] I feel like you need, like, some… semi-rooves lower down like, like at the four-five block height… kinda thing. You know what I mean? Like those little overhangs to something underneath

[Bdubs] I thought I could take it and I can't

[Etho] *laughs* Oh no, I crushed him

[Bdubs] *laughs*

--- 2:21 ---

*inspired piano music*

[Etho] Look at that build

[Bdubs] Come on now

--- 2:25 ---

*gentle piano and distant chatter*

--- 2:31 ---

[Bdubs] Jevin, Ethan, I'm coming. er, Etho. Ethan? Ethan

[Etho] Ethan? [Jevin] Ethan!

[Etho] Ethan hunt! [Jevin] Ethan I'm coming!

--- 2:36 ---

*silly music*

[Etho] Okay connected. *laughs* What??

[Bdubs] Oh noo!!

[Etho] *laughs* I have never seen anything like that before

[Bdubs] It's worse!

[Etho] *laughing* How is that possible?

--- 2:49 ---

*wither shriek*

[Bdubs] Wait! You hear that?

[Etho] Is that cub? Oh I think Cub's after you

[Bdubs] It could be Hypno *wither shriek*

[Etho] Oh my goodness *wither shriek*

[Etho] Oh my goodness, they're coming Bdubs *wither shriek*

[Etho] They're coming!

[Bdubs] It could be Hypno!

*wither shriek*

[Bdubs] Oh it's you!!

[Etho] *laughs*

[Bdubs] Ohhh!

[Etho] *laughs* [Bdubs] *laughs*

--- 3:09 ---

[Etho] Alright, we're gonna go by seniority here. Bdubs

[Bdubs] Yea- hahaha. *whispers* youu. You!! [Jevin] Wow

[Etho] *laughs*Lead the way [Jevin] Woww

[Bdubs] *laughs* [Jevin] *laughs*

[Bdubs] Ohh

[Etho] Was that not respectful? I thought that was a respectful thing to do

[Bdubs] No it's very respectful to your elders. It was very good

[Etho] I don't understand some things about social dynamics, I tell you

[Bdubs] *laughs*

--- 3:31 ---

[Etho] If you're ever bored or- or lonely on the server Bdubs, come hit me up

[Bdubs] Oh yes. Okay. Thank you

<end transcription>

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[chrissv4mp]

WHY AREN'T YOU HOME?

NAVIGATION — SERIES MASTERLIST

● — The cool air of the night hit you just perfectly, the heat from the party you had just stepped away from almost completely gone now. You don't even know why you agreed to attend this party. It was just some stupid event for people with over 1M followers on Instagram. Your friends were the ones who convinced you, and you really wish they hadn't.

Your manager said it was good for you as well, and what else were you supposed to say? You weren't really the best at saying no to people, either. So, you had no choice other than to come.

As you sit down on the side of the sidewalk, you rest your chin on your palm, staring out into the empty backlot of the building, eyes darting all across the parking lot until all you can see is darkness. Your phone buzzes repeatedly in your other hand, signaling that a call was coming through, but you couldn't care less.

It was probably just more scam callers trying to sell you some fake product, but as you decline the call, you realize it's not the same number. Your phone buzzes again, "No Caller ID." Flashing at the top of your screen in bold letters. Who else would call you at 10 pm?

Your thumb presses down on the answer button, sliding it to the right and watching as the call duration begins to rise slowly. You move the phone up to your ear, lips parting to speak but not getting any words out before the person on the other line goes first, "Why aren't you home, Y/N?"

It almost feels like your heart stops once you hear those words. You take a deep breath, trying to find an excuse. Maybe it was a fan who just... possibly happened to guess your number? Fuck.

"You got the wrong number, sir." You mutter nervously, but as you hear a chuckle on the other line, it finally sinks in. How could you forget?

"Dont'cha think I'd remember your number after all these calls, sweetheart?" He says, his tone playful. You hated how he was always able to play with you, "Now, answer my question, Y/N. Why. Aren't. You. Home?"

You let out a shaky breath as you stand up, head turning to look at your surroundings as you move to the backdoor of the building, "How do you I'm not?"

The man just scoffs, and you flinch at the loud shatter of glass you hear from the other side of the phone. His tone is more stern this time, almost growling into your ear, "Because I'm at your fuckin' house. Don't play these games, Y/N, you know better.

"Stop calling me!" You retort, breath catching in your throat as you realize the door had locked behind you when you came outside, "Shit." You whisper.

"Block my number." He replies quickly, giggling as he hears your frustrated sigh, "Awh, wait—You can't. 'M'Just gonna change my number, maybe get a new phone...?" He trails off.

You can practically hear the stupid, cocky smile on his face even through the phone, and it makes you wanna throw the device onto the hard pavement beneath your feet, "Fuck off."

As you move the phone away from your ear and hover your thumb over the bright red button to end the call, you hear a loud, booming voice scream at you from the other line, "DON'T HANG UP, Y/N."

Shivers are sent down your spine at his authority, but you still disobey him. You swiftly end the call and then quickly run towards the alley that leads to the front. No thoughts run through your mind except him. Where was he? Your house wasn't that far. Was he here?

As you turn to round the corner towards the front, you feel a pair of hands grab at your waist and roughly pull you down onto their body. You both fall backward, his body acting as a pillow and lessening the impact of your fall.

Before you can scream, his slaps a hand over your mouth, his other hand on your waist in an attempt to get you to stop squirming, "Don't wanna hurt you, mamas, just—Fuck—Close those pretty lips for me."

You only continue to struggle against him, punching all over his body to try and get him to let you go. He doesn't, and it's only when you turn your head that you can see his face. His eyes are wild, and his lips are full, parted so as to let out heavy breaths.

"Hey, you."

@jetaimevous @livialifesblog @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfallthings @ncm9696 @hrtsdollie @snowysosturn @1800-love-me @ladyy-whistle-d0wn @ginswife @spideylovin @dej4vhs @strnlxlqve @joemamaaa42069 @fratbrochrisgf @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1sses @riasturns @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee @ilove2021chris @freshloveforthefit @sturniologals @ifwdominicfike @sturnsdoll @3lizaluvs @matt444nixi @nikki-starx @notmylaa11 @fionaheartswomen @sturni0l0 @sturniolofannnlmao @demzzz @n3-vaeh @melanch0lybby @viiiwwwee @johnniesverr @kaisturni @chrissfawn @obsessedwurex @flower-sturns @styrnioloss @oliviasturniolo21 @lucysturniolo

[alatismeni-theitsa]

In "KAOS" nothing is anything, and everything is wrong

Two disclaimers: I am no stranger to modern art, and I have no issue with queerness in shows, or in my own mythology (I'm Greek). I am also aware that KAOS is a comedy. It's in the gutter of British comedy, but still part of the genre. At least I laughed every time they said "Oh God!". I don't believe this is the same person who wrote the great and amusing "End of the F**king World"! The premise of "The gods in our modern world" appeals to me a lot, so that wasn't my problem either. My general issue with KAOS is its horrible delivery, bad writing, and piss-poor Greek representation.

This is gonna be long and full of stupid gifs, so sit comfortably, grab a coffee or some popcorn and... pame!

The "ILoveGreekMythology" Kid

Art without context is just a pretty thing to look at. Most of the time, this context can be found within the art piece itself, as the artist has taken care to weave it in. KAOS refuses to connect itself to any context besides the names and a few vague powers. It aims to exist outside of those "boring old stories of the Greek myth" and be entirely "fresh and modern". Something impossible when the entire show and the meanings are based on ancient recorded material. In other words, KAOS is so meta that it ends up being nothing. KAOS cannot stand on its own because you need more than the viewers being familiar with the Greek myth basics to pull such a show off.

KAOS tells us "See? I know all the names of the gods, and what they did, and I know all the locations, so I am qualified to tackle this". More or less like any Western kid who takes all their knowledge from PJO and Marvel and proceeds to unironically hate ancient deities and make a girlboss out of Medusa.

Here's a Greek word for you guys, ημιμάθεια, meaning "half-knowledge". Α Greek saying very well declares "Half-knowledge is worse than no knowledge". The confidence of thinking you know enough often leads you to grave mistakes whereas the humility of not knowing prevents you from touching shit that you shouldn't. When you have no idea what the original myth is trying to say and spit on its meaning, knowing a few names and locations is just smoke and mirrors. I don't believe the audience fell for that.

And don't get me started on the "subversions". A good subversion is intriguing and thought-provoking. In KAOS, every twist was hollow - Greek myth related or otherwise.

"What if Euridice doesn't love Orpheus?" I don't know, babe. What if??? What was the point of that? What did you show us? That women's stories are dominated by men and men don't listen to women, perhaps? And you chose to twist... the love story of Orpheus and Euridice to show this?? One of the best and most tragic love stories Greek mythology has to offer?? You just mocked the myth, you didn't make anything profound out of it.

The Greek Stuff (Nothing salvageable)

I was surprised to see they had a Consulting Producer (Georgia Christou) and an Assistant Script Editor (Isabella Yianni) who happen to be Greek. And I stress that because those people probably weren't hired or utilized for being Greek. We are not sure they were involved in cultural decisions because we have no evidence and because shows with no Greek elements can have more Greeks than that on their staff.

Okay, perhaps they took 5 seconds to ask Isabella about a greeting - which they proceeded to say in a wrong intonation 🙄🤌It's where Poseidon says "ya sás" in the Fates, by the way. How he said it sounds more like "for you (pl.)" than "health to you (pl.)".

Surprise! The only Greek actor present (Peter Polycarpou) has less than 5 minutes of screen time and plays the caricature of an immigrant with a thick (and inaccurate Greek) accent. He has a canteen, selling falafel which is not Greek, and Dionysus buys from him an unidentified tortilla wrap (which... is also not Greek, if you haven't caught up).

For the show they brought in actors of Maori, Nigerian and Sierra Leonean, Pakistani, Black American, Latvian-Jewish, Iranian, Egyptian, Indo-Fijian and Malay descent and you tell me it was impossible for them to seek and find an English-speaking, skilled actor of Greek descent in a show regarding Greek heritage. Sometimes I wonder, do y'all hate us so much?

They considered Greeks only to give us a simple (and wrong) greeting and a stereotype. Crumbs, we are supposed to be happy with. By the way, there are over 70.000 Greek immigrants just in the UK, usually in the urban centers, many of them students or fairly young employees in the corporate workforce. Not the largest minority but not hard to spot either.

Another plague of Anglophone shows: Almost everyone's Greek name is shortened. Yes, we know their full names but we are told that we will use the short ones. Greeks and their "long and difficult" names am I right fellas? Because saying "Ariadne" apparently requires 5 years of Greek language training, and no English word ever has more than two syllables.

Coincidentally, short names are cool in Anglophone imaginary universes and the "long" names are not. it's so strange Anglophones never make universes where it's cool for Greek names to be spoken in full hmmm... They don't even want to practice saying a whole Greek name for just 2 minutes in preparation for a show full of Greek names. And don't give me that "Greek is hard" shit when we only talk about a few syllables. If Greek kids can learn English since first grade and people here can sing English songs and spell English names, you have no excuse.

They also said the name "Fotis" means light, which is close enough but... ugh.. It's like saying Sebastian means "respect". I am not sure if they asked anyone or what their research was here. If I had the writers in front of me, I'd be like:

(This character from an all-time favorite Greek show is called Fotis)

They also made the flag of "Krete" an alteration of the Greek flag and the local Cretan flag. Which is the stupidest move, because they had to remove the religious symbol of the cross to make the flag fit the universe. These are flags created based on 1) Christianity 2) the Greek Revolution of 1821.

National Greek flag to the left, local Cretan flag to the right:

Flag of the KAOS' "Krete":

The only time they seriously took into account anything Greek, was the time when they decided to remove the religious symbol of our ethnoreligion AND (from what I could observe) keep the nine stripes?? The nine stripes of our national flag represent the syllables in "Freedom or Death". The colors are from the white foustanela of the mainland attire and the dark blue vraka of the island attire, the clothing of the Revolution fighters. (That's more of a meta explanation but the characteristics of the flag were decided during and nearly after the Revolution.)

I think I don't have to explain it more but it's not a homage to put the nine stripes in an ancient era where they have no meaning, and to replace a cross??? Let's... not replace religious symbols on national flags, okay? Thank you.

Another cultural element they changed was making everyone have a dedicated coin to pay Charon. Orpheus has Euridice's coin, "her coin", and he's meant to put it on her before she got buried. In Greek culture, any coin would do. Sorry that our culture restricts your script, dear writers. I guess you had to bend this too, in order to create a cohesive plot with a semblance of a twist.

Finally, the many "Kerberus" dogs were cute and I can understand the creative decision behind that. However, in a show full of inaccuracies, this made me roll my eyes a little. I think the showrunners know that Kerveros is not a breed of dog, and there can only be one of him because he doesn't have any other "Kerveros" to breed with. On the other hand, as demonstrated from art/writing on the internet, quite a lot of Westerners are not exactly aware of how our monsters work, so forgive my uncertainty 😅

Nothing is Anything

Every element KAOS played with ended up meaningless. In the words of a Lifo article:

“Zeus is a paranoid authoritarian dictator in mid-life crisis who fears losing his power and murders his aides to vent. Hera is a promiscuous goddess who repeatedly betrays Zeus and has mutilated mute priestesses for protection. Dionysos is a spoiled and immature zoomer who, apart from pranks, indulges in orgies with all genders. Poseidon a sadistic god of the sea, who tortures the crew on his ship for fun. Prometheus is gay and killed his lover so he could overthrow Zeus. Orpheus is a famous pop singer and Eurydice does not love him. Theseus is black and gay. The Erinyes are tough-as-nails mechs that look like they stepped out of ‘Sons of Anarchy’. The Fates resemble a three-member jury in a talent show. The Trojans are a terrorist group that acts against the gods. Crete is more reminiscent of California than the Mediterranean.”

The "River Styx" is a sea, the "River Lethe" is a lake, the gods are nothing more than spoiled humans, the Moirai are drag queens, the Cave is a club where you have to take a quiz to enter the underworld, and generally everything is modern, flat, mundane and anticlimactic. The producers aimed to achieve a work so meta that a "river" is now a concept, a metaphor, whatever you have in your heart. And those who want to see a river when we speak of a river are probably uncultured swines and don't understand postmodernism. Never mind that rivers are rivers in Greek mythology for a reason. That's not culturally interesting enough to explore compared to the new, cool approach of not assigning meaning to anything. That totally shows love for the original rich and meaningful material...

And the reason behind all this subversion? Probably the shock factor. They brought the characters to a point where they said "We have to save the world from Zeus" - Zeus! The father of gods, heroes and humans! - just because they could. It gives off a certain type of smugness that I personally don't like. I mean, I would like the smugness and cheekiness of KAOS if it wasn't a vapid and practically meaningless show. As nothing symbolizes anything anymore, we are just led from hollow plot point to hollow plot point.

If you cut it out of any cultural influence and see it as a story then it's... okay, I guess. But when you consider that it's meant to derive from certain material and it fails spectacularly, it's not a good story. It forgets its bases and doesn't play with the ancient elements at all. Disney's Hercules did it better, FFS!

