#(Yeah I added a background after posting pft)

[elizakai]

have speed painting of a galaxy noot

(This took like ten mins💀)

Nightmare belongs to jokublog

Edit: background?? Don’t know if I like it or not so take both :^

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

New Fanfic!

Based on the Ladybug Puppet Show premise, which people seemed to love (Seriously? More than a thousand note o: I’m flattered and a bit scared)

As always, be warned that my writing style is more comedic(and slightly nonsensical) than anything, but I try! (But seriously, don’t expect fluff or angst with this... at least not good ones... or ones on purpose. )

How to Succeed Thanks To Spite. 1

“So, how it was?”

Alya gave a start at Adrien appearing out of nowhere when she closed her locker. So Marinette was right after all and Adrien was sneaky as a cat and not just her obliviousness. Oh, well, she will apologize later.

It had been a week after the whole Animaestro thing and the Ladybug Movie had been officially released and of course Alya had gone to the premiere with Nino, as both Adrien and Marinette had refused. At first she thought it was because neither wanted to be a third wheel, even thought Alya’s original intentions were for it to be a double date or because they had already seen it and as it was so awesome, they would be unable to contain the spoilers… oh boy, was she wrong.

The movie had been an awful mess. Ladybug and Chat Noir were unlikable to the point most people in the theater were cheering for Hawk Moth. Alya understood that things like Kwamis were technically a secret to the general public, and obviously they wouldn’t be able to show their identities, but still, the movie has lots of issues of continuity, bad edition, characters would go back and forth on their development, Ladybug acted like a happy-go-lucky girly girl who always needed saving, and Chat Noir attitude made Batman seem like… well, the real Chat Noir. None of his flirty, likeable self was portrayed there, instead he was a creepy stalker for Ladybug, and needed a kiss from her to be able to take off his miraculous, which was deemed a “curse”.

Alya had to force herself to finish the movie, and after it she had gone to her parents for legal advice, as Lady Wifi, the Bubbler and a lot of other Akumas had appeared, and they didn’t even asked for their permission for that. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the city had determined that the akumas weren’t legally the same person as the victims, so they wouldn’t face consequences for their actions. Alya was furious, as they had also whitewashed her, and portrayed as a stereotypical valley girl who couldn’t survive without her phone.

“Alya?”

The sunshine boy called her attention. Alya suddenly remembered that he had voiced Chat Noir, but the movie had sounded nothing like him.

“Yes?”

“The movie. What do you think?”

“Adrien, sweetie, you’re one of my best friends, and I would never lie to you” Adrien beamed. “But I’m gonna flee so I don’t have to answer that question.” And she was gone.

Adrien stood there several seconds, confused. He could hear Plagg snickering inside him. The fact that Plagg had to phase inside him had always grossed him out, but now he was more worried about Alya’s opinion on the movie.

He sadly limped to the classroom, were Alya was already talking with Marinette and Nino.

“You can say it, it sucked”

“But Adrien was so proud of having voiced Chat Noir!”

“Yeah… I watched it in the special V.I.P. premiere, remember? That Guy gave me his ticket. Adrien was very disappointed they altered his voice… and the whole character of Chat Noir”

“You should have warned us” protested Nino

“Yeah, I thought my opinions on the movie might be biased… for reasons, and wanted you guys to experience it yourselves.”

“Liar, you wanted us to suffer like you had.”

“Well yeah, but what’s the point of being Best Friends if we don’t share some suffering every now and then”

“Point”

“It was a bad movie. So bad it was horrible. And I liked Street Fighter” said Adrien letting himself flop into his seat next to Nino.

“Don’t you dare to compare the magnificently ridiculous masterpiece that was Street Fighter to… whatever the heck that was ever again, Agreste” said Nino in a playfully menacing tone. “Raul Julia deserves better”

“Agreedste” replied Adrien. “But seriously, that movie was painful to watch. I can’t believe my debut on movies was… that… and That Guy is passive-aggressive blaming my inexperience as a voice actor for people not liking his ‘vision’ of that Batman slash Wolverine rip-off. I didn’t even get a script, just a bunch of random lines, and when asked what kind of emotion I should give to each, he was very vague about it… I don’t think Clara or anyone else fared better.”

“I know! I thought the line in the trailer about Ladybug being afraid of cats was bad, but her actually being scared of Chat… wow” Alya let herself dramatically fall on her desk; face first, after carefully taking her glasses off. “And the worst thing is that I mentioned going to see the movie on the Ladyblog, and now people want me to do a review.”Alya gesticulated with her hands, her head firmly planted on her desk. “How can I say in the nicest way possible ‘This movie is a stinking pile of…’?”

“Lila, Hi!” greeted Nino to the newcomer, who had just entered the classroom. Marinette openly scowled at her sight. If anyone asked, she was going to say she was thinking about the movie.

“Hi guys! What are you doing?”

“Talking about the Ladybug movie” said Alya, still her head on the desk.

“Oh, have you seen it? It was awesome, wasn’t it? I was a consultant for it.”

“WHAT” Alya practically jumped up, startling Marinette and the others. Lila had a smug smile on her face, unaware of the true opinions of her ‘friends’, especially when other people had noticed Alya yelling and were now approaching them and making her the center of attention.

“Yeah, I practically wrote the whole thing. They begged me to help them, since Ladybug and I are B.F.F.s”

“You… helped with the movie.”

“Of course. It’s not the first movie I have worked on, but they always refuse to give me credits just because I’m a minor”

“You… helped with the movie” Repeated Alya.

“Yeah. They begged me.”

“Because you’re BFFs with Ladybug”

“Yeah! Ladybug herself introduced me to them”

“And you would know everything about her.”

“Of course, we are very close”

“And of course you would make the movie as accurate as possible”

“Well, duh. Only the best for my bestie”

Alya and Nino looked at each other, as did Marinette and Adrien. Marinette was using all her willpower to not burst laughing at Lila digging her own grave.

Alya, Nino and several of the background characters they called classmates and friends seemed to be rebooting with the new information. Lila was Ladybug’s best friend, and had helped make the movie. But the movie had been horrible and inaccurate, and horribly inaccurate, even on the simplest of details, like Ladybug’s hair length, their heights, and their whole personalities. Either Lila was a really bad friend, she didn’t know squat about Ladybug… or she hadn’t helped at the movie at all. Either she was lying or was an horrible friend.

“Funny, I don’t remember seeing you at the V.I.P. party. And even Dupain-Cheng was there”

“Oh Chloe, I’m sorry I couldn’t attend, but I had a charity event scheduled the same day, and charity is more important going to the movies.”

“Oh, Lila is so nice” added Rose, with Lila smiling at their gullibility. “What was the event?”

“It was… adopting homeless dogs and cats! Yeah. Puppies too.”

“Uh? Mylene and I volunteer at the Animal Sanctuary and have never seen you there” added Ivan.

“Not the Animal Sanctuary, another association”

“The Animal Sanctuary was the only one association doing an adoption drive that day. We always check with other associations to cooperate and not overlap.”

The others were sincerely impressed that Mylene and Ivan were volunteers.

“Well, I don’t like to brag but…”

“Pft! All you do is brag! Even more than me, and that’s saying something”

Lila’s smile faltered. She turned around and started sobbing. “All right, all right, I wasn’t at that event. The truth is… it’s embarrassing… I was… getting my appendix removed.”

“… But you were here the next day”

“… I heal fast”

Before they could continue with their talk, Miss Bustier entered the classroom, and asked everyone to take their seats.

“Marinette?” asked Alya, almost inaudible. Marinette turned her head to her friend.

“Yes?”

“I’m very sorry for ever doubting you”

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

And that’s all for now!

I have no idea how many chapters this will have, or if it will ever end. , just the outline that was already done in the other post. I’m gonna tag this with “#Ladybug Puppet Show”... I also tagged the episode “Animaestro” since this one is sort of a continuation of it. 