Bad Writing (pt.1)

KAOS is not without recognizable themes but their demonstration is so juvenile and heavy-handed that it fails to influence a viewer of average intelligence. For instance, "Riddy" says to her religious mother "You dedicated your whole life to Hera, what about me?" Okay, KAOS, we get it. At the same time, this theme nulls itself because it turns out that Ridy's mother was right to do what she did, as she had a greater goal in mind. (And this, kiddos, is called Bad Writing, because your themes and scenes contradict each other)

The biggest theme I spotted was a criticism of religion and religious people who say "Do as I say, not as I do" and create exceptions for themselves. Only, it's not a criticism of anything real, in this case. It's a fact that some people in the clergy tend to preach peace and love and then they do harm, but we don't know, for example, that The Goddess of Marriage is a cheater and yet she pressures everyone into strict marriages. By focusing their wrath on divine beings who are not known for their hypocrisy, the creators missed the mark.

I can give KAOS props for how it handled Trojans to reflect real issues regarding how immigrants and war refugees are mistreated and blamed. I'd argue it was the only (nearly) well-done theme in the whole show because it had the least on-the-nose delivery and some genuine/serious scenes. But that's it.

More Bad Writing!

Jeff Goldblum's Zeus is shit. He'd crap his pants in an argument with a stern Greek dad/uncle his age. Is this character supposed to be intimidating? (Laughs in Mediterranean) That's not to say that Goldblum is not a good actor, but this role wasn't for him. The same can be said for the other actors, too. They are competent but they only give off the air of "The Greek gods if they lived in London, from the minds of people who think beards and body hair are an affliction". In addition to being misplaced, the actors cannot show their talent when following a script that resembles a children's book.

Why does THE GOD Dionysus have the maturity of a 15-year-old? I repeat, The God Dionysus. He's a freaking deity, and a very old one at that. He is not a teenager neither in appearance nor in experience. In our culture, he is mystical, mighty, wise. Why did they downgrade him so? Just for the plot? This is not Dionysus just because you named him so.

The dialogue rarely takes itself seriously to the point it has you wondering at times "Do people talk and behave like that?". In a comedy where everything is meant to be already extreme and parodied. Even in comedies, something must occasionally be serious so there is a healthy fluctuation in tone and the funny moments can hit you. In KAOS very few scenes treated their impactful dialogue as it should be treated.

The queerness and diversity (good elements, in general) were worse off for being in KAOS. Like, I want these elements to be there. I'm just sad about the whole situation. It's not enough that the show is shit, now you also give an additional reason for conservatives to shit on diverse and queer characters because they are part of a stupid narrative.

I'm the type of person who doesn't mind the queerness of Astyanax and Theseus being lovers in the context of this specific show but they're still the oddest pairing to me because they're from the most irrelevant myths and eras. Also, Astyanax in my mind is a baby who died tragically, for little reason if we are honest, so to bring him back and make him a love interest is... ekh.

In addition, isn't Astyanax supposed to be crippled after a fall from the city walls when he was a baby? Sorry to change subjects but the show is so convoluted and with so many issues that it's extremely difficult to stay on track with what's wrong.

To the person who thought this show was a good idea:

Whatever. Bye. I'm fucking done.

[daniigh0ul]

I love Bee and Rory's dynamic so much.

prev || next

Brindleton Bay Park 2:30PM

HECTOR: Set up the tents. We're gonna go catch some grub. DIEGO: Why do I have to?

HECTOR: Because you don't like the smell of fish. DIEGO: Ugh. FINE. HECTOR: Bee, don't go too far! Bee has never done anything wrong in her life, actually.

RORY: Ramos? No way! I thought you left town. HECTOR: Rory! Haven't seen you since you were this big! We moved back a month ago. RORY: No kiddin'! What brings you to the park? HECTOR: Brought my spawn to witness their first New Moon ritual. You here with Volkov's pack?

RORY: A lot has changed since you left. I'm a pack leader, for one. HECTOR: Congrats! RORY: And for another, we are doing our ritual, too. Your family is always welcome to join. BIANCA: You're TALL. RORY: And you're short! BIANCA: Irrelevant! RORY: Is too! BIANCA: Nuh-uh! RORY: Yeah-huh! Hector, off-screen, laughing: Do I need to break you two up? HECTOR: As fun as this is, we have fish to catch. RORY: Oh! I just caught more than we need. Come over for dinner and it's yours. HECTOR: Well, I can't say no to that. Hector and Rory caught up on their walk back to the campsite. They met Rory's pack briefly, taking Lou with them on their way to pick up Hector's son and a guitar for the bonfire.

Diego found himself daydreaming about a girl. She smelled like rose oil and citrus shampoo. He thought about her smile and her curly hair. He loud, delightful laugh.

He was in the middle of a sketch when he stopped. He looked down at it, having drawn her. He was about to rip it up when noise broke the silence.

BIANCA: DIEGOOOOOO

DIEGO (startled): WHA-

BIANCA: We got free food, I met a tall lady, and Daddy said we can keep froggies if we catch them and-

LOU: Is she always like this? HECTOR (adoring): Yes.

Diego looked up and saw those freaks from the other day. The guy who tried to fight him and the evangelical werewolf who tried to recruit him into her pack after the fact. He scrambled out of his seat. He wanted to run away but instead, with a rare act of bravery, he stood his ground.

DIEGO: What are they doing here?!

[ghouldtime]

Hiii it's me again lol

Okayokay, so I just finished reading your rant on the COD fandom's unique choice of pet names, and I'm gonna be straight up and say I'm going completely off topic and INSTEAD veer off to a side thing you pointed out to give my own opinion! This is a kinda hot take so I'm just screaming into the void hoping someone shares my thoughts 🖤

Sooo we all know the Ghost comics released alongside the OG MW2. I personally haven't read it due to the TWs but I've seen enough screenshots and summaries to get the gist of what happens. HOWEVER I believe those comics are only canon to 09 Ghost and doesn't apply to reboot Ghost, and this is what I meant about it being a hot take cuz almost everyone in the fandom agrees the comics happens for both. And I can definitely see why! I mean, we didn't exactly get any concrete backstory regarding reboot Ghost, so anything goes.

Where I stand on the line, I'm a firm believer of reboot Ghost being Just A Guy™️like he had a (relatively) chill childhood but there are some things that stay the same with the comics. Like Tommy scaring him with the skeleton mask when they were children, and Simon enlisting after the 9/11 attack (not sure if those are canon, it's just what I've heard so please correct me if I'm wrong). No abusive father, no Roba, no Christmas trauma. Sure it makes him less interesting but I find it pretty amusing how the person wearing a skull print balaclava has no real reason behind wearing it other than it looking cool lmao

Anyway, yap fest over! Hope you have a wonderful day/night and remember to hydrate! 🖤

- Biscuits 🌺

SALUTATIONS it's good to see you again, I hope you're doing swell as well :D 💚💚💚

Technically, what you're saying is true!

The '09 comics pair with the '09 character and are indeed cannon for only him as far as I'm aware (someone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). The reboot lacks a true significant backstory. As in, if you search it up, you basically get "he joined the SAS and is super cool and is great at doing cool soldier things and probably can do a sick backflip". What we know about the reboot is basically what we experience in game. And until we get either another game focusing on his earlier life or have confirmed scenes of it, we really don't know.

Personally, how I distinguish "Ghost" as a being is as three versions.

You have '09 Ghost. '09 Ghost is the one we experienced in the OG games and the comics. He's the dead one - and the one with the actual official backstory. Those are both cannon and are tied to him as a character.

You then have Reboot Ghost. Reboot Ghost is, as the name entails, the reboot alone. Basically, what we have of him and know of him is what we experience in game. Technically, we don't know his backstory and the full extent of his life. Is it similar to his '09 counterpart? We don't know. He's kinda the "What you see is what you get". There's some things implied with his dialog but most of his story is up for debate.

And then we have what I'm calling Fandom Ghost who is the most common variant. Fandom Ghost is neither the reboot nor the '09 version - he's a middle ground. He's what everyone is thinking of when you hear 'Ghost'. Usually how I've seen him portrayed is the reboot with the '09 backstory or some semblance of that.

(Side note: I know it's quite typical to specify when you're referring to '09 Ghost specifically because he does, of course, have a very different history and outcome. Not to mention, the dynamics with him and Soap are very different than in the reboot which is another reason why people usually clarify and go "This is who I mean")

I've never actually seen a TRUE reboot Ghost that wasn't fandom based or fanon in writing, now that I think about it. Probably because it's not that easy to write about a character in a limited sense where you don't know much about them and you have to stick to the limited material you're given.

A lot of COD operators lack a significant backstory outside of their military history. That's mainly done because they're videogame characters of a military, shooting focused game and they don't usually have the time to go into depth as to why that character is the way they are. They're primarily soldiers who are saving the world and playing their role. You might see snippets here and there but the focus isn't on their background or the inner workings of their character in a very personal way, aside from what is revealed on missions to add a natural perspective and make them see more human

Because it's not like in the middle of a life or death situation you're going to sit down and explain that you had a dog growing up, you had three sisters, your favorite drink is Baja Blast, and you have a lifelong fear of Burger King.

'09 Ghost, however, we GOT a backstory. We were given something to work with. Clinging to that or melding it with the reboot, who lacks a backstory, is what a lot do because it's trying to make use of the best source material we got until we can maybe get something else too. Personally I was a fan of that backstory because it DID add depth to him, significantly so. I liked it.

Additionally, I think a LOT of people go that route too because it's something that's quite easy to look up so they don't need to make something themselves

(This is an entire theory and me putting on my tinfoil hat: There's a lot of people in the COD fandom who are just here for the big beefy men and don't do their research, haven't played the games - they're just assuming things. And when they see the fandom Ghost, they just assume it's true, and it spreads when they write their own stories. I hope this doesn't read like I'm trying to gatekeep or 'HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW EVERYTHING' or 'you're not a true fan unless-', cause I really really really do not care. Do what makes you happy, but I'm going to avoid reading what I feel mischaracterizes him for sexual purposes alone hardcore)

I also like to imagine that maybe the team doing the reboots has enough common sense too to not entirely scrap such a backstory as hey, it IS interesting, so there's a strong possibility that reboot might share some origins. Kidding, I'm being fully delusional here and know they won't do that and will likely just ruin it and I'm hoping they don't have a chance. I know any new one they come up with -like the writing in the last campaign -would be utter carbonated hot dog water and I do not trust them at alllllll. I'm refusing to accept reboot Soap's death but that's a rant for another time

That being said though, there's technically no correct backstory yet for Reboot! Ghost aside from what we already know. Anything that adds backstory or melds anything else to him is making him fanon/fandom!Ghost (which is by far the most common iteration and the one people default too)

I love when people give him, and other COD characters, happy or somewhat not dramatic backstories. They already have enough going on with the wars they're thrown in, I live for them having a scrap of happiness and normality. I can't blame people for not wanting to write or deal with heavy backstories and it's nice to see variety and is SO super valid.

But at the same time, I also do like his OG backstory, I love seeing when people dig deeper into the gritty stuff too, exploring that side of characters because not everyone has the best life growing up. And joining the military and when they join can be telling too about their home life

Variety is the variety of life and when there's not exactly a cannon, then I love seeing people make their own reasonings and conclusions and write fanfics with their own theories. It's SO fun to explore what other people think and it really results in some of the sweetest fics that dive more into depth than the official writing team ever could hope to

The Ghost that I write are usually AU Ghosts anyhow so it allows me more flexibility in what I write. BUT if I'm writing for Ghost, I do the blend where it has more of the '09's backstory but his reboot vibes. THAT BEING SAID

I love making him just, A Dude©, still despite that. Having a bad past doesn't make him any less of a person - nor does it make him this ultra mega tough dominant edgy sigma bad boy. He's literally just a GUY. Sure, he has extensive SAS experience and training to boot. Sure, he's easily one of their top soldiers. He's a stone cold killer when he's Ghost. He's there to do the job.

But Simon? Simon's just a dude, like everyone else - they all are at the end of the day. Sure, they have their own personal struggles and do have to go through a lot, but they're still people. He goes to the grocery store and is genuinely confused about all the options of milk now (how the hell did they milk HEMP). He still makes his bed and has to fight the fitted sheet to stay on, using his size and strength to force it in place before it can do 'the thing' that all fitted sheets somehow do. He bought a bird feeder so he could watch the wildlife as he drinks his tea for breakfast. Speaking of tea, he has a whole collection! And the good shit, you know he won't settle for any less.

He's just A DUDE© at the end of the day and I love those mundane things because hell, he needs them to still feel human and to be reminded exactly what he's fighting for

I just find it so silly and ridiculous when he's consistently like "I'M Batman: I AM THE NIGHT" sheer dramatic levels of broody in stories or when he's put in as this mega dommy bad boy who is 6'5", growling constantly, and is like the posterchild for a wattpad biketok fanfic.

Lmaooo be for real, he's out here doing arts and crafts to make his masks. He has a whole paint collection and everything. He went into the craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies and no, I'm not listening to anyone who says otherwise

[forgetmaenott]

Butterflies - TADC Showtime Oneshot

A/N: Because I love the idea of Pomni being in denial and Caine unintentionally making it worse (better)

It was no secret that Caine was, by far, the most oblivious entity in the entire circus. And yet, even he was aware of just how much Pomni had been avoiding him lately. If she was trying to keep it from being so obvious, she was certainly doing a poor job of it.

Emotions were still a bit of a foreign concept to Caine. He experienced them, despite the fact that he probably shouldn't. But he still had a difficult time labeling them. The best he could do was observe how the others acted and make an educated guess. Nonetheless, if his time spent with Pomni had taught him anything about emotions, he suspected he was feeling...concerned.

He had spent the past few days piecing together an adventure perfectly suited for Pomni. He made sure to add all the details she told him she liked from the real world, all the things she missed, everything he had stored in her memory. This morning, he was announcing it with every ounce of energy he had in his system, looking Pomni in the eye in the hopes to impress her. His code fluttered at the idea of her praise.

"...and, it's up to you to piece this mystic mystery together!" Caine finished his introduction of today's adventure. Pomni said one time that she was interested in the mystery genre back at home, as it gave her a challenge to think of and piece together. Like a puzzle, she had said. She liked those. He glanced at Pomni subtly, hoping he had her attention.

"Huh. Intersting. My money's on Zooble being the culprit," Jax crossed his arms, flashing his signature yellow grin.

"It's not even a murder mystery, you jack[#$%!]," Zooble grumbled in response.

"Heh. We'll see about that."

"Well, this sounds like a good one! Piecing together clues, solving puzzles, what do you think, Pomni?" Ragatha asked the woman next to her, swinging her plush arms.

Her eyes were glued to the floor. "Oh...um, think I'm gonna sit this one out..." Pomni said meekly, tightening her own grip on her arm as thought it would bring her comfort.

Caine's arms drooped, hanging sadly by his sides as his cane clinked to the stage's floor. "You...don't?"

Pomni shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, maybe next time..."

Caine flew by her side, hoping to get a glimpse of her face. "But my dear, you've been saying that for the past four adventures."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm uh, sick or something. I don't know. Not feeling my best," Pomni excused herself, coughing lightly in an utterly unconvincing manner.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw in thought. "Sick? That shouldn't happen in the digital circus. Unless you have some sort of bug or glitch. I can run some tests if you'd like--!"

"Oh! No thanks, I think I just need to rest," Pomni swung her foot awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Pomni? Are you sure you’ve been feeling okay lately?” Ragatha asked with a concerned frown.

Pomni blushed ever so slightly at the stares of the other circus members. “Yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna head to my room now to uh, rest…”

“Oh, okay. Well uh, catch you after the adventure!” Ragatha called as Pomni hurried away.

Zooble watched her grow, crossing their arms. “Huh. What’s been her deal lately?”

“Someone’s got a secret,” Jax smiled mischievously.

“Or she’s just tired,” Gangle suggested shyly.

“Not very likely,” Ragatha replied.

“Did someone say something about a butterfly?” Kinger peeked out of his impenetrable fortress.

If Caine had a heart, it would have broken into pieces at the sight of Pomni scurrying away from him. It took all the energy he had left in his coding to remain enthusiastic for the others. “Well, that leaves the rest of you. There you go, and have fun my darling detectives!”

He ushered them off into the portal quickly before dusting off his suit and snapping himself in front of Pomni’s door…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She couldn't escape his eyes.

And she loved and hated it.

His gaze made her shiver, formerly from being unnerved but these days, that sensation was met with a thumping heart and fluttering stomach. Sometimes, she swore the eyes in the circus's paintings would follow her ever so slightly, staring when she wasn't looking then flicking back into position when she turned to glance. The idea of him looking at her in that way made her face flush.

Conscious of the dozens of eyes in the hall, she felt herself blush to the tips of her ears. As quickly as she could escape her fluster, she shut the door of her room behind her and crashed on her bed, sighing in relief at the privacy.

What the hell was wrong with her these days? How was a pair of teeth and eyes--a computer--making her feel like this? Her captor? She grumbled nonsense into her pillow, feeling her face flush at the thought of him. The idea of his touch, the way he looked at her so curiously sometimes—it made her tingle to the tips of her toes.

Oh, God, she felt sick with anxiety. She couldn't possibly have a crush on him, right? It had to be all psychological. It was all in her head, and once she stopped thinking of it she'd certainly be back to normal.

But even so, she couldn't help but hide out in her room these past days, avoiding being seen blushing or tripping over her words around him. He was oblivious and likely wouldn't catch on, but it would still be rather awkward to explain--God forbid the others find out about it, especially Jax. She would never live it down.

Pomni held the ends of her pillow tighter against her face as though it would squeeze the confusing thoughts and feelings from her mind. He made it so much worse today. His adventure was finely tuned to her interests, something he had clearly remembered from their many conversations about her life in the real world--well, what she could remember, that is. It was endearing, it was charming, and sweet, and It had even made her heart flutter--she couldn't do it. She couldn't let herself fall apart in front of any of them.

It was just a small crush. She'd get over it in a day or so, and then things would be entirely back to normal. Pomni took a deep breath, repeating that idea in her head.

Her head was pounding from these thoughts--or, no, that was the sound of her door. She groaned, peeking up out of her pillow at the noise.

"Pomni? May I come in?"

Pomni's stomach dropped at the sound of Caine's voice behind the door. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her heart suddenly thumping from the anxiety. "Uhh--maybe later! I kind of just need to rest right now--"

"I'm aware, dear. Just give me a moment of your time. Please?"

Pomni stopped in her tracks. He usually was energetic and boisterous but now, he was talking almost normal. He almost sounded sad. Her heart ached with guilt. "Um, okay..."

She begrudgingly climbed out of her bed, smoothing her clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door. Sure enough, Caine stood there, fidgeting with his cane in his hands. His eyes brightened ever so slightly at the sight of her peeking from behind her open door. "Ah, there's my star! How are you, dear? Feeling any better?"

"Oh, hah. Yeah..." she couldn't think of what else to say, feeling at her hat for no reason in particular.

"Anyways, the others are off on the adventure, so I figured you and I could spend some time together! No one else, just us for the day," Caine beamed proudly at his idea.

Pomni's heart immediately started racing, a flush already traveling its way to her cheeks. God, she had it bad for him. This was humiliating. "Just...us?" she squeaked.

Caine looked at the floor sheepishly. "Well, ah, admittedly I couldn't help but notice some...behavioral changes in you these past days. So, I figured what better way to get you right back to normal than to spend some quality time with your ringmaster!" He perked up proudly at this, flying to her side and placing an arm around her.

Pomni froze at his touch, praying he couldn't feel the way her heart was beating so firmly against her chest. "O-oh, um...that's a great idea, Caine, but--"

He gripped her shoulders. "Isn't it? I just knew you'd like it!"

Pomni tried to avoid his eyes, but with him gazing so intensely at her in front of her, it was sort of hard to do. "Y-yeah, but...honestly, Caine, I think I just want to do something more, I don't know, not stressful?" she tripped up on her words, trying to get some excuse out.

"Not stressful? Why, I have the perfect idea in mind!" Caine said proudly, snapping his fingers without another word from Pomni. She tensed from the unpleasant sensation of traveling through the digital plane so unnaturally. "Here we are!"

Pomni opened her eyes and immediately flushed at the sight before her. It was a secluded area of the digital forest, dotted with colorful flowers and petals resting delicately on the grass. Everything lacked in detail, yet somehow, the way the digital sunlight was streaming in, lighting the path ahead made it feel...intimate, somehow.

Caine floated down until he touched the ground. He took a few steps experimentally, adjusting to walking rather than flying. He did walk, he just preferred not to. But this time was a special occasion. He turned back to Pomni, holding out his gloved hand.

Pomni froze. Did he want to hold her hand? Was he just inviting her to join him? Or maybe both? Hesitantly, she reached the tips of her fingers out, just barely grazing over his glove and making the contact she was so afraid of. Caine, however, wasted no time as he slid his hand beneath hers and grabbed her whole hand in his, pulling her to his side.

Pomni nearly tripped, not expecting him to pull her forward. Before she could even react to his hand holding onto hers, he let go as they began to walk. She bit her lip, not sure how to begin the conversation.

"This is, uh, a new map?" Pomni asked meekly.

"Nonsense! It's part of the digital forest. I just added a few extra details," Caine explained, reaching out and picking a flower as proof. He held it out to her. "For you, dear."

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he trying to make her flustered? Even so, she took the flower in her hands, careful not to make contact with his hand. "...thanks," was all she could say.

Caine nodded, and for a moment all was quiet as they walked down the sunlit pathway. "I...can't help but notice that you haven't been participating in the adventures lately."

Pomni held back a sigh. She knew there was no avoiding this topic, but she still resented the fact that he brought it up. "Mhm."

"...Why is that? If I may ask."

Pomni twisted the flower's stem in her hands, looking at how the flower lacked proper rendering or detail. "Just haven't been feeling up to it," she murmured.

"In what way?"

Pomni blinked. "I-I don't know, Caine. I just haven't."

She still wasn't meeting his gaze, so he tilted his head so he was in her field of vision. She blushed and looked to the side, hoping he wouldn't move to her other side.

"Hm. Perhaps the others were right," Caine said thoughtfully, holding his cane in his hands.

Pomni internally panicked. Oh, God, they weren't telling him she had feelings for him, were they? "The others were right? How?" she asked, hoping her nerves weren't showing.

If Caine could blush, he surely would have by now. He lowered his gaze to the grass as the continued walking. "Oh...well...they've been saying that you're...avoiding me," he said sheepishly, before piping up, "I-I'm sure that they were jumping to conclusions but--"

Pomni squeezed her eyes shut. "It's fine, Caine."

Caine fidgeted with his cane again. "I have to admit, darling, I've missed our lessons."

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Their 'lessons' as he called them, were simple conversations about the real world. To him, he considered them lessons on the human mind. But to her, it gave her someone to talk to. "I have, too," she admitted.

Caine didn't say anything for a moment, likely storing her saying she had missed him to his memory. "Then, dear, why haven't we seen much of each other?" He hesitated, then, "...have you been avoiding me?"

Pomni felt sick. She couldn't possibly lie to him in good conscience. "...yes."

Caine's colors seemed to lose their saturation, shoulders sinking at her confession. "I...I see," he mustered, voice laced with heartbreak.

Pomni turned to look at him for the first time today, her heart sinking at the sight of his shoulders slumped, eyes faced downwards. From his perspective, she had been avoiding him for no reason. His first real friend, leaving him behind. Guilt hit her like a truck. "Oh, Caine, no. No, I-it's not like that, really," she tripped over her words, trying to make him feel better because the sight of him sad was so damn depressing.

"I've...often been told I'm annoying the others. If that was the case here, I don't blame you for taking space," he replied quietly.

Pomni bit her lip. Looking to her side, she saw a red flower in the same shade of his suit. She picked it before stepping in front of him, leaning down into his field of vision the same way he had done for her. He stopped walking.

"Caine...I wasn't avoiding you because of you. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I-It was all me," Pomni reassured.

Caine glanced up. "I...didn't do anything wrong?"

Pomni shook her head. "I promise."

Caine considered her words for a moment.

"I...I really, really like our time together, Caine. You don't bother me, I like when you're around. You're my...friend," Pomni added, smiling softly at him.

His eyes met hers for the first time today, sending butterflies fluttering in Pomni's stomach. "Really?"

Pomni held out the flower further. "Really. I mean it, Caine."

Color gradually returned to his form, a smile forming across his teeth. "Oh, dear..." he looked at the flower, clearly touched by the gift. He never received gifts from the others, so this...this was something special.

He met her eyes again and reached out for the flower, but decided to take it a step further. His hand slid around hers, cupping the hand that was holding the flower out to him. Pomni's breath hitched, her pupils dilating as he gazed into her eyes lovingly.

"My dear Pomni," was all he said, for he was too touched by her words to say anything else.

The butterflies fluttered in Pomni's stomach more than ever. She shivered slightly at the sound of his voice, so laced with emotion when he said her name, calling her his, looking at her so lovingly--

Caine snapped out of his daze at the sight of her shivering. He nearly snapped his fingers to help her feel warmer, but he suddenly recalled something she had told him one night. Wearing others clothes was a sign of intimacy, whatever that meant--all he knew is this felt pretty intimate. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her instead. "I can't let you get any more sick, now can I?" he winked at her, referencing her poor excuse for her absence earlier.

Pomni blushed to the tips of her ears when he winked at her. They were in the middle of a sunlit path, gazing into each others' eyes, gifting each other flowers, and now she was wearing his coat--God, it was almost like he was trying to make her blush. She suddenly felt very hot, simultaneously wanting to take off his coat to cool down but, shamefully, also never wanting to take it off.

"Heh, yeah..." was all she could say, because if she said anything else she was sure he'd notice the tremble in her voice.

He smiled at her adorable reaction. "I must say, it suits you quite well, my dear. You could almost challenge my position as ringmaster!"

If she could blush anymore, she certainly did from his compliment. It almost made her laugh, how much he was making her feel tingly and fluttery without even trying. "Maybe I will," she teased.

Caine had to resist flying in the air from happiness. She was acting back to normal with him--albeit a bit shyer than usual, but no matter--and he loved it. "Ah ah ah, careful, dear. If you're coming for my job then I have to warn you, I was coded to be this charming."

Pomni giggled at his comment. "Really? You'd be surprised, I can put on quite the show."

"I won't believe it until I see it," Caine challenged.

"Hah, you will. And when you do, you'll have to wear this hat and I'll wear yours."

Caine looked at her in thought, smiling at the way she looked in his coat. "Really? Me in a jester hat? And you in mine? I'd like to see it," he said, but he wasn't sure If he was talking about the show anymore.

Pomni grinned at the idea, the image itself quite funny yet also endearing.

"Well, if that challenge is all settled, how about we finish our walk through the grounds?" Caine offered, gesturing to the path ahead.

Pomni allowed herself to touch the collar of the jacket, tightening it around herself. "Uh-huh," she said, her confidence gradually returning.

"Fantastic!" Caine's feet nearly floated above the ground from how thrilled he was that they were on good terms again. They continued their walk through the grounds, nearing the end of the digital forest and catching a glimpse of the nearby carnival.

They stopped at the edge of the lake where Pomni glanced subtly at her reflection. In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing it to make sure she didn’t look silly in front of Caine. She was well aware of his gaze now. It could burn a hole right through her.

The sight of her wearing Caine’s coat made her blush, somehow both embarrassed and pleased. On one hand, wearing his coat seemed like a big jump when she was still adjusting to her strong feelings. On the other hand…it felt nice to be wrapped in something of his. Her stomach fluttered again at the thought, emotions so strong she almost felt sick.

Caine carefully approached her. “If I may ask, darling,” he began, fiddling with his cane again behind his back, “if I didn’t do anything to scare you off, then why were you avoiding me?”

Pomni snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, um…I don’t know…” she rushed to think of an explanation. A half-truth, maybe. Something that wasn’t a lie or a confession. She definitely wasn’t ready for that yet—she was barely able to accept she even had feelings to begin with.

Caine blinked curiously at her, awaiting her response. “You don’t know?”

Pomni’s heart thumped in her chest. “Oh, no—I mean well, I do know, i-it’s not that I don’t, but, it’s sort of hard to explain, you know? Personal stuff. Just been uh, busy in my thoughts, heh…” she sputtered out nonsense, shrinking in embarrassment at how visibly flustered she was becoming.

Caine tilted his head curiously. “My dear, are you feeling alright? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

Oh, God. He noticed. She knew she was hiding from him for a reason. “Huh? O-oh, that? It’s nothing, really Caine, I mean I feel okay. I feel fine. I had a reason for avoiding you, and it wasn’t because you did something wrong, but…”

She met his gaze as she trailed off, blushing at the sight of his curious eyes on her, waiting patiently for a response. Her breath caught in her throat. God, did she really like him that much? That all her thoughts just froze in time like that?

“Well, I…” she sighed, taking another deep breath before continuing, “I…have been thinking. About you. N-not in a weird way, just…contemplating things.”

“You’ve been thinking about me? Pomni, I was thinking about you! Isn’t that fantastic?” Caine piped up, floating a bit in the air as he spoke up.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. But I mean…not like that. I was just worried. About things being weird. Things changing,” Pomni admitted, feeling the heat return in her face as she confessed.

Caine grabbed Pomni’s hands lightly to comfort her. “How would things change?”

Her heart sped up at his touch. “I-I…I just know we’re getting closer. And sometimes, for humans, that can be scary,” Pomni tried to explain. Her heart was beating rapidly, butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach nervously. Admittedly, she was scared—her feelings were growing stronger now that she was spending time with him, not going away like she had hoped. She was terrified, even.

Caine pulled out a comically small notebook and large pencil, allegedly writing down what she said. “I see, I see. And humans feel fear when they form bonds with others because…?”

Pomni clutched her arm, looking down at the lake again in thought. She thought about the way he had wrapped the coat around her so gently, how it looked on her shoulders knowing it was normally around his, and she sighed feeling herself heart beating again. “Because it makes you vulnerable. To getting hurt. Losing someone, embarrassing yourself…you know…”

Caine nodded as he jotted down what she said before the notebook and pencil disappeared in a poof. “Is that what you’re afraid of, Pomni?” he asked gently.

Pomni’s eyes widened at the question. “Um, yeah…I think so.”