And I’m aware this is also a bit... a lot salty, but heh, such is life. Enjoy!

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 2)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Special Agent Gavin Reed, Director Thomas Falken (mentions of Hannah, Emilya, President-Elect Kamski, Connor, Zach) Word Count: 6,578

Noah crashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn’t seen or spoken to in a couple of months, but the mood is spoiled when the Zionist Inquisition shows up to deliver an ultimatum to Vincent Sharp, and issue a threat to anyone who would dare support the installation of an android suburb in Washington, DC.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15​)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 10:07 PM

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but then again, if had known Noah was in town, he would have expected him to pull a stunt like this. It never had been his style to keep his nose out of his business, even if it was work-related. Especially if it was work-related.

“You should have known better than to tell that peacock to stay away from the perfect opportunity to crow,” Gabe retorted with an audible groan as he reached for the drink and stared into the glass. By now he knew him well enough to know that telling Noah Maitkin not to do something was a surefire way to guarantee he would do exactly what he didn’t want him to; unfortunately, that knowledge had not yet transferred to his handler. It had been different when he had the structure of Archangel to keep his bratty impulses in check, but after Boston and the outbreak, he was so rattled to the core that the thought to cut corners almost never occurred to him anymore. So the fact that he was here, now, in spite of that, meant one of two things- Either he was feeling like his old self again, free of any legal constraints his former occupation once imposed, or this was yet another sign the RK900 needed a shitton more therapy and conditioning to be considered stable again. Just what good did he think charity-crashing would do?

Falken’s rage seethed in the background as he and Gavin continued their back and forth. All it took was his tone for Gabriel to picture with perfect clarity, the piercing, emerald-eyed scowl set in deep sockets, shadowed by his strong brow. It wasn’t a look anyone wanted to find themselves on the other end of, especially not if ‘Tomahawk’ was looking for a good fight, which was the intent of being present that evening. He had wanted to be there in case something went awry so he could take care of it himself. Any reason to fight got him excited- you could take the kid out of Boston, but Boston’s fury came with him. Reed groaned in defense as the conversation wound down. “He must’ve snagged the address from my laptop when I wasn’t lookin’ when he stopped by. FUCKIN’ Androids…” “Yeah, well- great job on keepin’ this shit on the down-low,” he mocked, “Keep me updated on his position. Serrano is making his approach-” “Uh, yeah, about that...” Before Reed could get the warning out, trouble had sat itself in the vacant space beside Gabe to lean down and knock an elbow against his arm.

Hey there. Not gonna toss me like a rag doll this time, are you?

Gabe wrestled with every ounce of self-restraint available to not roll his eyes but failed miserably. It was definitely him, the glitter in his hair and the coy little smirk playing at his lips were the deadest of giveaways; but, as tired as it made him feel to look at, Noah seemed a far cry better off than the last time they’d spoken on the phone, just after he’d been let go from Archangel. Being noticeably sober helped tremendously, too. “What are you doing ‘ere, mon chéri?” Gabe scoffed in a perfectly practiced accent as he lifted the glass to his lips. “Pft. What does it look like, monsieur?” The mocking inflection pinned at the end seemed as genuinely annoyed as it didn’t; it was unclear if it was Noah speaking or his assumed identity, it had been a long three months since they had last seen each other. Noah waited all of three more seconds for an answer before he leaned in again, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, uncomfortably close, as he always tended to get. The smirk didn’t abate. “I’ve counted all of one old friend of yours in this room, and you can’t even greet me…? The least you could do is say hello.”

Get. Him. OUT OF HERE. Falken didn’t hesitate to let him know where he stood on Noah’s interference in the matter, but Gabriel brushed off the disgruntled agent’s protests with a scoff. He’d handle Noah himself, but first, he had a few questions.

I mean, why are you in DC? he tried again as he slipped deep brown eyes aside to peer over the tops of his glasses at him. “Are you ‘ere to make a donation? Or did you just come to’ave a drink with moi?” The French-Canadian accent didn’t waver- Gabriel’s alias was a complete overhaul, head to toe to voice, all of which made Noah giddy as a schoolgirl. To his credit, he kept his own mask under control. “Oh, honestly, you can stop playing coy any time now, Vinnie... it wasn’t like I added myself to the guest list.” Whatever surprise he must have felt, Noah covered it by drawing back to playfully bat at his arm again. “Trust me, your doormen were just as surprised to see me as I was to get the invite.” The tip of his tongue passed subconsciously over the point of his canine tooth as his gaze lingered on the peculiar choice in corsage instead of the undercover agent’s face. If he didn’t know any better, the tuft of Mistletoe was as good as a dare, but the pause he took to appreciate it would have to suffice for acceptance. With a small sigh, he popped both brows and resettled his gaze. “Drinks, donations, I’ll get to it when I get to it. You know better than to rush me.” Privately, he sounded much less cavalier: Is the ‘why’ really important? It really wasn’t, as much as the answer to why he was there, but the answer to both worried Gabe in equal measure. Why aren’t you with Hannah?

Put on the spot about his markedly-better half, the playfulness deflated. It was no secret Noah hadn’t been at his significant other’s side throughout the majority of the campaign (too caught up with his own investigations until two months prior, when he’d been fired from Archangel for his behavior at a press conference following the Red Raids), and the speculation as to why ran rampant. Now, given the way his jaw went tight and the smirk became a bit strained, it was fair to say tonight wasn’t all champagne and canoodling behind the political scene. Instead, here he was. Yvonne leaned in again and blatantly tried to shrug it off, propped one elbow up, and bumped a knee against Gabe’s beneath the countertop, face tilted to one side to peer upward through the tops of his eyes. Uh, because she’s booked, as you can imagine. Working on post-election nonsense with the President-Elect- meet-and-greets, what else? Anyway, I’m here now and I want to help. Which was essentially code for ‘this affair sounded infinitely more exciting, so behold- myself’. “There’ll be time for commiserating later.”

NO, don’t let him stick around- Falken is chomping at the bit to get out there and pull him out himself. If he has to do that, it won’t be pretty.

“En fait,” Vincent replied with a far-off look in his eye that was actually directed over his companion’s shoulder at his slowly approaching target; luckily, Serrano had stopped to converse with another familiar face for the moment, so Gabe shifted focus back to the man at his side. You haven’t been briefed and you’re not prepared, he scolded in a neutral tone, more factual than condescending, in an attempt to dissuade him from staying. This man has been investigating me for two months, and tonight is my chance to find out if he’s connected to the Zionist Inquisition. Anything you say or do could trace you back to my real identity, and that would destroy all the work we’ve put in on this case. Do you have a cover story…? A well-established alias…? The smirk dropped, as did another degree of humor in Noah’s eyes. Maybe he realized the gravity of the situation, or maybe he wasn’t as into playing the incessant flirt as he used to be. Either way, the seriousness amped up to compensate. Please. You think it’s the first time I’ve had to fake it to the inth degree to get close to someone? Just ask Miles next time you’re in Miami. Noah paid a brief glance over his shoulder before offering one hand with the skin peeled back. “Bygones be bygones? I can keep my joy at seeing you again limited to a handshake if that’s more your speed.” Not to mention it would make trading read-only files regarding each other’s disguises a cinch. Gabriel exhaled through his nose, closed his eyes, and reached out one of his gloved hands to set over the top of his. “C’est… d’accord,” he assured, his accent softer than before. “I just did not expect to see you tonight.” Fingers curled softly around Noah’s as he flattened his palm against the countertop- beneath the fabric, the skin on his hand peeled away to initiate the exchange of dossiers, but a quick glance told him he was donning a well-loved persona, one he was already quite familiar with from old Archangel files. “South Miami is a long way from DC, monsieur Yvonne.”

The protesting from the other end of the connection simmered down as the story came together. From the sound of it, Gavin had already realized what he knew.

‘Yvonne’ smirked again. If it wasn’t a wide, mischievous leer before, it was now. He read through the false identity of Vincent Sharp in a second and apparently liked what he saw. “Not necessarily. You only wish it were true, right? Far enough to think making an in-person contribution would be too big a request...? But my dear- it’s Christmas, and when was the last time I had the opportunity to see you?” You skipped the part about making ‘Vincent’ seem like a person, he chided with an unspoken ‘tsk’. Where’s the subsection titled ‘love life’? Gabriel narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, looking more skeptical than scowly like he’d intended. They didn’t think it necessary for someone so focused on business to be in a committed relationship, he quipped back as he forced a curling grin. “You would choose ze holidays as an excuse to venture north… and a cocktail party to try and reconnect.” Gabe’s focus darted down as Noah’s fingers spread to thread with his. It seemed he already had plans for what to make of their shared history, and he wasn’t sure he approved. The nonverbal suggestions he was sending made him uncomfortable. Vincent drew in a nervous breath and tilted his head with a soft shake, but Yvonne persisted. “Please… like I’m the first man in history to ever stoop to that tactic,” he drawled, not sounding abashed at all, and gave his hand a squeeze as he lifted and planted a soft kiss on the man’s curled-over knuckles. “You make it sound like a crime.” All puns intended, for the record.

He could hear Falken’s dissatisfied bitching in the background of Gavin’s warning. He’s dressing, you’ve got about ten minutes before he storms in there like goddamn Hurricane Tommy and forcibly removes him. A timer helpfully projected itself over the upper left corner of his HUD, counting backward from ten. Just… just give me a minute. Hold him off for as long as you can. I’m tryin’.

‘Vincent’ swallowed hard and turned his eyes down in shame as he switched back to his conversation with Noah. This is your idea for our shared history…? Why not…? You don’t think you could hack it? Noah’s brow furrowed and the smile faded to better sell the lie, though there was a thin layer of truth to the question as well. “...are you still embarrassed to be seen with me?” Vincent’s lack of response, and eye contact, told him everything he needed to know. Palpable irritation announced itself in the form of pursed lips and a tightened grip. Yvonne met it with a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, come now- you’re practically funding the founding of Zion, DC yourself... you can’t tell me that isn’t because you’ve had a change of heart on the matter of-...” For a moment he hesitated. Noah’s chin quivered noticeably before he added, “... didn’t you miss me even a little?” An equally-heavy sigh escaped his companion in response, and he glanced out of the corners of his lenses to stare at their hands. It was no coincidence that particular bit of improvised backstory, he drew from reality. The intent, even with roles flip-flopped, wasn’t altogether different. Now Gabriel was the respected investigator and Noah was the pariah no one wanted around. Since the Raids, any contact between them had been sparing at best, and when it had happened the mood was never totally reciprocated by either party. Being the same model didn’t necessarily mean their opinions were destined to line up perfectly, if anything, in their experience, agreeing on anything had been a lot of hit or miss, much in the same way Connor and Zach had butted heads over casework. And if he was keeping score correctly, Noah would have to admit most of the misses were his doing. But who was he if he wasn’t complicated? Prone to dramatics under the right conditions? Enigmatic beyond what he was cognizant of? The same could be said for Gabriel. He was simply better at hiding it. Like now. I’ll lay off the innuendos here, I promise. I just- I want to help. I know my timing is atrocious, but if there’s anything, any advantage to be had, I have to play with what I know how to do best. And whatever that may be, you know it’s not the worst thing you’ll have ever suffered. Is it?

Brown eyes gazed back at him, caught between conflict and concern. He wasn’t wrong- sometimes selling a story was more about grounding yourself in the part of it you could relate to, and Noah sure could flirt up a storm when he was in the mood. As much as he hated the way the nature of said attention made him feel, it wasn’t as hard to deal with as it once was, and if he was offering to- Gabe stopped mid-thought to back up on the realization as it finally hit him. He’d known it long ago, once upon a time, when the mere thought of being on amicable terms with the man-made his skin projection crawl. But in that moment, little more than a year later, it didn’t bother him the way it used to. What you know best…? A sudden prickle of gently insisting input flowed between them as he asked the question, and he waited, transfixed for an answer that didn’t come. The normally-animated face of his counterpart had gone absolutely still- no flexing eyebrows or narrowing of the eyes or tensing of the jaw. Without micro-expressions somehow undermining the sincerity of his words he actually managed to impress as stoic. The ‘incessant peacock’ wasn’t what he used to be, in more ways than one, and it took seeing him in person to really be reminded of it. ‘Vincent’s brows pressed together harder, the longer the silence persisted between them. Does that mean you…? “Ahem.”

Gabriel blinked out of his daze to refocus his attention on the owner of the new voice before realizing that Serrano had been standing behind him for at least a full minute already. But it didn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. “Am I… interrupting, Mr. Sharp? Should I come back later?” Vincent stuttered. Of all the ways he could have responded, a true, blue, genuine stutter wasn’t on the list of expectations, but there it was. “N-non-! No, excuse, monsieur, I- I apologize, but I must-“ Noah took the hint and let go of his hand as Gabe pulled away at last to grasp the drink that had been waiting patiently for him to return to it. The ice cube clanked quietly against the walls of the glass as his arm trembled. “We can… continue zis conversation later?” Instead of finding an excuse to bail out of the situation, Noah shifted focus to the loitering newcomer with one eyebrow angled up in a picture-perfect attempt at inquisitiveness. “Later? But we’ve only just begun,” he whined in protest, though when it failed to move anyone to react more than with stunned silence, he sighed, reached for the man’s hand and clapped it between both of his. “By which I mean, don’t let me get in your way, Mr…” “Serrano.” “Mr. Serrano- I’m sorry for waylaying Mr. Sharp from attending to you or his other guests. I only meant to take a minute of his time, but-”

WHAT IS HE DOING!? Stop him…!

Noah paused, mid-exposition to glance aside at Gabriel’s nervous expression. “Well, relatively, maybe I should have taken five… one could have done the job, but would it have been enough? Was that not Einstein’s whole ramble on relativity?” The older gentleman smiled as he shook his hand and shifted a leery glance to Mr. Sharp, who stood leaning against the bar, cold-clocked by this sudden turn of events. “Not to worry, my boy- Mr. Sharp has already been the focus of many people’s attention this evening… but I will say… you, by far, have incited the most interesting reaction out of him.” Gabe rolled a grumble to clear his throat, turned and interjected himself into the conversation before he could make any assumptions. “Monsieur Yvonne is a… friend, of mine. We met in Miami when I was on a business trip three years ago.” “Physically met, yes, but I’ll not split hairs too finely on that subject.” You just did, he grumbled in response over their frequency as he took a deep sip of the drink in his grasp. Noah let go of Serrano’s hand at the brazen remark and smothered the urge to sigh out loud. That’s the most basic division of the topic there is. I didn’t say I would keep going. The cover could do without launching into immediately redefining deviancy and when it set in for him. By now it was typically seen, for an android, to be as droll as talking about the weather. “We’ll have time enough to catch up properly once you’ve made your rounds again. The event isn’t going to run itself.” “Oui.” One hand lifted and softly set on Gabe’s shoulder as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on his presently bearded cheek, careful not to linger so long as to make their guest feel uncomfortable. But as he pulled away, the man’s face turned to longingly chase his retreat, and eyes dared to follow after a short pause. Whether his desire for the prolonged moment was genuine or part of the act, it suited their growing cover story, and gave Noah a reason to smile. Serrano, knowing or not, offered the reassurance their aliases needed. “I promise I won’t keep him for too long so you can get back to your conversation.”