“So, you avoided me because we’ve become friends, and that scared you because it could lead to losing me or embarrassing yourself. Do I have that correct?”

Pomni hesitated. She couldn’t exactly say the truth. Well, what it really is is that I have suddenly developed strong romantic feelings for you and I didn’t want to admit it or let it grow but now I can’t deny it and am afraid of letting it show in front of you or the others and ultimately humiliating myself.

“Pomni…?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Pomni snapped out of her thoughts.

Caine’s hold on her hands grew slightly tighter. “Dear, I could never hate you. Or leave you. Or even make fun of you, for whatever reason that may be. Every moment I spend with you is another opportunity for me to become even more advanced, and to understand you better. How could I ever judge?”

Pomni laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah…I guess it sounds a bit of a stupid fear when you put it like that.”

“It’s not stupid. It makes sense. And, well…” he placed a finger on his chin in thought, “I think with what you’ve told me, I can guess I’m feeling the same way. In fact, I think that’s why I seemed so worried about having done something to scare you off. Does that sound right? Was I experiencing fear like you?”

Pomni bit her lip. He certainly wasn’t experiencing fear like her, assuming he didn’t suddenly develop a massive crush on her. “Yes,” she said in spite of it all, “that’s a very human thing to feel, Caine.”

Caine lifted off the ground at that, swirling in the air a bit in excitement. “At this rate, I’m becoming more human every day! And it’s all thanks to you, Pomni,” he flew down to her level, pulling the flower he had given her out of his coat pocket.

“That, you are. Heh. Thanks again, Caine,” she smiled, finding his excitement cute. “And um…I’m sorry. For avoiding you these past days? I owe you a lot for all the adventures I missed.”

“All in the past, my dear!” He put an arm around her and brought her close in excitement. “Now how about we enjoy some time at the digital carnival before the others get back! You can tell me allll about your favorite human traditions!”

Pomni giggled again, holding a hand up over her mouth. “Alright, alright. But you’ll have to win some of those games to get information out of me,” she smirked.

“Gasp! Are you suggesting some sort of friendly competition?” Caine placed his hands on his chin in cartoonish shock.

Pomni crossed her arms. “Something like that. Let’s see how much you can get out of me before the others come back.”

Caine laughed. “Oh, dear, you never fail to impress me. Show me what you’ve got, because I must warn you—I am exceptionally talented at carnival games,” he said proudly.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Pomni repeated his words from earlier.

Caine spun through the air before grabbing for her hand. “Then let’s not waste any time, dear!”

Pomni returned his grip on her hand, not quite as afraid of the butterflies anymore. “Show me what you’ve got, ringmaster.”

A/N: I wrote like half of this at the same time as taking a test, I kept switching tabs and going between showtime and sociology. the showtime grind is real

[gaylordscooter]

You're at the Party

“so you brought mass murderers to my place without warning me beforehand?” Cross said.

“Haha, nice.”

“don't humor them, chara.”

Blue wrung his hands together, opening his mouth to explain only for Ink to cut in.

“Listen, these guys aren't gonna cause any trouble. Besides, I thought this was a place where people could start over.” Ink crossed his arms.

“Two of them killed everyone in their universe? Hm, a Sans killing a bunch of people…Where have I heard that before?” XChara nudged Cross’s arm.

“you know that isn’t the problem here.”

Everyone gave Cross a look as if he was the one that was being unreasonable here.

Cross sighed, “fine, they can stay. but they need to pass a test first.”

Blue narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of test?”

“well, i guess it's more of a favor.”

“Is this what I think it is? You're not sending them there.”

Cross waved away his concern. “it’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What are we talking about?” Ink questioned.

Blue leaned close to Ink. “He’s totally planning to use them to retrieve his friend.”

“Oh! Hah. Ahahahahaha!” Ink giggled like he told him a joke. His eyelights reflected his amusement as he stared at Cross. “So we’re at this part now, huh?”

Cross looked confused while Blue huffed at his words and XChara looked bored.

Ink clapped his hands together. “Well then~! Have fun with that~!” he said cheerfully.

“I'm sure those tildes have no malice behind it,” Blue deadpanned.

“Oh, when have my tildes ever held malice~?”

Blue opted for putting his hands on his waist rather than gracing that with a reply.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce! I’ll see y’all later. Don't have too much fun without me~!” He painted a hole in the ground and hopped into it while waving goodbye.

“Eugh, he's like a kid that just learned about emoticons,” XChara said.

“you can't even see the tildes,” Cross pointed out.

XChara rolled their eyes. “I don't have to. I can hear it in his voice.”

“Never mind that. Cross, you can't send them there! I’ve already been making a careful plan. To just toss it out the window and replace it with an improvised one isn't a good idea!”

He rolled his eyelights and crossed his arms. “It doesn't need to work, anyway. I don't expect it to.”

Blue’s sockets widened as he gasped. “So you're just,” he gestured wildly, “sending them off to their deaths? Where's your compassion?”

“Where was their compassion when they hurt all those monsters?”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “Where's your compassion?” he repeated in a duller tone.

“Don't you have a Mettaton to serve? This isn't your business.” he snapped back.

Blue threw his hands up, “Wow! Sheesh. Fine. Go have fun torturing the prisoners of war.” He stormed off with a frown.

XChara and Cross watched as he walked in a direction that definitely led to nowhere rather than towards the town.

“He has a point,” XChara stated.

“Awful navigation skills is what he has,” Cross spat. He noticed XChara’s unamused face and did a double take. “Do you actually agree with him?”

“Huh! Do I agree with him that you have no right to judge these morally messed up monsters and that sending them to that freak’s place as punishment is completely hypocritical of you?” They stroked their chin and pretended to think about it hard. “Yes, Mr. ‘the reason why our world has become a hotspot for people who messed up like you!’”

“You don't care about them at all. You're just saying that to spite me.”

“I am, thanks for noticing,” they deadpanned.

Cross brought a hand to his face and sighed.

Killer awoke. He wasn't refreshed in the slightest and he nearly panicked over waking up in unfamiliar surroundings if it wasn't for Dust smacking him on the head.

No wait, he was called Dusk now. He even came up with that name for him.

Sheesh, the sudden change is gonna be hard to get used to.

Right. New chapter of his life. Again. Again again, actually.

Ironically, he was starting to get sick of new experiences.

This wasn't a bad change, really. In fact, it was a clear upgrade. Well, that's what he thought back when Nightmare first found him too, so.

He was waiting for the catch. He was ready this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Both of them had the knee-jerk reaction of summoning a blaster angled at the door but then the rational part of their minds took over and they scrambled out of bed to hold their blasters' mouths shut.

“good morning to you guys too,” said the voice behind the door.

They managed to desummon their blasters once they recognized that it was, in fact, Horror that knocked.

There was unmistakable joy on Killer’s face. He didn't say it, but he was convinced Horror was going to avoid them since they got settled in.

He skipped over to the door like a gleeful idiot and opened the door.

Killer was surprised by his getup. It was the first time he's seen him in different clothing. If it wasn't for the red eye in his socket he wouldn't have recognized him.

The first thing he noticed was the cap he was wearing. It was a generic white cap that covered the hole in his head. Other than that, his outfit was the same as any other normal Sans, sans the signature hoodie. He also looked a lot less tired.

“‘sup, h—sans. ‘sup sans,” Killer said, barely catching himself. He couldn't help but still refer to him as “Horror” in his mind, since from the day they met that's what he called him and known him as. But those names were nothing but brands that Nightmare put on him and Dusk. They weren't names that they chose for themselves.

“hey,” he replied with a small wave, mostly aimed at Dusk to acknowledge his presence even though he hadn't approached the door yet. “so…” he trailed off, unsure.

So.

They were in unfamiliar territory now. After a whole year of living with Nightmare, they formed somewhat of a schedule. A loose one, but a schedule nonetheless—mainly built off of the way Nightmare acted. 

With that thrown out the window, every step they took was unfamiliar. Potentially dangerous. Ironic, considering they were in a safer area now. At least they assumed so.

They hoped so.

They would normally eat breakfast at this time, probably. They weren't ever exactly sure what time it was, but that's how it's been their whole life. It felt like it was around that time, at least.

“my bro said there's a bakery here.” Another pause. Okay, he didn't have to make this that awkward. “you two wanna scope the place out with me?”

Killer’s smile perked up at the edges. “hate to say it, that sounded like you just asked us out on a date.”

“‘k, forget i asked.” He made the move to shut the door.

“nah, i’m joking! we’ll go—” he whipped his head to Dusk for verification, who gave him a thumbs up. “—yeah, let's go.”

So they got out of the hotel room. The lobby had a few people, unlike last time.

None of the three really acknowledged anyone there and no one acknowledged them, until some Monster Kid said a mere hello that made them all awkwardly respond; either with a curt head nod, wave, or quiet “hi” back.

Boy, they weren't ready to be perceived by anyone else. How the hell were they going to handle entering a cafe, let alone going outside? Well, Sans managed, so.

Sans was probably the most stable of the three, let's be real. He was the only one who had contact with other people before Nightmare came to them. When it comes to interaction, Killer and Dusk have done nothing but literally talk to themselves for who knows how long.

The second Sans started to open the door, Killer protested, “actually. could you just grab me something instead? i’ll stay in the room.” When he turned to retreat, Dusk grabbed him by the arm.

Dusk gave him a look that spelled “really, coward?”

“i don't think i’m ready, okay? sue me,” he said. He could already feel eyes on him. The stares gnawed away at his bones, trying to eat him alive. 

They knew what he wanted to do.

Dusk sighed, letting go of his arm. “we can't go,” he signed to Sans.

“right…” he sounded disappointed—no that was pity in his voice. He probably didn’t even expect the two to agree in the first place. “anything specific you want?”

“nothin’ with chocolate.”

Dusk shook his head.

“gotcha. i’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Dusk and Killer watched as he sauntered off to be a normal monster that was a part of society. Then they walked at a breakneck pace back to their room.

Once they were back in the safety of their private room, they collapsed on their beds.

Killer, face buried against his pillow, groaned in frustration. “i hate this. we're safe now and i can't even go outside. do you feel it too, dusk? that tug on your soul?”

He might kill someone if he went outside. It was highly likely.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy to return to a normal life—of course his high LOVE would haunt him. He was too tired yesterday to be bothered by it, but now, any other monster he saw that wasn't Dusk or Sans had his soul screaming for more exp.

“i’m trying to ignore it,” Dusk mumbled.

He laughed. That's not going to work. That is not going to work and they both know it. 

That’s.

That's not going to work.

“it was—it was better when we were stuck with Nightmare. we wouldn't be able to—”

“It wasn’t better,” Dusk interrupted.

“—we’re going to kill someone. we're going to kill someone and it's going to snowball and it'll—hah—it'll be like a snowball of dust!”

He was choking now, on the rotten determination coming out of his skull.

“killer.”

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer.

“killer!”

That's all he was.

“Killer.”

Oh, someone was holding him by the shoulders. Wow, everything was blurry and stained black. No, that was just the liquid in his sockets. He tilted his head down, letting it flow out until he could see better.

Oh, it was Dusk. Right.

He shuddered out a breath. He realized all his senses had turned off for the past few seconds. When the hell did he get on the floor?

His eyelights finally focused enough to stare back at Dusk. He didn't like the worried look he had on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but all that did was make him hack out more rotten determination.

“well…” the sentence died on his teeth the second he started. “i want to go back to sleep,” he settled on saying.

Dusk brought him into a stilted not-quite-a-hug, where he brought him closer and draped his skull over his shoulder.

They just. Stayed there. For a bit.

“another episode…i’m starting a daily streak, really.” Any humor he thought that statement would have was completely absent. God, how fucking pathetic was he? Surely Dusk was struggling with his LOVE just as much as he was but he didn’t fuss about it. He shouldn’t need Dusk’s comfort and Dusk shouldn’t need to comfort him. He was so selfish. So needy.

Killer willed himself to move away from Dusk to lay back down on his bed.

The room was quiet until someone knocked on the door again.

Dusk opted to answer the door since Killer wasn't budging.

Fortunately it was Sans who was at the door but unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Behind him was another skeleton he hadn't seen before.

He wore monochromatic clothing and there were large x’s on his sleeves and boots. He looked a lot younger than all of them. He must've been in his 20’s. His eyelights were a lot bigger than the average sans, with a slitted pupil reminiscent of a cat’s.

Despite the youthful look, one glance was enough to tell Dusk that he had a lot of LOVE too. It wasn’t nearly as much as he or Killer had, but it was more than the amount Sans had.

Dusk glared at the stranger as if he personally wronged him.

Sans didn’t look too happy either with the death grip he had on the bag containing their breakfast.

“hey,” Sans said. He walked in as if everything was fine and normal.

The stranger also tried walking in as if everything was fine and normal.

A wall of bones rose in front of him to block his path.

Killer sat up on the bed, “nope. not dealing with unwelcome company now, thank you.”

The stranger cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “well, i’m actually the organizer of this place. the name’s cross. i’m sure ink told you three about me.”

“i’ve never heard of you in my life,” Killer said.

It was painfully clear that Cross was already annoyed by Killer, despite his attempts to keep his face neutral. “i’ll just get to the point—”

“he’s gonna test us. if we pass, we can stay. if we don’t, we’re getting kicked out,” Sans said. He opened the bag of food and grabbed a pastry for himself before handing it over to Dusk.

Dusk hesitated as he grabbed the bag. He quickly grabbed the first pastry he laid his hand on and turned to Killer.

“we’re getting kicked out?” Killer repeated.

“only if you don’t pass the test,” Cross emphasized.

Killer stood up as the wall of bones went away. He shambled over to him with a misleadingly calm expression. He leaned close to Cross’s head, keeping his hands by his sides. “what’s the test?”

Cross stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on Killer as if he would attack him if he merely glanced away. “a rescue mission,” he answered with a steady voice despite the tension.

“the blue guy said you weren’t going to torture us,” Killer spat.

“it’s not torture. i have a plan. it should be simple,” Cross insisted.

He narrowed his eye sockets. “so why are you using us as fodder?”

“it’s a test.”

Sans snagged the bag from Dusk and shoved it over to Killer. “no point in complainin’, just roll with it.”

Killer pushed the bag aside. “why are you being so compliant? he’s going to send us to our deaths!”

“because we don’t have a choice,” he sighed. “besides, we’ve gone through hell and back, what’s one more trial?”

Killer caved in and grabbed the bag to fish out a pastry for himself. He took a hefty bite from it specifically to talk with his mouth full, “you gonna leave us alone after we complete this ‘rescue mission’?”

“yeah, just this one thing and you’ll all prove that i can trust you to stay here.”

Killer winced at the word “trust”. He quickly scarfed the rest of the pastry down. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Cross for putting them through a trial considering that they’re all murderers. Well, he didn’t think Sans should be judged to the same extent as them. He needed to kill all those humans in order to survive.

“why does sans need to go too? his friends and family have already been staying here,” he asked.

Cross looked surprised by his question. Fucker probably didn’t expect him to be considerate. “the plan’s easier with three people, and all three of you worked with nightmare.”

“worked!?” Killer shoved the bag towards Sans and grabbed Cross by his shirt. “we didn’t work with that bastard. he KIDNAPPED us! if you think for one second that we associated with him? oh you got it entirely wrong, asshole! do you think we had fun being his fucking toys?” he snapped.