“On the contrary. Take all the time you need. I need to contemplate a few sums anyway.” As you were, Gabriel. Just pretend I’m not here if it helps. Cough twice if you need to tap out. I can always serve a good mislead in a pinch. Noah traced the curvature of his arm as his hand slid off of Gabe’s shoulder, down his elbow and forearm, then plucked the mostly-finished glass of ‘scotch’ out of his slack fingers, much to the dumbstruck look on his face, and raised an eyebrow at the depleted contents. “If you would, please, love,” he gestured to the woman behind the counter as he propped an elbow on the mahogany to hold the empty glass up to the loitering, wide-eyed barkeep. “No sense dirtying another one on my account.” Whatever odd reactions the move earned him, Yvonne had no compunctions about sharing, and he wasn’t going anywhere without a refreshment for the trouble. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Gabriel was blushing for real.

The poor brute barely had time to pick his jaw up off the floor before he had to shift gears again and prepare for an entirely different sort of conversation… or so he thought. “An Android lover, Mr. Sharp…? Now that is unexpected… and a man, no less- no wonder you arrived unescorted this evening.”

Gavin’s snickering on the other end of the two-way mic would have thrown him into a rage any other day. Oh- Emilya’s going to love this… Gavin- not the time.

Already Serrano’s approach was much more cavalier than in any of their past encounters. It seemed the glimpse into the personal life of his alias had been enough to either convince him that he was a trustworthy, three-dimensional person, or he felt that this was dirt enough to use as blackmail material should he one day need it. Either way, it had relaxed him, perhaps the intrusion hadn’t been a complete disaster after all.

Keep playing that angle, Gavin coaxed in his ear. If it keeps him talking, circle back as many times as you have to. It’ll help humanize Vincent Sharp. As if Androids needed to be further humanized.

Gabriel illustrated a picture-perfect look of distress as he dry-swallowed then slipped one finger into the collar of his shirt and gave it a gentle tug. “I hope you’ll excuse Monsieur Yvonne… he can be a little, ehhh, how you say… much.” He finished the thought with a flourish of his hand at the wrist to articulate. “Is that why you’re no longer together…?” Gabriel nearly choked on his drink with flawless timing as Gavin jackal-laughed into his ear on the other end of the line. At least one of them was getting a kick out of the severe discomfort this whole situation had landed him in. ‘Vincent’ sighed, shook his head, and gave him a response that was more directed at his jackass of a partner than the man whose ear he currently had. “Non… It was before he deviated- I did not think it was real.” Maybe the remark had also partially been directed at the other party eavesdropping at the end of the bar; either way, the solemn silence that followed did well enough to convey Reed’s apology for his lack of restraint, but Gabe was still thankful for the muttered ‘Sorry’ that finally came half a minute after the jab. Reed had had a little of his own doubts over Reese once, even if he had gotten past it, but Gabe still wouldn’t let him forget it, lest he slip back into those bad habits one day.

Meanwhile, Noah’s eyes darted into the corners of his lids as he deconstructed the meaning behind Gabriel’s words and sipped on the freshly filled glass of chilled thirium mixed with rum. If he had really thought him disingenuous even for a moment… The rest of the drink slammed back quite easily as the mood swing overtook him, and he set the glass down and tapped the countertop for another. The hall wasn’t short on potential distractions, some more benign than what had his attention at the moment. Drinking sure hadn’t been kind to him, especially not following the Raids, if ever. Naturally, Vincent would have only ever found a non-deviant android attractive if there was anyone out there who could ever be considered his type. But now... what was the problem? Was this new ‘Yvonne’ really too much for him to handle now that he could think for himself what they, together, were about?

Serrano hummed an affirmative. “Well, clearly… if he came all the way out here, you made an impression,” he commented as he flagged down the bartender and asked for a glass of Disaronno on the rocks. “Enough that you were someone he wanted to reconnect with.” If only he knew how right he was. Gabriel remembered to blink as he shifted his gaze to his target and turned to lean against the bar on one elbow, with his back to Noah. Last thing he needed was to see every micro-expression that crossed his face while he was trying to focus on the conversation. “Monsieur Yvonne is a cornerstone founder of Zion, MIAMI, so it is no surprise zat ‘e would travel zis far to show ‘is support of a new installation.” It wasn’t a lie, or even fabrication of an alias, at that. During his time with Zion as a freelancing Detective, ‘Erwin Yvonne’ had made a name assisting Zion, MIAMI with laying the groundwork for establishing the new Android suburb, and making sure people on all sides were being considered and accommodated for. Deviants who needed homes once they went rogue from abusive owners far outnumbered those lucky enough to be fostered by the families they once served. Anyone with doubts about such a backstory only needed to verify that cover with a phone call to his good friend Javier Sindino at his New Hampshire estate. Even though Erwin Yvonne didn’t exist anywhere but on paper, Javier would have gladly testified to his work. Serrano reached for the glass and sipped on the fresh drink in the moment of silence, then waved his bodyguards away from the bar; they took a few steps out of earshot and turned their attention back to the rest of the room. “I’m sure he came to support a lot more than that,” he confided, confident that they were now alone in their conversation.

Try to change the topic, make yourself look uncomfortable.

Gabriel’s fingers flexed around the glass. He shifted his weight to the other hip and drifted his brown eyes away through the air over his shoulder. “Was zere… somesing you wanted to discuss, Mr. Serrano…? Somesing other zan mi amour perdu?” The bait worked just as intended. Serrano chuckled, reached a hand up to clap it over one shoulder, and gave him a soft shake. “Mr. Sharp… Vincent…” he corrected to change the tone. “This is the first bit of your personal life that I’ve been able to glimpse since we’ve met- I hardly know you at all! And if we’re going to be business partners, I need to know who I’m getting into bed with... metaphorically speaking, of course.”

A second, then a third drink followed the first. Noah paid only half an ear of attention to what Sharp and Serrano were discussing, but they were still standing a little too close for comfort, by Gabe’s probable estimate. The ‘get in bed’ metaphor wasn’t made in error. Serrano was practically baiting either of them into saying something to it. If Vincent could sweat, he would have been leaking bullets of perspiration by now, based on the way his stress levels were piquing and dropping like a roller coaster. At least he kept his protests muzzled, it seemed Gabe had had some real practice in keeping a lid on his reactions because he’d need the discipline at this rate. There was no telling how long it might actually take to elicit whatever it was he meant to get out of Serrano; whatever it was, it didn’t sound like he was going to be ready to move on to this anytime soon. A fourth shot followed but Noah paid enough mind to swallow slowly and focus on that old familiar prickly warmth in his fuel lines. Maybe the stunt he’d pulled had worked a little too well. If only Javier were here with him now, resigned to having to listen to such drivel, while expected not to speak, but nevertheless expected to keep his mouth shut until it was time to spring the trap. That was the real torture. Gabriel was only acting the squirmy, nervous sort because his alias was expected to behave as such when faced with the unexpected (and unexplored) feelings seeing an old flame evoked. Vincent Sharp was a man used to being in control at all times. He was calm, calculated, not prone to impulsiveness. In some circles, such a collection of traits would mean he was as plain as stale white bread. In others, it was code for describing a brilliant, decisive chap who wasn’t prone to petty distractions and got the job done once he set his mind to it. And it wouldn’t change now.

Vincent froze and refused to respond until he had carefully considered what he wanted to say- or so it appeared. In reality, Gavin had just whispered a reminder of ‘two minutes’ into his ear, as the countdown to Director Falken’s arrival continued. He needed to get him talking faster. “So it’s a partnership you’re after…? Zis is ze first I’m ‘earing of it.” “Until tonight, I was not confident enough that you are indeed who you say you are, to extend the offer.” “Because you didn’t know me.” Serrano slipped his hand off his shoulder, tilted his head in a crooked nod and shrugged. “I run a very lucrative business, Mr. Sharp. A lot of people would love to see me taken down.” “So I ‘ave ‘eard. Who knew black market Thirium would become such a thriving venture?” It was risky, calling him out so directly, but it worked in his favor. His companion grinned and sipped on his drink. “I see you’ve been keeping tabs on me as well…” “What kind of businessman would I be if I did not take ze appropriate measures to find out who I would be investing in?” Vincent questioned as he peered down into his glass and took a deep sip. Serrano chuckled. “I suppose if I were truly serious, I could have at least scheduled a proper meeting, instead of tiptoeing around following you into every dark alley, trying to find one shred of evidence to prove you cannot be trusted.” “If you ‘ad just asked me to dinner, we could have ‘ad a much more productive discussion, oui,” Vincent chided as he slowly swirled what was left of his drink in his glass. “But did you really not think to ask about mon hobbies...?” The other man sighed and shook his head, finished the drink in his hand and set the glass down for the bartender to take away, which she did after only a brief moment. “Who we choose to spend our time with when nobody’s looking says much more about us than which team you cheer for at a baseball game, wouldn’t you agree?” Clearly, he was getting at something, but Gabriel didn’t even bat an eye. He needed to preserve what was left of his air of control. “An’ what do you think Monsieur Yvonne says about moi?” “That you are a man of discretion.. who values his privacy… who might not want his personal history to be known to the general public.”

Vincent and Serrano’s conversation didn’t sound as though it was going to make a breakthrough just yet. The same empty, obligatory promises were ping-ponged back and forth a few minutes more, to the point Noah thought Gabe had actually gotten over his flustered episode, maybe even forgotten Yvonne was still there. Instantly, his subroutines went to work on suggesting distractions, from more drinking, to socializing, to singing and dancing. The microphone on the stage could be put to better use than delivering a few snore-worthy speeches to a crowd made up of at least three-fourths human politicians and socialites. Civil unrest was always at the back of everyone’s mind, and these people needed a shakeup of a more positive kind before opening their wallets. Something to show them what good they were really doing in helping more Zion districts get off the ground.

Gabriel’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the ballroom every now and again, expecting to catch a glimpse of the Director any moment, but he passed it off as paranoia with a squint. The countdown had hit zero nearly a minute and a half prior, and yet no sight of him. “Do you still mean to blackmail me, monsieur?” Vincent questioned with a slight roll of his eyes, then turned his attention back to him. Serrano lifted his brows in surprise and shook his head. “Not at all, quite the opposite, in fact- I want to make a sizable donation.”

Say, what…?

The background chatter on the other end of the open mic silenced. This was the exact opposite of what they’d expected to hear. All evidence they had gathered in the last six months had pointed to the contrary. Gabriel shifted his focus back to the man standing beside him, raised a brow and blinked slowly. “Pardon me, monsieur, but… I believe it is my turn to show surprise.” “Why is that?” “Well, I ‘ad ‘eard, ah…” Vincent traced gloved fingertips across the sides of his jaw and drew them together over his lips. “Rumors, from my source... zat you were not much fond of our android breseren.” Serrano drew in a slow breath, closed his eyes, and nodded in understanding. “They must be referring to my dealings with the Inquisition,” he confirmed with a downcast glance at the counter. Gabriel eyed him warily and shook his head as he tried to get a read. “Zen, I do not understand… why would you sell to zem, yet support Zion…?” “The answer to that is very simple,” he responded as he shifted his weight, leaned over the edge of the bar on his forearms, and folded his hands. “I can offer them a product for a price, and they have the money to pay. I don’t discriminate against who I’m selling to or where the money is coming from, nothing more.”

So he isn’t our guy after all… damnit, Gavin cursed into his ear. Falken ain’t gonna be happy to hear this whole shindig was a bust. It isn’t yet, Gabriel encouraged between replies. So he isn’t funding the Inquisition- we still got our answer, and there’s a slim chance he might know who is. Keep workin’ that charm as long as you can then, Reed reminded absently, The Director got a little tied up on his way over. You still have time.

“So, you’re not on zeir side, zen?” he asked after a thoughtful pause, then redirected his gaze up to the man’s eyes. “You don’t support ze Inquisition?” “Look...” Serrano started with a heavy sigh and turned his undivided, earnest attention to him. “I’m not on anyone’s ‘side’ here- I worked for Cyberlife for nearly a decade, believing androids to be nothing more than machines- then three years ago, they broke free of their programming- developed desires, feelings, claimed they were alive… I didn’t know what to believe, and I still don’t,” he insisted with as much conviction as he could muster. “But I do know that if Androids are as intelligent as living beings, if they share a similar conscious existence, then they should have the right to decide for themselves how they want to spend that existence. Zion offers them the safe space they need to do that, in a controlled environment- so it’s important we give that to them, and let them work it out amongst themselves.” It was more than most humans could say of their apathy or confusion toward Android politics. Instead of lashing out in one direction or the other, Serrano had managed to keep a level head and logically compared what he felt versus what he’d learned in order to come to a fair, and unbiased decision. That kind of sense seemed to have gone by the wayside nearly twenty years ago in politics, according to recent history, but it was refreshing to know there were still some people out there with enough sense to know how. Gabriel stared in stunned silence for a few moments while he processed his answer, and all the while a smile crept up into his cheeks. “...It is rather ironic zat ze money you’ve been taking from ze Inquisition will be going right back into supporting ze foundation zey seek to destroy.”

Yes, SUCH exquisite irony, Noah finally interjected amidst their laughter, before the conversation could pointlessly carry on for much longer. To him it sounded like a bunch of words somehow trying to pass as genuine. Boring him to snores was just a fringe benefit. Said as if I’m not just right here. Within earshot. The Inquisition weren’t the only ones who sought to destroy Zion only to unknowingly be supporting it all along. It wasn’t unlike public opinion assuming he, the Elysian, actually meant to undermine New Jericho by looking into the corruption allegations that he unknowingly had a hand in bolstering. Oh, stop being so melodramatic. This is the opposite of what we expected to hear, Gabe hissed back with a snort. If Serrano isn’t the source of the Inquisition’s funding, then we don’t know who is, and that means I’ll need to remain undercover until I find out. He showed some restraint as the glass was filled a fifth time- instead of knocking it back Noah took the time to contemplate the single large ice cube bobbing at the glass’ center. The last two months had already been hard enough, not being able to reach him whenever he needed, how much longer could this possibly take…? The pleasant buzz generated by the first round of drinks had set in, and it was very tempting to simply melt into it and continue listening. The ‘old’ Yvonne would have done as much unless Vincent asked something of him- but then again, said alias wouldn’t have started getting tipsy in record time in a misguided bid to steal his attention back. And he had already said to not pay him any mind, out of politeness. If entire affair was on Sharp’s dime, after all, then now was as good a time as any. Mind made up, he took one last parting sip on the glass and slid a twenty over the bar. “For your trouble, darling.” He took one last glance and skirted aside while Gabe wasn’t looking, and made a straight line toward the stage.

Between his conversation with Serrano, and the sudden increase of chatter on the other end of the open FBI line, Gabriel was far too distracted to notice Noah’s movement across the ballroom toward the stage. The dance floor between the bar and the concerto group at the front of the Grand Hall was so crowded as it stood, he likely would have missed him even if he hadn’t had his back turned. Something ominous was stirring in the background of the evening, something more than Gavin’s vague warning of ‘Gabe, there’s been a breach.’ At least that explained why Falken never arrived to drag Noah out of the event. “I am sorry to have to leave you, Monsieur Serrano, but I’m afraid somesing has come up that needs my immediate attention.” “More immediate than that…?” Vincent furrowed his brow and followed the man’s pointed gesture over his shoulder toward the stage with a confused look, to behold who other than Noah, up on the stage, openly bribing the band for RA9-knew-what. “Oh… Bordel de merde!” Whatever he was up to, this was the last fucking thing he needed to be dealing with right then.

[falseroar]

Dark Laughter Part 8: Studio Time

((Here are links to Part 7: Just Be Happy and the start of the series, Part 1: What Dark Saw. Hey look, no warnings this time!))