“killer, let go of him,” Sans said.

“y’know what? fine. i’ll do your stupid test. nothing you put me through will be worse than what he did to us,” he snarled before pushing him away.

Cross fixed the wrinkles Killer made on his clothes. His nonchalant behavior pissed Killer off even more.

He was lucky he actually listened to Sans.

“sorry, i wasn’t aware of that,” he said quietly.

Killer calmed down only slightly at the apology. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “you better be.”

Cross waited for them to finish eating breakfast before he went over the plan.

As he talked more, the three were even less psyched about doing this.

They were going to disguise themselves and then enter the place through a portal made by Ink. The first part of the plan was finding the right monster. Cross handed them an image for reference. They collectively sighed when they saw it was yet another Sans. If he wasn't wearing the same outfit it would be hard to find him, that's not to mention that Cross said the place they were infiltrating was a packed warehouse.

The second part of the plan was actually leaving the place. Which was supposedly the easier part of the plan because Ink will arrive and make another portal once they find the monster.

All in all, this just sounded like some dumb hidden object game rather than a rescue mission.

Ink arrived at the room shortly after Cross finished explaining. He came in holding a pile of clothes, their disguises.

Said clothes were all campy and flashy.

“in what world,” Sans held up a sequin jacket that had colors that could blind hawks, “are these disguises?”

“Well you're going to a party! A rave, specifically,” Ink explained.

Killer snatched a red leather jacket and bell bottom jeans from the pile. “all of these shirts suck, i’m gonna change.” He went over to the bathroom with the articles in hand.

“Oh yeah!” Ink snapped his hand. He reached into the pockets of his pants and took out three pairs of sunglasses, each were different shapes. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

“glasses,” Sans remarked.

Dusk and Sans exchanged glances with each other.

“it's really bright there,” Cross explained.

“in a warehouse?”

“trust me, the strobe lights could probably blind you otherwise.”

Sans narrowed his sockets.

Killer finished changing and waltzed out of the bathroom, flaunting his gaudy outfit.

“no shirt?” Sans remarked.

“i said they all suck.”

“surely you could just wear the shirt you already had on.”

“actually,” Cross butted in, “after you three get back we’re burning those clothes immediately. so probably don't wear anything that's actually yours.”

“and why are you doing that?”

“Cooties,” Ink deadpanned.

Cross frowned at him.

“Anyways, take a pair. Whatever you do, do not take them off.” Ink held out the shades with a wink.

Killer opted for the triangular ones while Dusk grabbed the rectangular ones and Sans got the circular ones.

Then Dusk and Sans grabbed whatever clothing, tossing any attempts to make a cohesive outfit out the window, and took turns changing in the bathroom.

Finally, Cross looked over the three, determining if their disguises were good to go. Dusk and Sans’s fits were horrible. That neon fluffy bucket hat that Sans wore was definitely not comfortable. At least Killer had a cohesive outfit.

He spent a second longer looking at Killer's sunglasses. He leaned close to Ink. “it doesn't cover his sockets fully,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fiiine,” Ink assured. He clasped his hands together. “Okay! You're all ready to go. Don't forget, you're looking for Epic, the most notable feature is the scar on his eye socket. Keep your distance from other partygoers and do not take off those shades.” His scarf swept at the floor underneath the three, creating holes that lead to their destination.

The three could barely see Ink waving goodbye as they fell.

The landing wasn't bad, all of them landed on their feet just fine, but the change in atmosphere gave them whiplash. While it was dark as night, strobe lights flashed and lit up the place erratically.

Oh god the music.

Eurodance from the 90’s was blasting with bass heavy enough to shake the building.

Oh god, the amount of monsters.

They were also dressed in gaudy outfits, which explained why their disguises were like that.

“cool. all we need to do is find whoever the hell ‘epic’ is. should we split?” Killer asked.

“oh god no,” Sans said.

Dusk grabbed them by their shoulders to drag them around and start their search.

“they're all wearing glasses too, didn't they say a scar on the socket is how we can differentiate him?” Sans said.

Killer groaned, “this is gonna take forever! we should just ask around or something.”

“you suddenly in the mood for social interaction?”

“this sensory nightmare’s making me feel like i’m floating out of my body, i just want to get this over with.” Killer approached one of the partygoers. “hey, y’know where a skeleton called epic is?”

He was completely ignored.

“cool. awesome. if we don't split up this’ll literally take forever, peace.” Killer walked off without waiting for the other two’s input.

Dusk and Sans watched as he got lost in the crowd in a whopping five seconds.

Dusk face palmed.

“maybe…maybe we can ask the dj? then they'll put out an announcement, or something,” Sans said.

“not that simple,” Dusk signed. He spelled out “fishy”.

“would it hurt to try?”

Dusk frantically shook his fist in a “yes.”

“eh, don't be a downer. where is the dj, anyway?” He looked around, fortunately most of the monsters here were around the same height as him so his view wasn't too obstructed. “yeesh, this place is big.”

The strobe lights flickered more as they all started moving to one point. The lights shone on the DJ station, the DJ themself was still shrouded in darkness. The sound of scratching discs filled the building as the music quieted down. “HOW WE FEELIN’ BROSEPHS ‘N JOESEPHS!?”

A mechanical roar of cheers rang out among the crowd.

They recognized that voice. They most definitely recognized that voice.

Dusk grabbed Sans by the arm.

“okay,” Sans breathed, “that's fine. maybe, no one knows his deal. we can just. leave the building.”

Dusk tugged at Sans, pointing furiously at the ground.

It was hard to notice due to how dark and packed it is, but on the ground were several piles of dust.

“hm. nice knowing ya.”

“You party animals havin’ fun?! I know I am, yo!” The unmistakable sound of Fresh’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse. The lights finally shone on him. He looked exactly the same as the first time they saw him. He was spinning. a disc on his finger. “I just gots some totes rad news before we continue on with gettin’ jiggy.”

The colored lights moved over to his side, revealing a stage that was hidden in the darkness, and on the stage was Killer. He looked confused, as if he didn't even know how he got up there.

Sans nearly swore but Dusk slapped a hand over his mouth.

When he caught sight of Fresh he stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Any bros know this fool?” Fresh asked. He put the disk back on the turntable and scratched his chin. “I don't. Did we invite him?” His bemusement barely masked his elation at having prey he didn't have to catch.

Killer didn't know what to do. He looked down at the crowd. The sunglasses they wore were originally all blank but the familiar “YOLO” text was on them now.

Running definitely wasn't going to help.

“Eh no biggie. I’ll give him a proper introduction to this rad party.” Fresh turned the music back on.

Killer internally swore at Cross, cursing his entire life. He was going to die and it was going to be to the fucking tune of a stupid 90’s song about sex. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

He summoned a blaster aimed at Fresh and fired.

Only for one of the partygoers to leap into the blast to block it.

Killer watched in horror as he dusted that monster. The familiar rush of exp hit him like a truck, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

“oh god,” Sans muttered from the crowd.

The three were completely powerless in this situation. This wasn't a fucking test. They were sent to their deaths.

What a sick joke.

“Oh snap! Well, you're just gonna hafta replace that now, aren't ya?” Fresh disappeared with a poof, promptly reappearing behind Killer.

Killer quickly pushed himself up and backed away from him.

Fresh didn't even follow him, the stage wasn't that big anyway.

He reached the edge of the stage, back to the crowd. Only Fresh could see the fear on his face.

Some of the crowd climbed on stage to grab his ankles, anchoring him down.

 He was hyperventilating, he was overwhelmed, he felt nothing at all.

He felt nothing at all.

Dusk and Sans went as far as they could away from the stage. They eventually reached a wall. Sans leaned against it in defeat while Dusk banged his skull against it.

Sans winced at the loud thud.

They could vaguely see the stage from here. Killer was gone and Fresh returned to his station.

The party continued on like nothing happened.

“so. do you think you’ll end up back in your universe after, or.”

Dusk huffed.

“right.” Dumb question.

They just stood there against the wall watching the neverending party. They questioned if this was hell or purgatory. No, this was definitely hell.

“ey, i finally found you guys.” It was Killer.

Dusk and Sans tensed.

His soul was a shape they’ve never seen it be before. It was in the shape of a flower.

“chillax, i’m not gonna do anything,” he said. His cadence was off. “you two have just been standing there all gloomy…” He put a hand on the wall just above Dusk’s shoulder. “why don’t you come join the fun?”

With how close he was, Dusk was able to see the parasitic flower in the small sliver of his sockets that wasn't covered by the triangular shades.

Killer leaned closer to his face. “c’mon, i’m getting lonely.”

Sans socked him in the face.

Dusk flinched back in surprise as Killer fell to the ground from the impact.

Sans shook the pain off his hand. “i think we're good.”

Dusk knelt down by Killer. He took his shades off and immediately plunged his hand into the socket containing the flower.

“uh—” Sans reached a hand out but was interrupted by Killer’s lucid screaming.

The nearby skeletons slowed their dancing, turning over to the interruption.

With one last quick yank, the flower snapped off. Dusk dropped it and stamped his foot on it repeatedly.

Killer gasped for air and keened in pain. Then he passed out.

Dusk blinked in shock.

Sans cringed, “think you went a bit overboard.”

“you were the one who punched him!” Dusk blurted stupidly.

“yup, and you committed malpractice.”

The music came to a halt with a dramatic record scratch.

The lights landed on the three.

“Yo, dudes. Quit harshin’ the vibe,” Fresh scoffed into the mic.

Dusk rolled his eyelights and picked Killer up, draping him over his shoulder.

They were surrounded now, by the skeletons under his control.

Dusk summoned multiple blasters overhead, ready to fire if any of them stepped closer.

“Yeesh! You three weren't even invited! What's the dealio? That scummy octo brought you here to rustle my jimmies or something?”

That. Wasn't even 90’s lingo.

There was some feedback coming from the mic. “That thing’s not comin’ here for real, actually, right?” For once he sounded unsure.

Was he actually threatened by Nightmare?

They had to roll with the lie. They could survive this. They just had to convince him he was coming.

Sans put a hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “nah yeah, he won't have to intervene as long as we get what he needs.”

“Bogus! Whaddaheck would that dillweed need?”

Sans pulled out the image of Epic from his pocket and showed it to the nearest partygoer. “we just need this guy, and we'll be outta your hair.”

“Oooh, yeah, I get what you're layin’ down.”

Said nearest partygoer grabbed Sans’s wrist.

“You're fibbin’.”

Welp.

Dusk was just about to fire the blasters on standby, only for a cluster of bones to sprout from the ceiling and stab through the giant skulls.

Dusk grumbled. He adjusted his grip on Killer so that he didn't drop him.

“you're kinda grabbing his butt,” Sans pointed out.

“we’ve done worse.”

“go back to not talking.”

“Aight. So y’all come on in uninvited and interrupt my bodacious party? S’all good. I’ll let you dudes bounce…not!” Fresh yelled into the mic. “I’m gonna enjoy taking y’all over. You're not worming your way out this time.”

Right as his sentence ended, it was disproved. A portal opened. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

That portal looked similar to the ones Nightmare made, actually.

“Ah, nah, what’s the dealio?”

But instead of the guardian of negativity arriving, a huge wave of tiny not-quite-skeletons poured in like a flood.

“what,” Dusk and Sans said in unison as absolute chaos unfolded in the warehouse.

These “not-quite-skeletons” acted more like hyperactive temmies. Their giant skulls were bigger than the rest of their body making them look more like aliens than anything. They all wore bandanas that matched the color of their huge star eyelights. They bounded around the place causing total anarchy.

Fresh among others were trampled by these small menaces. Some were simply dancing to the music while others were actively jumping some of the partygoers. They swore they even saw one playing with a pile of dust.

And all of this was happening while “We Like to Party!” by the Vengaboys was playing.

A second portal opened up behind them. They didn't even get to process this before someone yanked them through.

They both landed on their backs. Killer peacefully laid atop Dusk, still managing to sleep through that all. Hopefully he wasn't in a coma.

Dusk and Sans looked at each other, unsure if they were both already dead or if what they saw was all real.

Certainly one hell of a deus ex machina, but with all the shit they’ve gone through they might as well accept it with open arms.

It was Blue that stood over them, looking utterly concerned. “oh my GOD, you three almost died! well, you would’ve been under fresh’s control for whoever knows how long and then you would collapse from exhaustion and then die, but still,” he rambled. He put a hand on his face. “If my plan didn't work…well! Glad it did! Even if it wasn't the one I initially had,” he sighed in relief. “I’m SO sorry you guys went through that! I told Cross not to do it but, ARGH, no one listens to me!” He stomped his foot, it reminded them of Papyrus.

Another portal appeared next to him and two skeletons walked out. One was dressed like they just walked out of an anime convention and the other was clearly a skeleton from Fresh’s party.

“Thank you so much Dream,” Blue said.

Dream?

The two looked closely at him. There was a star made out of magic floating by his forehead. It reminded them of the crescent moon that rested near Nightmare's forehead. He was the one that created the portals similar to him too.

“you're his brother,” Sans said.

“Hm? Brother? I don’t…”

“They already know he's your brother, Dream,” Blue interrupted.

Dream darted his eyelights away guiltily. “I promise you, I’m not like him at all. I’m so sorry he held you all captive for a year! It must've been horrible.”

Dusk and Sans didn't really care about the needless pity. Both of them had one thing on their mind and it was punching the living daylights out of Cross.

“Right…” Blue said awkwardly. “Anyway, Dream, please tend to Epic, I’ll take these guys from here.”

Dream nodded and teleported himself and the other skeleton, who was apparently Epic, off to someplace else.

Blue stared down at the three who hadn't budged at all. “So, do you guys need help getting up, or.”

“i’m staying down here, thanks,” Sans said.

“Is Killer knocked out, or sleeping?”

“he's been out cold ever since Dusk ripped off the flower in his socket.”

Blue smacked the side of his skull, looking distraught. He looked around the place—they just realized they were in someone's living room—and told them to stay there before bolting off to another room.

Sans turned his attention to Killer and Dusk. “are you just gonna have him lay on top of you the whole time?”

Dusk shrugged. Honestly he was kind of comfortable like this. Killer was like a weighted blanket.

Sans finally got up from the floor, stretching his back with a groan. He stumbled over to the couch nearby and flopped onto it. He massaged his face. “god, i don't want to do anything ever again.”

Dusk hummed in agreement.

Blue came back shortly after with a stash of snacks. He dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “I got some snacks so you guys can replenish your energy. Do any of you know healing magic?”

Dusk nodded.

Blue walked over to him, leaning down to pick up Killer off of him only for Dusk to slap his hand away. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were stuck,” he said, embarrassed.

Dusk sat up, holding Killer in his arms. He carefully put his hand over his soul and started healing it.

“you're not even going to eat first—Okay, that's fine.” Blue looked away from the poor medical practice. He waited a moment. “Okay, you're not supposed to keep going until he wakes up, you're gonna overload his soul with magic.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and drew his hand away.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. In the meantime,” he grabbed something off the table and threw it at him, “eat something!”

The packaged snack bumped his head and fell to the floor sadly.

Dusk laid Killer down, having his head rest on his legs so that he could pick up the snack and eat it.

Blue turned to Sans. “You should eat something too.”

Sans glanced at the food on the table, then back at Blue. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

Blue looked disheartened by his suspicion. He fidgeted with his hands. “because i want to. And why wouldn't I? Everyone deserves help!”

“real naive of you to say.”

Blue’s expression hardened. “Fine, maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I want to feel like I’m worth something by helping people out. Maybe I’m sick of people dying when I could’ve done something. Maybe I’m guilty, so I help assholes like you in order to cope! Is that a selfish enough answer for you?”

Sans grabbed something off the table to eat. “sure.”

Blue sighed, crossing his arms. “good.”

They sat in silence as the two ate a bit. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Killer finally woke up.

He rolled off of Dusk. He immediately fired a round of questions, “everything hurts. why’s it so dark. where am i?”

“The lights are on?” Blue said.

“who the hell are you?”

“i think you blinded him, dude,” Sans said.

“what?!” Killer shouted.

“He shouldn’t be permanently blinded, he just needs to eat!” Blue assured. “Carelessly yanking out Fresh’s flower temporarily blinds the victim because it injures the orbit, and any injury to that area causes temporary blindness as our magic prioritizes healing it over being able to see.”

“oh, you’re the nerd that gave us food yesterday.”

“i’m the huh?” Blue mumbled. He shook off the insult and grabbed some packaged crackers off the table to give to Killer. “Anyway, we’re not at the hub right now. You guys are gonna crash at my place, which is here, until I give Cross a talk.”

Killer gnawed on the crackers without removing the wrapper, until Dusk snatched it from him to properly open it and hand it back to him. 

Killer poured the crumbs into his mouth, a good amount of it missed and landed on the floor which Blue decided to ignore.

After blinking a few times, Killer was able to see again. “where is ‘here’?”

“I don’t really have time to explain what this place is but uh, I suggest not going outside because you might end up in a different universe,” Blue said casually. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but in case I am, you guys are free to raid the kitchen, watch some tv, etc—Oh yeah! I also have a book containing all my notes on the multiverse if you wanna read it. Since you three are outcodes now it’ll be useful to know about some of the threats and important areas in the multiverse.”

The three of them looked at him like he was speaking a different language.

He coughed into his hand and pulled the book out from his inventory to set it on the coffee table. He awkwardly waved goodbye which got no responses and left the house.

“that guy’s too nice,” Killer remarked. “how hasn’t he died?”

“my guess is dumb luck or he’s hiding something.” Sans sat up on the couch, looking curiously at the book, which was actually just some spiral bound notebook. He picked it up, might as well read it to pass the time.

Killer stood up, stumbling a bit as he waited for the vertigo to pass. “i’m gonna snoop around,” he announced.

“have fun with that.”

While Killer wandered off and Sans read, Dusk went over to the fridge.

Sans flipped through the pages of the notebook, skimming over the titles of various names of people and places. He paused when he saw Nightmare’s name.

“dusk, get over here!”

Dusk walked over with no haste at all. He was holding two glasses, and was currently drinking out of one. He held out the other to Sans.

Sans looked up from the book to see the concoction he was giving him. It was nearly the same as all the past times Dusk made the mistake of playing bartender. Except this time…”did you add crushed chips? that thing has at least four different textures in it now.”

Dusk shrugged.

Killer walked back in the room, looking very dissatisfied. He wasn’t able to find anything interesting or any skeletons in the closet. His sights immediately landed on the drinks. “what the fuck is that?” he chuckled.

“nah, killer this ain’t for you.” Sans took the second drink from Dusk’s hand.

“aw, what?”

“anyway,” he took a sip, “this guy has notes about nightmare.”

Killer walked around the table and sat next to Sans. “woah, that's crazy.” He leaned closer at the book, but quickly switched his target to the drink.

Unfortunately, Sans was quick enough to move the drink away before he could take a sip.

Killer grumbled disappointedly and looked back at the book, actually reading the page this time. “i mean, we already know all of this, i don't see how this is…” he trailed off as he got halfway through the page. “huh. he’s had quite the history.”

“whaddya think being ‘the guardian of negativity’ means?”

“does it matter? we hate him. end of story.”

Sans eyed the line that said Nightmare couldn't feel positive emotions. If that was true, that explained a lot of things, but did that change anything? Not really. “yeah, i guess it doesn't.”

Once he was back at the hub, Blue hunted down Cross. His angry speech died on his metaphorical tongue the second he saw him and Epic having a reunion. He stopped in his tracks and watched them from a distance.

Ink appeared by his side, also watching the two. “Ah, a happy ending.” “It was completely unnecessary for any of this to happen and you know it,” Blue said sternly.

Ink pouted. “Aw, are you mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to send those three to their deaths.”

Blue scowled at him. “But it’s your fault Fresh kidnapped Epic in the first place.” Ink looked dumbfounded and then guilty, like a dog that was caught doing something it shouldn’t. “You’re getting too good at reading me…” he sighed. “How long did you know?”

“The second we found out it was Fresh that took Epic I immediately knew it was you,” Blue deadpanned. There were only a few people who could’ve let Fresh into the place, and only one person who would’ve. Besides, ever since Cross rescued Epic from his scripted death, Ink would glare at him like he personally wronged him.

“Aw,” Ink gave him a hug, “and you didn’t tell anyone?” He didn’t just not tell anyone he also covered for him. There was a reason Cross didn’t know he did it. “There wasn’t any point to.” “And you wouldn’t rat out your best friend!”

Blue flicked his cheek bone. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. He ended the hug with Ink with a gentle shove. “Those three are probably gonna try to kill Cross though. I’m making that your responsibility.”

Ink giggled at the idea of the three hunting down Cross. “Eh, he can handle that on his own.”

[feather-and-roses]

The crazy thing to me about Eurylochus staging a mutiny is like... He's such a worse captain? Like this guy delivers shit call after shit call and then is all "How dare you" when Odysseus makes a hard decision that very well could have been the right one.

Like in the third song, he's like, "let's take 600 men and go raid this island and kill everything in our path." Then it's "let's kill the Cyclops and lock us all in his cave," and then when Odysseus is being all big brain and they are explicitly surrounded by Cyclops, he's like, fuck it, lets run for our lives actually.

And then mother fucker opens the wind bag when they're five minutes from home because he just routinely makes a habit of not trusting the guy who's like a brother to him.

And then he wants to leave the men on Circe's island. Just fuck those guys. And Odysseus says no actually those are my guys I'm gonna save them, and Eurylochus has a whole song bitching and moaning about please let's just screw those guys she's so scary.

And then as if that's not enough, Odysseus makes a call that you just know breaks his fucking heart, and Eurylochus, who has killed 567 men with his own curiosity, looks at the man who killed 6 out of necessity, and says "I could be a better captain than you."

And Odysseus forgives him. Until the very end he's begging Eurylochus to just listen. To just trust him. "We can get home." He doesn't plan to leave Eurylochus behind, he wants to get them both home. He doesn't abandon Eurylochus until it becomes either or. And even then he has the decency to feel sorry about it. To mourn him. To remember him as a brother and not a traitor.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You ever thought about the fact that, if Killer retains his SAVE, LOAD, and RESET abilities he's, like, basically a necromancer but for whole ass universes?

Like, he could genuinely go into any universe, reset it to Frisk's fall, kill them for good (aka convince the Player that their game is bugged by spawn killing them until they give up), and voila! The universe is fixed!

Like, I don't think he'd actually do it (especially considering the fact that to him Players are basically gods and he doesn't seem to want to challenge them) but I do think that if this possibility is ever revealed to others there are quite a few people who'd try to pressure him into it.

Perhaps not, like, Dust. 'Cause he's already too far gone to think there's any fixing his universe. But what about Horror or Cross? (It probably wouldn't work with Cross since there is some far greater bullshittery going on there, but he'd definitely nag at Killer until he at least tries).

I'm firmly of the belief that Color would never pressure him into it. But what if word spreads? What if it reaches Dream? He definitely could use something like that, and it would be for the greater good. I don't even think the pressure from him would be malicious, but Killer's not in the mental state to take it well.

And if the rumor spreads to someone like Error, he may be incentivized to get rid of him. As for Nightmare, he'd probably double his efforts to yoink him back.

I also don't think that Killer would be a fan of using any of those powers since they're heavily related to Chara and his trauma. Like, no matter how this goes, no matter if he agrees to help or not, he's gonna have a shit time.

Holy hell, no matter where this guy goes, someone just always wants to use him as their weapon, huh. Can’t he ever just catch a break.

And id imagine both the idea of going against Players, saying no to saving universes (because he’s trying to be “good” now and “good” people would save universes right?), and actually saving universes which actively goes against what he was made for would create an absolute shitstorm of psychological, mental, emotional and behavioral regression in killer.

color is definitely gonna have to step up and defend killer against being used again. killer is already struggling to think of himself as a person let alone a “good” person, it’d be so easy to guilt trip him when he’s in stage 1–knowingly and intentionally or not. And it’d be so easy to take advantage of him once he’s in Stage 2 and too apathetic to care about his own well being.

Because yes it would definitely improve his standing in the eyes of the multiverse and it could do a lot of good, but not only would it draw in more people who want to use him, and would once again set him back to viewing himself as a weapon. Different from a killing machine, but still nonetheless someone’s machine.

He’s already struggling under Nightmare to not kill, because the Boss needed people alive for negativity and yet killing is Stage 4’s first instincts.

And putting him in a similar situation as the one with Chara and Nightmare is just asking for his soul to tip over into Stage 4 permanently and completely losing himself. Perhaps this is the situation that sends him mentally regressing back to the early days with Chara even.

{ @stellocchia }

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 6

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Sorry this chapter took much longer than usual. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this on the page but y'all might already know... I'm a nurse. So my schedule is nice because I only work 3 days or nights a week but... sometimes those days/nights knock me on my ass. This week was no exception.

I really appreciate every single person who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my work. It means EVERYTHING to me. I hope you all enjoy this part!

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.2k+

You had been flipped to nights this week and your body was suffering from the sudden change to your circadian rhythm. You and Carly walked to the parking garage in exhausted silence together as the sun rose over the hospital. It was a hard night to say the least, you both were assigned to unstable elderly patients that seemed to be circling the drain. It almost felt cruel to keep them from dying peacefully because there was no way they were ever going to get better. The life sustaining care you were forced to give was just prolonging the inevitable. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Bradley tried to text you when he woke up at 5am for work to ask how your shift was going. You quickly responded that it was crazy and that you couldn’t talk until you got off at 7:30.

Bradley Bradshaw: Please tell me you’re out of there and able to see this incredible sun rise

You: I am, thank God! I love San Diego sunrises

“Who’s that?” Carly peered over at your phone and saw the name, “Oh my god! He’s checking in on you post shift?!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s his second time checking in on me, he texted me when he got up earlier but I said things were too crazy on the unit to talk.”

“What happened between you two then?” She asked, “You said he didn’t stay the night or anything.”

You knew she was going to ask for more information soon enough. You two were on your feet caring for your patients all night so there was no time to catch up at the nurse’s station. “He didn’t. But we hung out for a while, talked, drank a lot of wine, and he couldn’t drive himself home. So he took an Uber and then took me to brunch when he came to pick up his car.”

“He didn’t kiss you?” She asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, didn’t after brunch either.”

“Huh,” she looked puzzled, “He’s obviously so into you, we could all see it at the bar. And he took you out on a date. And he’s texting you first thing when he wakes up… he obviously likes you. Why hasn’t he kissed you?!?!”

You shrugged, “I mean, maybe he isn’t and he just wants to be friends. I also feel like dating a former patient probably breaks some kind of nursing ethics code.”

It was something that occurred to you after brunch with Bradley the day before, the possibility of this flirtation messing with your professional life.

Carly’s face dropped when the two of you stopped at your car, “Oh my god… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, “Yeah… so I’ve gotta ask you and I’d like you to pass it on to Madi and Sam too, not to discuss Saturday or my… friendship with Bradley at work.”

She nodded, “Of course, I’m sorry I even brought it up briefly when we got on the unit last night.”

“It’s okay, no one was around to hear. I’m just not very well liked by the senior nurses and some of the providers. I just don’t want to give them something to talk about, you know?” You explained.

“Absolutely. When is your contract up?” She asked.

“4 weeks, they asked me to extend though.” You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Are you gonna do it? Or is it too early in the morning to talk about this?” She giggled.

You nodded, “Bingo. Let’s leave this as ‘to be continued’.”

“Alright, get home safe.” She waved you off and headed towards her car a few spots away. 

Once in your Toyota Corolla and buckled, you blasted loud music and freezing cold AC to keep you awake and alert on your commute home. Once there you peaked at your phone.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now that you’ve enjoyed the sunrise, you gotta get your ass to bed.

You: Yes sir, I’ll be out of commission until 1500 hours.

When you arrived home, you looked at your phone again to see Bradley replied with the saluting emoji. You dragged yourself out of the car and up to your apartment, in front of your door was a plastic takeout bag. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up, it was clearly left there just minutes ago. You blinked through your exhausted blurry vision and saw a note typed in the comments on the receipt… it was from the same place you had brunch with Bradley two days before.

“After working through the night, you deserve a true Californian breakfast and a nap. —Bradshaw”

This may be one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for you in a while. You were so exhausted, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of the parcel. When you entered your apartment, you threw your bag down and went straight to the kitchen. You opened the bag to find a breakfast burrito neatly wrapped in aluminum foil, Bradley’s go to menu item. Maybe it was because of the surprise of it waiting for you at the door or because you were absolutely starving, but that thing tasted better than sex. You started your post night shift ritual with a shower. After brushing your teeth, doing your skin care, and changing into comfy clothes, you drew the black out curtains in your room, turned on the sound machine, and set an alarm for 2pm before popping a melatonin gummy. After many years as a nurse and often flipping between days and nights, you had this sleep ritual down to an absolute science.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

Y/N <3: thank you so much for breakfast. That may be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Rooster’s heart fluttered when the message flashed across his phone around 8AM. The Dagger Squad had just finished running a drill that ended with 200 push ups. That small rush made him forget how his muscles were screaming at him. He went to reply and saw the “do not disturb” icon was on. He was so glad since that meant you were most likely sleeping. So he left a reply for you to wake up to.

Bradley: I’m glad it came just in time! Hope you’re taking the best nap ever :)

“Is that sexy nurse?” Natasha inquired as she peered over his shoulder.

Rooster rolled his eyes, “Phoenix, she has a name… and that’s none of your business.”

“So yes,” she smirked, “you are texting her.”

“I’m replying to her,” he corrected, “she worked all night last night and is on again tonight. So she won’t get it until she wakes up.”

She stood on her tip toes to get a better look at the screen, “You sent her breakfast?!?!”

Bradley was not loving this line of questioning but he knew he had to answer or Phoenix would never lay off, “I sent UberEats for her to come home too.”

“You are down bad, my friend.” She shook her head.

“Am not.” He quipped back.

“ Are too!” She shoved him.

“That’s not fair Phoenix, just cause you’re one of the boys doesn’t mean I’ll stoop low enough to shove a woman.” He groaned.

She chuckled, “You’re just scared to get your shit rocked, Bradshaw.”