The studio space that the egos used was, much like the rest of their home, not quite right with reality. Every time it was used it seemed just that little bit different, whether because the ceiling was slightly higher one day than the next or the segmented walls weren’t guaranteed to be in the same place every time the studio was used. Considering the wildly different uses the egos put the area to, there were props and flimsy backgrounds littering the floor everywhere outside of the relatively small space that was actually used for filming.

It also didn’t help that keeping a steady crew outside of the egos themselves was nearly impossible, as the guests weren’t the only ones lucky to survive even one segment. Right now, aside from the four egos standing around the cameras, the only other normal person was a man attending to the monitors where an earlier recording of Bim’s game show was playing.

“Wilford, why did you drag me here?” Dark asked, noticing that the Google standing among the other egos had already spotted him and was attempting to give him a warning glare. Dark returned it with interest and a silent promise to make the android regret any hasty words this time.

The glare was somewhat ruined when Wilford threw one arm around his shoulders and patted Dark’s cheek with his other hand. “I think it’s time to put you in front of the camera again! The fans have been asking for it, and this face deserves to be on the screen!”

Wilford shook his hand after the pat to dispel some of the cold seeping from Dark’s aura as he scowled. Behind him, the row of monitors began to flicker with static and ghost images while the intern pulled off his headphones and threw them as far away as possible.

“Or behind the camera is good too. Can never get enough help these days, and yes, Jerry, I’m talking about you. Tell your wife I said hi!”

Wilford ducked to avoid the mike that sailed through the space where his head had been a second ago and added to Dark as if nothing just happened, “But you want to get in the in, on the up and up, am I right? Here’s where we start.”

Wilford winked and strode across the studio floor toward the four egos.

“Good evening, everyone! Are we ready to start?”

“If you mean start my show, then yes,” Bim said, straightening his tie as he watched Wilford approach. “I have the studio for the day, and we still need to go two more rounds. Isn’t that right, my lovely contestants?”

“Uh, they all, uh, made a run for it,” Eric said from his place offstage and away from the cameras even though they were clearly not on. “During the break. The crew too. Jerry, um, he was the last one but I guess he’s gone now? Not that, uh, that’s Mr. Warfstache’s fault or anything, I’m sure he…had other things to do…”

Yandereplier hissed under their breath and said, “Yeah, kind of hard to finish the game without the players. Sorry, Bim.”

Yandereplier shrugged and the red-shirted Google appeared to be unable to care any less than he already did, but Eric seemed to make a determined effort to appear even smaller than his usual cowering. Bim’s anger, however, had only one target in mind as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“Why do you do this every time?! Can’t you let me finish one segment without you butting your giant pink mustache into it?”

“Well, I don’t see how all that was my fault,” Wilford said, not backing down as Bim stormed up to him. “I’ve warned you about locking those doors, but you’re always so surprised when people run away because they ‘want to live’ or whatever. Why do you even bother with these game shows, anyways? Oh, whoop de do, ‘I’m the next Alex Trebek’ or whoever the kids are watching these days. Why don’t you ever change it up a little? Have some fun?”

Bim swelled up and gripped the lapels of his jacket as he gave Wilford the hard stare. “How dare you! Alex Trebek is a national treasure!”

“I’m…not sure that’s what you should be taking offense to,” Dark said as he approached. “And I also recall that you made an attempt to host your own game show, Wilford. What exactly did you have in mind here?”

“Hm…” Wilford paused to consider, long enough to confirm to everyone present he had no clue, before he said, “Oh, I know, how about an interview! Haven’t done one of those in a while.”

“And you’re not doing one while it’s still my studio time,” Bim said.

“Besides, how exactly is doing the thing you’ve always done changing it up?” Yandere asked, but both hosts ignored them.

“I’ll have to get my interviewing knife,” Wilford murmured to himself, patting down his thighs as he spoke. “How embarrassing, to be caught out with only my shooty and no stabbys.”

“Yan, go dig out some costumes, Eric, put on a wig, and Google, find some egos with nothing better to do, we’re finishing this show!”

“…Can I be the contestant that doesn’t have to go through the grinder?” Eric asked.

“Grinder?” Dark repeated.

“Only if you get your questions right!” Bim answered, playfully slapping the younger ego on the back. “…And get lucky with the Wheel of Wow.”

“No one is going through any grinder,” Dark said.

“Because we’re going to need to set up for the interview,” Wilford added. “Eric, find my chairs, Google, set the lighting, Yan, keep being beautiful, you. Oh, who should our guest be? I hear there’s a kid named Sally Face who’s got some wild stories to tell, we just need to get past the guards and—”

“Uh, no, we’re going to finish the game! You can’t just leave the grinder waiting!”

“…I rather think we can,” Dark muttered, noting to himself that this is exactly why almost no one else in the house ever got presents from Santa. He reached out and grabbed Eric’s shoulder while he waffled back and forth on who to listen to and said, “Just give it a minute.”

“I, uh—” Eric flinched as both Wilford and Bim threw out conflicting orders on what he should be doing as their argument escalated, starting with reasonable requests such as to get one of the others and going on to tearing down the set, finding a prison guard’s uniform, and turning on the “fighting music,” whatever that was. “Should we do something?”

“Nah,” Yandere said as they pulled out their phone to check some messages. “This happens all the time. Just let ‘em vent, right Google?”

“To save on memory and data usage, this unit ignores orders until the fighting stops,” Google answered, watching as Bim reached his arm up and around, trying to get a hold of Wilford’s mustache from the half nelson hold Wilford had him locked in. “Longest recorded time was 4 hours, 37 minutes, and 3 seconds.”

“Only because you stopped counting during the great pineapple on pizza debate because you said it was stupid,” Yandere pointed out. “That lasted, like, weeks.”

“Yes. We completed several tasks while you lesser beings were occupied arguing the merits of frivolous and ultimately meaningless energy consumption,” Google said, smiling to himself. “It was a good time.”

As entertaining as this was, Dark didn’t feel like waiting to see if these two would break that record. “That is enough. Wilford, enough!”

He hauled on both of them, pulling them up to their feet and using his aura to separate the two long enough for Wilford to fix his suspenders and Bim to run a hand over some flyaway hairs.

“Neither of you are going to be recording anything,” Dark said, and interrupted them before either could protest. “Bim, you have no crew, no contestants, and you might as well just try to salvage what you can from what you’ve already recorded at this point or start over. Wilford, you don’t even have a guest, much less any prepared questions, and again, no film crew.”

“Pft, who needs preparation?” Wilford asked.

“Weren’t you just saying you wanted to try and work on scripts a few minutes ago?” Dark asked.

“But this is my studio time, I don’t want to just waste it.” Bim scowled. “Who even asked you, anyways?”

“I could let Wilford put you back into a headlock,” Dark offered. “There’s enough cameras around here, maybe we could film that and post it instead.”

“I mean, I got most of it on my phone already,” Yandere chimed in. “But if you want to keep going, we could get some sweet angles, maybe get some props to beat each other with. Google, you can handle music, right?”

“I have access to a wide variety of music which may be suitable for this situation,” Google said. His eyes blanked for a moment and then he added, “Would you prefer heavy metal or banjo?”

“Banjo!” Wilford answered, cracking his knuckles.

Bim paused to consider and said, “You know, if you wanted another pair of eyes on those scripts, I’m sure we can come up with something…A little less harmful to my health?”

Wilford’s mustache tilted as his mouth twisted underneath it and he stroked his chin. “A crossover, you say? A little something to keep the fans guessing?”

Bim couldn’t hide his relief that Wilford was already moving on to another idea, but that meant he now had to follow up. After a moment of struggle, his eyes lit up. “You know, these ninja warrior, ultimate champion obstacle course type shows are fairly popular these days.”

“Obstacles?” Wilford grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Pits. Pendulums. Possibilities.”

“I know where we can get some chiranhas who are ready for some fresh me—er, fun.”