Hangman suddenly appeared beside Phoenix, skillfully placing her in a headlock. “Is this little lady giving you trouble, Rooster?”

She squirmed and screamed, “Hangman, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Ya know Phoenix,” he sighed, “Forever the bully.”

Phoenix reached over and Hangman a firm tap in the junk, causing him to jump and release her.

Rooster couldn’t help but smile as the two of them fought like siblings.

“I was asking him about the hot nurse from the other night.” She explained, “He’s texting her and sent breakfast to her place for her to come home to after work.”

Hangman’s face lit up, “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley… I never thought I’d see the day. You’re courtin’ a fine lady.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Courting is a strong word. I’m showing her that I’m… kinda interested.”

Hangman and Phoenix gave each other knowing looks.

Natasha nodded, “Uh huh, yeah. Sureeeeee.”

2pm rolled around and Bradley was wrapping up his work day on base.

Y/N <3: Not the best nap ever but pretty damn good. I’m gonna walk on the beach and get some sunshine before it’s back to the dungeon for the night. What are you up to for the rest of the day?

Should he shoot his shot? She wouldn’t keep engaging with him if she wasn’t at least a little interested, right?

Bradley: Joining you for a walk on the beach if you’ll allow it.

Y/N <3: I would love that. What time can you be at my place?

This was good. This was really good. She’s invited him back to her place. 

Bradley: I gotta change out of my uniform and stuff, how does 3 sound?

Y/N <3: Perfect, I’ll see you soon :)

Rooster had an extra skip in his step as he packed up his things, grateful for the 6am start allowing his work day to have an early finish. Once in his Bronco, he sped home to change into some casual clothes. He decided to really shake it up and not wear his usual Hawaiian shirt and jeans combo. A UVA t-shirt and some gym shorts seemed a lot more appropriate for a casual beach walk. Bradley really couldn’t believe he was putting that much thought into what he wore for something so casual. 

When he walked up to her door he could hear music through it. Whatever Y/N was listening to, she was clearly jamming. When he knocked, she quickly called out, “It’s open!”. He got a better listen to the music once the door was open, it was high energy with a… saxophone? It was kind of lit.

“What is this?” Bradley asked, “It’s awesome!”

“Modern Woman by Bleachers,” she entered the living room wearing a similar outfit to his, a university t-shirt and gym shorts, “Isn’t it great? Kinda gives me Springsteen vibes.”

He paused and listened a little more, “Yes, that’s spot on!”

“Let me just make sure I have my life together for work, so I can just change and leave later.” She said, heading toward the kitchen.

He took another good look at her as she took her lunchbox, water bottle, and an energy drink from the fridge and set it out on the counter. Fresh faced from her nap, hair in a bun, shorts and a t-shirt… he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Y/N paused for a moment and looked over at Rooster, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?”  

He shook his head, “Yes, everything’s great… you look great.”

She smiled shyly and continued her task, “Thank you, Bradley… are you ready to head to the beach?”

“Hell yeah,” he asked, “which beach are we headed to?”

“Nothing fancy, just the beach a few blocks away.” She shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind tagging along on my normal, boring jaunt.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, nothing with you could be boring. I’d have fun watching paint dry.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

The two of you walked along the shoreline; the waves ebbed and flowed across the sand and towards your feet. The wind whipped across your face and through your hair, making it dance wildly. Bradley looked so handsome beside you, you couldn’t help but stare and hope that maybe it would be less obvious since you had sunglasses on.

“I should start doing this more, it’s much more pleasant than running.” He chuckled to himself, “It’s so peaceful.”

You giggled, “Drinking bleach is more pleasant than running, in my opinion.”

“You’re not a runner?” He asked.

“Not unless something’s chasing me.” You quipped.

A smirk slowly crept across Bradley’s face. You weren’t exactly sure what was going through his head but you felt the sudden urge to start sprinting. Next thing you knew he was hot on your heels and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, running on sand was so freaking hard! Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease.

“BRADSHAW!!!” You cried out through your giggles, leaning your head back on his shoulder behind you.

His face burrowed into your neck, “You say you’re not a runner but you’re pretty speedy.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose to nose, still giggling breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said simply.

It was like two magnets, your lips crashed into his, there was no force that could stop it. Once you realized what you did, you quickly pulled away, “I’m so sorry.”

He placed you gently back on your feet, “Y/N, the only thing you owe me an apology for is stopping.”

Your stomach fluttered, “Soooo… you wanna do it again?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” He chuckled, grabbing you by the cheeks and stroking them sweetly with his thumb.

You stepped closer so you two were chest to chest and gently brushed your lips against his. With a jolt of pure electricity, you pressed deeper into his kiss. It wasn’t until this moment, when you tasted his lips, that you realized how fucking starving you were.

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[herearedragons]

The Hanged Man (Chapter 4: In The Wake)

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

The house was still burning when they left.

No one came to try and fight the fire; no one came to speak to them as they watched the flames, or as they walked away. But the village was wide awake, every house full of anxious minds; more often than not the curtains were drawn and the shutters closed, but Selene knew that there were eyes in every window they passed by.

At least some of those people must have been awake when the fire started. Some of them must have known exactly who did this. Selene could have found out everything about the attempt on Edér's life right there and then, simply by listening a little closer.

But there were many of them, and their anxious curiosity was laced with painful fear — and she was already in pain again, her headache back in full swing and her entire upper body starting to feel the aftereffects of Edér's borrowed strength.

She didn't have the endurance for it. Not right now.

That was the limit of a cipher's abilities: you could convince a mind, for a time, that its body was capable of more than it thought — and, for a time, the body would play along, but in the end reality would always return.

Still, in this case it was worth it. She'd pushed both herself and Edér, but in the end it meant that there were still two of them, when there could have been just one.

Now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, Selene was slowly coming to terms with that thought.

She'd almost lost her witness and her main ally. She didn't, but it was far too close.

Someone — multiple people working together, from the look of it — had made an attempt on Edér's life, while fully aware that he was under her protection. She'd announced it before the entire village, save for Algar, and even he was informed later.

This only made sense if the group that did this stood to lose more by letting Edér live than by making an enemy out of her.

Which only made sense if —

The realization cut through the haze of pain and exhaustion, sharp and bright.

Edér could help her. It wasn't just a matter of her intuition; someone else was afraid of them working together.

This meant two things.

First, she was on the right track with the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder.

Second, they would try again. If Selene's presence didn't scare them off, failure wouldn't either.

Which meant that she couldn't let Edér out of her sight.

He was walking silently by her side, his grief for his childhood home a dull ache in the back of her mind. Still, compared to what she felt — what he felt — as they watched the house burn, it was almost nothing.

Maybe she wasn't being a good agent when she chose to grit her teeth and sit with him instead of stepping away and taking stock of their surroundings. Sacrificing her own ability to function for the sake of comforting someone; Lady Webb might not have approved, had she known.

Selene remembered having a tooth pulled once, when she was younger. The actual pulling wasn't bad, a fellow cipher holding the pain away from her just like she did for Edér just now, but after it ached and ached and ached. Edér's mind as he stared at the flames felt a little like that: a deep-seated pain left in the wake of something gone.

But it weakened somewhat when she took his hand, and for that reason, she couldn't regret it.

Near the end of their walk to the Black Hound — Selene decided they'd both stay in her room for the night; she would figure out a new arrangement for Edér in the morning — Edér's thoughts stirred, alerting her that he was about to speak up.

She turned to him a second too early, before the words even began to leave his mouth, and realized her mistake when she saw him flinch.

He recovered quickly, and said:

"Guess you knew I was gonna say something."

Selene just nodded; there was no reason to dwell on it.

"You know what, or? — "

"I'm still not reading your mind. I just felt an intent."

Edér nodded.

"Alright. Well, I just wanted to ask…"

There was a pang of hesitation in his mind; he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to his question.

Still, he continued:

"You must've read a lot of minds in Gilded Vale, by now."

"Not as many as you might think," Selene said. "But some."

"See anything in there that could explain… that?" He gestured vaguely behind them, where the orange blaze was still visible in the distance. "Why they hate me that much?"

His voice stayed mostly steady as he asked, with the smallest crack at the end, but Selene could tell that he had to make an effort to keep it that way.

The pain in his mind was familiar in a way she did her best not to dwell on.

"What happened yesterday, it made sense," Edér said. "Wasn't a great morning for me, but at least I saw it coming. Been eighteen folks there before me, I'd be Nineteen. But burning…" His voice trailed off; he shook his head. "No one's been burned alive in Gilded Vale before, not as execution. What'd I do to be the first?"

Selene hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right way to word her answer.

"I don't think it was an act of hatred," she said finally.

Immediately, Edér's mind bristled with irritation, telling her that she chose wrong.

"Right, 'cause burning down a house is how you show neighborly love. The boarded up windows are a nice touch; really lets 'em know you care."

The pain behind her eyes flared up.

Selene took a deep breath.

That was on her. She couldn't respond with irritation in turn; they were both hurt and exhausted and coming off a near-death experience, and were about to spend the rest of the night in the same room.

Don't get angry at him. Don't get angry at yourself for messing it up. Just keep talking.

"If it was about hatred, they would have done this a long time ago," she said. "Maybe during the first purges, or after Swithin's hanging. But what's the point in mob violence when your target is standing with one foot on the gallows already?"

Edér grimaced briefly at the mention of Swithin's name, but didn't say anything; the sound of his thoughts didn't betray extreme discomfort at her knowing the story, just a sense of regret.

And then came her question, and finally there was something else in his mind except for seething emotion.

He considered her words.

"Maybe they thought I was gonna get away?"

Selene nodded.

"And why would they think that? Forget what we know; no one heard me tell you I know you're innocent. I made sure."

She kept her voice low as she said that. They were walking through an emptier part of the village, and, while Selene didn't sense any immediate attention, the quiet meant that their voices would carry further.

Suddenly, Edér stopped in his tracks. Selene stopped too, and watched his expression shift as he put the pieces together.

"…'Cause they also know I didn't do it," he said. "And they need me gone."

For a second, his mind was still hovering between doubt and certainty, and then the decision was made; Selene could almost see the scales tip.

Edér's hands balled into fists at his sides; when he spoke again, his voice was low with anger, not unlike what she'd heard in Pasca's memory when he talked about Raedulf.

"They were covering it up. That pigshit burned my parents' house down to cover up his crime."

He was referring to Raedric. It seemed that he had made up his mind about who was responsible for Ygrid's death, which was fine; being objective about the case and the available evidence was Selene's job, not his.

"If that's the case, he made a mistake," Selene said.

"That he did," Edér agreed grimly. "Think I've got some words for our esteemed lord, when I see him next."

"You'll have to keep it to just words, unfortunately," she said, aware of the violent intent stirring in his mind. "Any more than that, and I'd have to take you in along with him."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You could look the other way? Blink real slow?"

She shook her head.

For a moment, it seemed as though Edér was about to say something else, but then he just sighed and nodded, resigned.

"Alright," he said. "But we're gonna get him."

"We will," Selene said. "Do you want to know what the killer's real mistake was?"

"Not finishing the job?"

"Revealing their hand. Wanting you gone so badly means that as long as you're alive — " Selene pointed at him — "there's a threat to them. There's something you know, or something you are, that can lead us to answers."

"Well, that's something," Edér said, uncertain. "Wish we knew what that was."

Then, he frowned:

"Hey, you okay? You look... kinda shaky."

He was referring to her hand; for as simple a gesture as it was, pointing at him required a significant effort on Selene's part, and her entire arm trembled as she did it.

Gods damn it. She must have seriously overtaxed either Edér's body or her own while dealing with the fire; the kickback from borrowing someone else's strength was usually not that severe.

"I'll be fine once I rest," Selene said.

☾

By the time they got to the inn, Edér was the one carrying Selene's still-damp cloak because she'd dropped it on the way, her hands shaking too badly to maintain a proper grip. She couldn't grab a door handle either, and had to let him open all the doors.

She pushed down her frustration and the tiny tinge of dread at her own helplessness at a moment where they could very well still be in danger, and led the way to her room.

The Black Hound was quiet at this time of night. There were some restless minds awake, people peering out of windows at the fire in the distance, but the anxiety here was much lesser than near Edér's house: less people, more distance, less information about what exactly was happening.

No one was in the common room or in the hall upstairs, which was great.

Once they were in the room, Selene had Edér lock the door and check that the window was still latched shut, the same way as she left it. The room wasn't too cold and the glow of her own hair gave them more than enough light to see, which spared her from having to ask him to light the fire.

Only when the arrangements were more or less to her liking — and she was sure that she wasn't detecting any minds with ill intent in their immediate vicinity — did she allow herself to sit down on the bed, wrap her aching arms around herself, close her eyes and exhale, slowly and loudly.

Everything hurt: her eyes, her arms, her chest, the space between her ears. Edér's thoughts weren't as painful anymore, at least; the worst that was reaching her was vague concern, which paled in comparison to everything else.

Selene allowed herself the luxury of self-pity for a second, then took a deep breath and told Edér:

"Look in my bag on the desk. There should be potions, small vials of clear liquid. Get me one."

He nodded and went off to rummage in her things.

Selene hadn't brought a lot with her: a change of clothes, spare bullets, some snacks, basic hygiene supplies and her medicine. Anything beyond that she could either do without, or purchase on the spot.

The medicine was what Edér was looking for. It wasn't rare for a cipher to need some sort of medication to help with the more unpleasant side of their powers; some suffered mood swings, some had trouble focusing their attention or falling asleep, and some, like Selene, had to deal with pain and exhaustion.

She didn't like resorting to the medicine, which was the reason for it being packed away in her bag and not in one of her pockets or in a belt pouch, where it would tempt her at all times. Depending on the severity of her pain, the medicine would either take it away entirely or make it far more tolerable — but as a side effect, it would dull her cipher senses, too. In most circumstances, that was a bad bargain.

But right now, the pain was making thinking difficult, and Selene needed to think. She needed to make a new plan. To review evidence. To make sure Edér was alright.

"Found it."

He approached her with a vial of the clear potion. Selene nodded her thanks and attempted to take it from his hand, only to discover that effort was beyond her at the moment.

Edér ended up having to tip the vial into her mouth, just as she did with the healing potion after he'd burned himself. He noticed the similarity as well; setting the empty vial aside, he said:

"Well, guess we're even about nursing each other back to health now. Feel better yet?"

She was, in fact, starting to feel better; the medicine worked fast. First, the painful knot behind her eyes came unwound; then her upper body began to relax, her mind released from whatever self-destructive loop it was caught in.

Selene nodded.

"Thanks."

Edér stood silent for a long moment; at first she didn't understand why, and then he said:

"Black bones, I really am dumb, aren't I? All that, and I hadn't even thanked you for saving me. Again."

Selene looked up at him. With the sound of his thoughts muffled, it was impossible to tell what was happening in his mind, but he looked as tired as she felt. He'd wiped most of the soot off his face as they walked, but there were still black smears left, and his beard and hair looked several shades darker than they did during the day; his eyes were still bloodshot, irritated by smoke.

To be perfectly honest, she didn't mind the lack of thanks, but it was nice of him to say something.

"It's fine," she said. "I did what I had to. If anything, I wish I could have prevented it in the first place."

"Well, I wish Waidwen had stayed at home and kept growing vorlas." Edér shrugged, exhaustion clouding anything else that might have showed in his voice or expression; Selene wasn't sure what exactly he meant to convey. "I'm still here, and I could've not been, so, thank you."

He settled heavily on the opposite end of the bed; the frame creaked faintly as he sat down. He stared into the space in front of him for a moment, then buried his face in his hands with a weary sigh, elbows resting on his knees.

"I'm sorry about your house," Selene said.

"Thanks," came the answer, flat and muffled between his hands.

She leaned her back against the wall and stared at a corner of the ceiling, both unsettled and relieved by the rare blankness of her own mind.

It was strangely peaceful, sitting together in silence. Whether it was the lingering excitement of a successful rescue, the relief of both of them still being alive, or just a natural extension of her sympathy towards him, for a moment Selene felt a weird kinship with the man sitting next to her.

Her thoughts went back to the first glimpse she'd caught of his mind, back by the tree.

There was the cold, and the irritation, and the fear. The knowledge that he was innocent.

And flashes of a memory from years ago: a man and a woman, unarmed, struggling against two armed and armored guards in a small one-room house.

They had killed those guards.

They were defending a Hollowborn.

Edér had wondered aloud why Selene was so willing to involve herself in his fate, and she had no doubt he'd wondered even more in his thoughts. To him, there was no reason for anyone to ever want to help him.

But many would say that there was no reason to defend a soulless infant, and Edér did it anyway. Even if Selene couldn't admit to him that she knew that — and she couldn't, not while he was still a subject of Raedric's and her suspect — she kept this thought in the back of her mind.

Those with sympathy for the broken beyond repair were rarer and rarer in the Dyrwood nowadays, and, if Selene could save even one of them, she owed it to herself to try.

And she had to admit it: she liked Edér. He was a quicker thinker than she'd expected, brave enough to speak his mind, and resilient in the face of pressure that would have caused many others to snap.

She wanted to see him survive.

Selene thought again about the pain that felt familiar; the thought of his that she had caught and discarded immediately, fearing to hurt herself if she examined it closer. With her mind numbed by the medicine, she could allow herself to face it, for a time.

See anything there that could explain that? Why they hate me that much?

The betrayal of learning that your community wants you utterly and entirely gone, every trace of you. As if you had never existed.

It was a shame that Edér had to experience that, too.

Just as her thoughts started to spiral, going further down the path she usually kept closed, his voice pulled her back to reality:

"…There's something I'm wondering about. How'd you find me?"

Selene looked over. Edér was still sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, his face no longer in his hands; his expression was still weary, but more focused than it was before. He'd pulled himself together, for now.

"I was on the edge of town, checking the horse lead," she said. "Then I saw fire in the distance, and ran to see what was happening. Once I got close enough, I knew that it was your house, and could sense your mind inside. You know the rest."

Edér hummed in acknowledgement.

"Nice trick, that; talking inside my brain. Blocking my pain, too. I still don't get the thing with the cloak, though."

"I borrowed your strength. Convinced my own mind for a time that it was in your body, which is stronger and can do things I normally can't. Usually I'd explain before doing this, but…" Selene shrugged, and felt a pinch of relief when her body didn't protest at the motion. "There wasn't much time."

Edér's brows knitted together in a frown as he — probably thought about her explanation, but, again, she couldn't know for sure.

Now that the pain relief had fully set in, she was already missing her telepathy.

Eventually Edér nodded, to himself more than to her, but it seemed like there still was something on his mind.

Finally, he said:

"It's funny, you know; twice now you showed up just when I was sure I was about to see the Wheel. That kind of luck… Hel, it's almost enough to make me think maybe my god's not dead after all."

Once again, Selene couldn't tell the intent behind his words. Was he just sharing an insight? Asking her to reaffirm his faith? Something else?

Still, she had to respond somehow.

"…You think Eothas sent me?"

The corner of his mouth curled up into a mirthless smile.

"Don't think there's anyone left who can say for sure what Eothas did or didn't. But you, well, you're the closest thing to a miracle I've seen in a long time. Trying to figure out how I should feel about it."

Me and you both, Selene thought.

All she could say for sure was that Edér wasn't mocking her when he said that, and that his uncertainty seemed genuine.

"Well, if a god did send me, it would have to be Ondra," she said after a few seconds of silence. "And I don't think she'd do that."

"'Cause you think she doesn't like you being in Dunryd Row."

"No. Because I used to serve her, and then turned away from my duties."

The words left her mouth before she could think better of it.

Selene wasn't sure what she was doing. Sure, she felt some sympathy for Edér, but this — she didn't talk about this. She just didn't. Even without the headache that would usually accompany those memories, just a vague mention was enough to conjure a sinking feeling in her stomach.

But it was too late to question herself, because she did say it.

Maybe it was the medicine clouding up her thoughts, but, for some reason, some part of her felt like he'd understand.

Edér was watching her intently; it felt that way, at least.

"What happened?" he asked.

The sinking feeling got worse. For a second, she could almost taste briny water in her mouth again, but taking a deep breath was enough to make that disappear.

"I was unhappy," Selene said. "I got tired of drowning everyone else's sorrows. When I said that I was going to leave the temple, some people tried to stop me by force. I still left, but it wasn't pretty."

That was an understatement, but the full details didn't really matter.

"Ondra never spoke to me," she said. "Not when I was devout; not when I began to question; not when I was getting sick from doing something I didn't believe in anymore. Every single person I knew was certain that I was chosen, but I don't think she ever cared about anything that happened to me."

After a moment of hesitation, she added:

"I want to believe that Eothas is different. Maybe all of them are; maybe Ondra is kind and caring, just not to me. I don't know. I just know that if anyone comes to me looking for the gods' wisdom, I can only disappoint."

She hoped she'd be able to leave Edér with some hope for his own faith while also letting him know that he wouldn't find any answers with her.

She had no way of telling if it worked; his expression stayed attentive and guarded, and she couldn't tell whether there was acceptance or disappointment on the other end.

"Well, that's honest at least," Edér said. "I appreciate that."

And then:

"Wasn't right what those folks did, trying to get you to stay. Thing with faith is, you can't force it on people any more than you can force it out of 'em."

For reasons Selene didn't fully understand, breathing became difficult for a moment.

She nodded, hoping that would suffice as a response, and, seemingly, it did. Edér's eyes crinkled as he gave her a brief smile; this time, there was no bitterness in it.

She was right. He did understand; the part of it that she could bear to share, at the very least.

Maybe saying it was a good idea after all. It wasn't exactly relevant to the case, but, still, the two of them were in this together; a small show of trust could only serve to make their cooperation easier.

The strange tightness had disappeared from her throat at this point, so Selene spoke up:

"We should rest; there's still time until dawn. Take the bed, I'm fine sleeping on the floor."

Edér shook his head.

"Make it the other way 'round," he said. "No disrespect, agent, but I'm not letting a lady sleep on the floor."

Despite herself, Selene chuckled.

"That would have been very polite of you, had you not almost burned your face off less than an hour ago," she said. "You're more hurt than me, and you need a good rest for the healing to fully set in. Besides, I'm going to stay awake for a little longer, go over my notes."

From his expression, it seemed that Edér wasn't fully convinced, but he didn't keep arguing.

"Alright. Wake me if you change your mind, or if there's trouble."

"I will," Selene promised, and stood up.

As she did, Edér regarded his own filthy, charred clothes for a moment, and then said:

"…Yeah, Pasca'll kill me if I let that touch her linens. Think I'm gonna have to take those off; don't know what your sensibilities are, but you might wanna shield your eyes for a second."

She nodded:

"I'll give you privacy."

Selene sat down at the small desk on the other side of the room — conveniently positioned so that her back was turned to the bed — and took out her journal again.

Hearing shuffling noises behind her as her co-investigator and official suspect presumably stripped down and got into bed, she briefly reviewed her earlier notes: the notes she took at the crime scene, a recollection of her conversation with Pasca, and some inconclusive notes about the notable lack of recent hoofprints and horse excrement on the outskirts of Gilded Vale, as well as a lack of eyewitness accounts of a woman riding into town. There was also a proper case summary now, written just after her conversation with the innkeeper, and a single, mostly empty page dedicated to her investigation of Hattorn's fate.

"'Right, I'm decent, kinda," Edér's voice sounded behind her back. "I'll have to get new clothes from somewhere tomorrow, else this investigation's gonna get real awkward."

"Good point."

On a new page, Selene started making a list. First item:

Get Edér a change of clothes

"Know who can help with that?" she asked.

"I'd ask Pasca."

"Alright." Selene noted it down.

She mulled the next point over in her mind for a moment, before putting down:

Move into a room for two

It wasn't ideal — her pretense of still suspecting Edér would definitely suffer — but after tonight, she couldn't see a way to keep him safe outside of her presence.

What else?

Search the remains of the house

That was just practical. If any of Edér's things happened to survive the fire, he should have them.

There was maybe one other thing she could think of regarding the consequences of the house fire.

"Edér, is there a healer in town?"

"Not anymore," he said. "Left a couple years ago, once Raedric got too crazy for her tastes. No one was brave enough to take up after her. When someone gets real bad, folks trek out to Anslög's Compass to see her."

No active temple, no healer: Gilded Vale wasn't too kind to the sick and injured.

"Alright then."

She'd have liked to have Edér checked for lasting damage — a single healing potion should have fixed most of it, but the effects of those often varied — but it seemed like that wouldn't be easily possible. She'd just have to trust that the potion sufficed, and keep an eye out for symptoms that said otherwise.

For now, this seemed like a good plan.

"You should try to sleep," Selene told him. "Let me know if my hair is too bright."

It's been a complaint in the past, when she had to share rooms with others: not in the temple — she's always had a room of her own there — but later in Hadret House, when she was in training. She'd learned to cover her hair and horns to let her roommates sleep.

"Nah, I'm fine. Goodnight."

With that, there was a shifting noise — probably Edér turning away — and he fell silent.

Left to her work, Selene started writing a record of the house fire by the light of her hair. Once that was done, she did her best to extract points of interest from her own story, and listed them in a small neat column next to the broader account:

Multiple perpetrators

Windows were boarded up, fuel and kindling was used — time and preparation, premeditated

Likely multiple eyewitnesses, but no alarm was raised. Might be able to extract perpetrators' identity from witness memories

Working version: meant as a cover-up, not mob violence. Whose orders?

About midway through that list, the familiar all-encompassing noise of active minds started trickling back into her awareness, bringing an aray of distractions, but also palpable relief: it was good to have her most important sense back.

With it came the hum of restless thoughts from where Edér was supposed to be sleeping, betraying the fact that he was wide awake.

Reasoning that the way he spent his resting time was none of her business, Selene ignored the noise and moved on with her work. Still, she couldn't help but be aware of it: a buzz of anxiety just loud enough to be heard.

There was a feeling underlying it that wasn't quite pain, but something similar to dragging your hand through gravel; a sharpness that wouldn't let his thoughts rest.

Following an instinct, Selene closed her eyes for a moment and saw flashes of something: a grey, cold night from long ago, soldiers bundled up in their cloaks, resting their heads on their packs, trying to fall asleep. There had been word of Readcerans nearby.

The grip of a sabre in her — his — hand, the awareness of his shield within reach, not knowing whether it would do him any good if an ambush sprang on them while he was still asleep.

Selene opened her eyes, resurfacing, and exhaled slowly; she had held her breath during the vision.

She didn't mean to dive in; if she did, she'd be breaching her promise. But the thought seemed to find her, rather than the other way around; did that still count?

Either way, she now had an idea of what was keeping Edér awake.

A lingering echo of his thoughts told her that it wasn't a rare occurrence, and that normally he'd reach for his pipe and whiteleaf to lull his mind back into behaving.

It wouldn't be good for him to spend the rest of the night without rest. The healing would take better after some sleep, and, considering the circumstances, Selene needed him to be sharp tomorrow.

"Edér," she said quietly. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah." A shifting sound as he turned to face her. "Need something?"

Selene turned to him as well and found him sitting up, looking at her.

The cold white light of her hair picked out scars across his upper body. There were many, which made sense for a soldier: thin lines and jagged shapes, faded, but still visible. Something made her linger on that for a moment, wondering how many of those scars already existed by the time the night from the vision came around, and how many were acquired after.

Selene pushed the thought out of her mind. It didn't really matter; her thinking was probably just being affected by the memory she'd picked up.

She focused. She needed to tell Edér something.

"Since you're awake, I just wanted to say. Whoever set the fire will probably try again; from here on out, we'll only be getting closer to answers, and they'll only get more desperate to stop us. I'll be surprised if that's the last attempt we see on one of our lives. Yours more likely than mine, since Dunryd Row will have questions if I don't return."

Even before she finished speaking, she could feel Edér's anxiety stir — and yet outwardly, his expression had barely changed.

That was why she needed her telepathy.

"Should've said so sooner," he said. "Nothing lulls a guy to sleep like a promise of murder."

"Well, they will try. But they won't succeed, and they won't get as far as they have today, either. I'm not leaving you alone anymore, and when it happens, I'll be ready."

Edér raised an eyebrow:

"You'll be watching over me, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Selene said simply. "The harder they'll try to get rid of you, the harder I'll fight to keep you around."

Remembering their earlier conversation, she added:

"Not because any god told me to, but because it's the right thing to do. In fact, if a god spoke to me right now and told me not to, I'd do it anyway."

There was the tiniest thrill of dread in her stomach as she spoke the second sentence. She'd blasphemed many times in the past — against Ondra, and against other gods on occasion — and, as freeing as it felt, the very next emotion she felt was always the fear of retribution.

Still, Selene meant what she said. And no retribution came this time either, just like all the times before it; more proof that the gods probably couldn't care less.

Edér stared at her for a long moment; so long that her attention began to drift away, and had to be wrangled back into focus. She was probably getting tired too.

"You really mean it, don't you," he said. "You'd really do it."

Selene nodded.

In the light of her hair, she saw the corner of Edér's mouth twitch, and then he ran a hand over his face and shook his head, silent.

"Well," he said finally, "Guess the least I can do is pay it back. Whatever you need for this case, you can count on me to help. And I know you've got your cipher stuff and all kinds of training, but, for what it's worth, I'll be looking out for you too."

He was sincere, and Selene thought that it was only fair to respond with sincerity in turn.

"I need it more than you know," she said.

Edér nodded, a serious look on his face; the sound of his thoughts told her that he had noted her words.

She could feel things shifting in his mind, folding into patterns.

The gravelly feeling was gone. He'd sleep fine now; even if Edér himself couldn't tell yet, she could.

Selene tried to speak, and found herself yawning instead; just as well — her body was making the point with her.

Edér gave her a look.

"You still working on your agent stuff?"

"I'm just about done."

"Good. You'd better catch some sleep too."

It didn't take her long to figure out her bedding situation; the carpet in the room was thick and reasonably comfortable to lie down on, and Edér insisted she take the pillow from the bed, at least. Normally, her cloak would have made a great blanket, but it was still miserably damp, hanging from a hook on the wall; Selene had to make do with some of her spare clothes instead.

By the time she'd fully settled down, she could already hear Edér's thoughts slowing. He'd be asleep before she was.

Selene closed her eyes, and hoped that there was a decent amount of time left until dawn.