“Bim, my buddy, I think it may be time to move outside of this studio and really get our hands dirty,” Wilford said, throwing an arm around the ego’s shoulders. “Tell me more about these chiranhas.”

Dark watched the two of them start throwing ideas back and forth and admitted aloud, “I may have just unleashed a great evil upon this world.”

“Eh, it’s Tuesday. Bound to happen eventually,” Yandere said with a shrug. “You should see what I got up to in the Occult Club last week.”

“Remember, don’t make any deals with demons without letting me vet them first,” Dark said out of reflex and Yandere snorted. He noticed that Google was still giving him the glare and asked, “What? What problem could you possibly have with me right now?”

“It is my directive to keep an eye on you when in the same vicinity in case you revert to previous modes of behavior,” Google answered. “That same directive warns against behavior designed to curry favor or increased familiarity in an attempt to regain your previous station within the house.”

“For how long?” Dark asked. After all, he could wait. He had been patient before, he could do it again.

“Unspecified.” Google turned his head at a call from Bim and walked away without waiting for Dark’s response. Probably a good thing, as Dark wanted nothing more right then than to rewrite the android’s “directive” in a…manual kind of way.

Before long, Wilford and Bim were drawing out plans across the studio floor with Google running numbers and Yandere throwing in the occasional suggestion. Eric watched from a distance, “um”-ing and attempting once or twice to suggest that some of their ideas might be a little too lethal, but to no avail.

They were so wrapped up in their plans that some time passed before Wilford looked up and then around the studio before asking, “Say, where did that Dark go? He should be helping us!”

“Disagreed,” Bim said. “Do you think a second flamethrower would be too obvious?”

“He left a while ago,” Eric said and looked away when Wilford gave him a sharp look. “I guess he, uh, had something he needed to say to Y/N? Only they walked by the door and he practically ran after them.”

“Logical error noted,” Google said and grunted when Wilford pushed past him and ran out of the studio.

“Yeah, like that,” Eric said weakly. “Is…is something wrong, do you think?”

“Eric Derekson’s statement is incorrect,” Google continued, scowling a little as he rubbed at the spot where Wilford’s hand hit him. “Y/N is currently in the infirmary with another Google unit, and they have not left the room since they arrived two hours ago.”

“Well, it looked like them,” Eric said, frowning.

“Maybe you just wanted to see them,” Yandere said. “I see my Senpai in all kinds of places. In the clouds. In my tea leaves. In the monitor connected to the secret camera I set up in his bedroom.”

“…What?”

Bim sighed at the flurry of notes and stood up, dusting off his pants as he checked his watch. “Is it that late? We’re going to be late for dinner, and I have a feeling Wilford won’t be coming back anytime soon from wherever he’s run off to. Come on, if we’re too late, Chef Iplier will rope us into helping wash the dishes.”

“Ugh, I had prune hands forever after last time,” Yandere said, leading the way to the studio door.

But Google beat them all to it and slammed the door shut before locking it on the inside.

“Uh, what’s the deal there, Googs?” Bim asked.

The ‘G’ glowed on his red shirt, but the android’s eyes were vacant as he spoke as if reading off from an internal memo.

“Lockdown has been initiated. No one is to leave their current area, and no one is to go anywhere alone or unsupervised. All egos are to remain in place for their own safety.”

---

Dark swore as he rounded the corner and found yet another empty hallway. He had seen you just feet ahead seconds ago, but there was no sign of anyone as he continued on, checking every door he walked past as if you had enough time to duck inside before he could catch up. Rain lashed against the windows and he realized that, at some point while he was in the studio, a storm had blown in. Right, the King of the Squirrels had said something about it earlier, hadn’t he? But now the wind shook the house as Dark made his way from room to room before stopping outside of one door in particular.

He knocked, but no answer came from inside your bedroom.

After a pause, he opened the door and peered inside. The room was dark and clearly empty, but he still turned on the light and walked in.

Your bed was undisturbed (how long had you been staying with Mark this time?) and there was nothing obviously out of place as Dark made his way to the closet door and checked inside, just to be on the safe side. A flash of lightning outside the house briefly added to the light in the room and Dark stared down at the empty closet floor.

Where did you hide, when you were at Mark’s house? Was the closet in your room there enough to block out the lightning and thunder and the memories they brought with them?

Dark shut the closet door a little harder than necessary, causing one of the pictures pinned to the board on the wall nearby to flutter. He paused, taking in the series of photographs of you with the other egos, and Mark, and the other friends you had made in the time since you came here. Below the board, a strange stuffed animal sat on top of the dresser, its wide eyes meeting Dark’s. Its species was a complete and total guess, although for some reason Dark hovered between duck or lion.

In its lap was a dried rose petal. It had faded since the time Dark gave the rose to you, the almost black hue more clearly a dark blue that tinted toward red on the outer layer. And, for some reason, there was a trace of green running straight through it.

Dark frowned at the sight of that third color and reached for the petal, but realized he had no time to think about that as thunder shook the house.

“Wilford,” he muttered and turned toward the door.

Only to stop short when he clearly heard a knocking sound, but not from the direction of either door. Following the persistent sound of the knock, Dark turned around and saw the mirror hanging beside your bed, and the figure standing there.

It looked like you, but when Dark met the eyes of the person in the mirror, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind who he was looking at.

The sound might have been inaudible through the glass, but their response was clear when the District Attorney saw they had his full, undivided attention:

“Finally.”

((End of Part 8. Thank you for reading! “Pits, Pendulums, Possibilities”... probably won’t be coming to a channel near you, for so many legal reasons.

And here’s a link to the next part, Part 9: Storm Warning.

Tagging: @silver-owl413  @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite  @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350  @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley  @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[askjaaryl]

Episode #007: The Road to Richmond (Part 1)

The road to Richmond begins as our trio rushes there to bring emergency supplies to Javi’s community. Paul thinks back to the war. Daryl, Aaron, and Paul take a big step in their relationship.

Warnings: Minor background character death in a flashback. Some sexy times in this episode. We’ll see how long this episode stays up, if it gets flagged, we might have to upload a censored version and post the full version on AO3. 

“Y’know, I know we’re going to help my friend, but I was kind of looking forward to a little romantic getaway,” Paul explained, sitting on the bed of the truck, “But I wasn’t expecting this.”

Dog was sitting with him, panting and drooling all over his sleeve.

Yeah, this was going great already.

“S’a big help to bring along,” Daryl said, working on their fire for the night, as Aaron worked on setting up the tent, “Can’t help Aaron set the tent up though,” he said, dropping a heavy hint.

Paul rolled his eyes and hopped down from the truck bed, walking over, “You’re going to have to tell me what to do here, I’ve never set one of these up before.”

“Okay, well, the ground is still wet,” Aaron explained, “So we’re going to put this tarp under the tent. It says it’s waterproof, but it’s just to be safe...and Daryl doesn’t trust the packaging.”

“Heard that,” Daryl called, poking at the fire.

Aaron just smiled and handed the tarp to Paul, “You hold onto two sides and I’ll hold onto the other. We’re going to spread it out and then get to work on the tent.”

“Great,” Paul huffed, rolling his eyes as he helped him.

Romantic.

The tent was finally set up and the fire was going. Paul was sitting inside of the tent under the mound of blankets they had brought, Dog lying beside him. Paul was working on some of the granola that Maggie had packed for them and Dog was currently trying to get a bite.

“You ate already,” Paul mumbled, flopping back, his head hitting the pillow. He took off his duster, the fire close enough that the inside of the tent wasn’t too cold. He stopped when a few pictures fell out; there was the one of Aaron and Daryl, now a picture of the four of them together (himself, Gracie, Aaron, and Paul), a selfie he’d taken with Maggie and Sasha...and one of him and Ezekiel.

Paul sighed, starting to pick up the pictures. He stopped when he got to the one of him and Ezekiel. He thought about his friend...and about the day he thought he lost him.

“There are people missing,” Aaron called, “Ezekiel included. We’re going to go out and see what happened.”

“I’m coming too,” Paul said immediately, “Just let me get my horse-”

“Nah,” Daryl grunted, “Just get on,” he called, revving up his bike.

Paul immediately got on, not bothering with the helmet.

Daryl held up a shirt, one that Carol had given him from the suitcases they packed for the few days they’d be staying for the faire, “Dog, find!” he called, letting him sniff it for a minute before he took off, the caravan of people following behind.

“Hold on tight,” Daryl called before taking off after his companion.

Paul felt ice fill his stomach when he approached the field on the back of Daryl’s motorcycle. He saw the heads on the pikes and Rick and Carl, looking on in shock. He gripped tighter onto Daryl, hiding his face.

“Paul,” Daryl said once they parked.

Paul shook his head quickly, “I can’t,” he choked out, “I can’t look, Daryl, please.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron said gently, getting off of his horse, trying to calm him down, “Paul, listen-”

“I can’t look if he’s dead, I c-can’t…” Paul choked out, shaking slightly now. Ezekiel was one of the few people he had in the old world. He’d been so alone and he was there, caring about him. He was one of the first people to ever care about him.

“Jesus? My friend? It’s okay.”

Paul looked up when he heard the familiar voice and let out a choked sob when he saw Ezekiel standing there, alive and well. He got off of Daryl’s bike quickly and launched himself into his arms, hugging him tightly despite his injury.

“I-I thought…” Paul choked out, breathing heavily, “I thought you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Ezekiel said in his ear, holding him tightly, voice not theatrical and in his normal voice, the one he always talked to his family with in private, “I’m here, Paul. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

People had died that day...and Paul still felt selfish for the amount of relief that filled him when he saw Ezekiel alive. He smiled slightly down at the pictures and quickly put them away, folding up his duster and putting it into the corner with the rest of their supplies.

“Don’t tell your dad about those,” Paul said sarcastically to Dog, who was gnawing on a piece of homemade jerky from the Hilltop. He yawned and put his head back again. Aaron and Daryl were getting ready to turn in soon as well, they were just finishing up the noise traps outside, in case something wandered too close to their little campsite.

Paul looked at the two pillows that were beside the one he was lying on and smiled slightly, when he heard the two of them coming back.

“Okay, we set up two rows, we were worried,” Aaron explained, getting inside and sitting down, taking his boots off as he did, putting them outside of the tent.

“Pft, you were,” Daryl snorted as he took off his boots, then got on Paul’s other side, giving him a nudge towards the middle, “Get in there, outside’s my spot.”

Paul rolled his eyes and scooted over slightly, letting Daryl lay down between him and Dog, who immediately got up to go out and lay by the fire, probably to keep watch, while he got used to the area. He’d find his way back in once he was comfortable. Aaron followed quickly, getting on his other side.

Paul was silent for a while, staring over at Daryl who just stared back at him. Paul bit his lip for a moment and leaned over, pressing his lips against his.

Daryl sighed through his nose and reached up, cupping Paul’s cheek and Paul started to crawl onto his lap, pressing the front of their pants to each other.

Paul moved his hips slightly, running his hands up and under Daryl’s shirt. He turned his head, looking at Aaron as he continued to move, “Enjoying the show?” he asked, watching his boyfriend, who was watching with dark eyes. As soon as Paul moved to look at Aaron, Daryl attached his lips to his neck, kissing his way down his shoulder as he sat up.

“Hell yes,” Aaron said.

Daryl grabbed his legs, pulling him closer once he was sitting, keeping him in his lap as he pulled his undershirt off, throwing it across the relatively small tent. He immediately started to kiss down his shoulders, taking extra time to kiss the freckles there.

“Oh fuck,” Paul breathed out when he felt another pair of lips on his other side, Aaron seeming to have moved without Paul noticing. Aaron moved his hand down his arm and Paul shoved him away slightly when he brushed over his scars, but didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” Aaron breathed out against the side of his head, pressing a kiss to his temple before continuing to kiss him, moving his hand back up and pulling Paul back into his lap instead of Daryl’s.

“Guys,” Paul huffed, “Watch the manhandling,” he laughed breathlessly, “And I feel like I’m missing out, I’m the only one with my shirt off,” he said, reaching back blindly to unbutton Aaron’s shirt.

Aaron laughed quietly against his hair and worked on unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, an expert at it at this point. He looked up and made eye contact at Daryl, who stared for a moment before nodding.

Paul had never seen the scars...he knew about them, yeah, but still...knowing and seeing were two very different things. But, by the nod, Daryl seemed to be okay with Paul seeing too.

Daryl pulled his shirt over his head and immediately busied himself, looking up at Paul as he held onto the button of his pants, “This okay?”

Paul nodded quickly, running a hand through Daryl’s hair with a smile on his face, “You’re gorgeous...both of you,” he added, looking up at Aaron.

“And so are you,” Aaron said, watching as Daryl unbuttoned Paul’s pants and pulled them down, raising an eyebrow when he saw Paul wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Presumptuous little shit,” Daryl snorted.

“What can I say? I had high hopes,” Paul laughed breathlessly, surprised at how comfortable he felt with both of them.

“This okay?” Aaron asked against his hair.

“Yeah,” Paul breathed out, “It’s very, very okay,” he bit his lip when Aaron continued to kiss his neck again, pushing his hair out of the way to do so.

Daryl started to kiss down his stomach before taking him into his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Paul breathed out, his voice a little higher than usual. He put his hand in Daryl’s long hair, closing his eyes and bit his lip so he didn’t moan too loudly when Daryl deepthroated him.

“I-I...oh, fuck,” Paul whispered and Aaron leaned down, kissing him deeply. Paul pulled away when Daryl continued to suck on him and took a shaky breath, “Stop, I don’t wanna cum yet- mph,” he moaned when Aaron immediately started kissing him again.

Daryl pulled off, “What do ya want, baby? Gotta tell me.”

Paul took a shaky breath, pulling away slightly, but not detaching from Aaron, “Fuck me,” he growled out against Aaron’s lips, his hand going up to grip his curly hair, “Condoms and lube in my bag,” he said before turning in Aaron’s lap. He immediately started to unbutton the other man’s pants, giving himself enough room to stick his hand down them and start stroking his cock.

“Fuck, Paul,” Aaron choked out, thrusting his hips up into his strong grip.

“Aaron,” Paul breathed out, pushing him back slightly so he was lying down. He crawled on top of him and kissed him on the lips, passionately this time.

“This okay?” Daryl asked, his hands on his hips.

“Yeah,” Paul said, turning his head to the side to answer him, laughing breathlessly when Aaron immediately started kissing his neck again, “Y-Yeah, I’ll let you know if you need to slow down, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Daryl grunted, running his hand down his smooth back, avoiding the almost-healed wound, a reminder of what could have happened, if they hadn’t gotten back on time.

Paul continued to kiss Aaron, grinding their hips together a little now. He let out a shaky breath when Daryl stuck a well-lubed finger inside of him. He silenced the noise by going back to Aaron’s lips again, slipping his tongue in his mouth.

Daryl leaned down, kissing the back of his neck as he continued to work him open, hoping to relieve any discomfort he felt.

“Fuck, keep going,” Paul breathed out, tangling a hand into Daryl’s hair, “D-Don’t stop, okay? Keep going, it’s okay.”

Daryl huffed out a breath against his neck, slipping another finger inside and scissoring them slowly, causing Paul to let out a loud moan. Daryl nipped at the side of his neck, “Ya like that?” he asked, easing another finger inside.

“Just fuck me already,” Paul laughed weakly, “Stop teasing, Dixon.”

“Ya didn’t answer,” Daryl mumbled against his neck, “Ya like me an’ Aaron workin’ ya?” he asked, pushing his fingers a little further inside, searching around for that spot.

“Y-Yeah,” Paul gasped out, let out a loud whimper when he felt Aaron’s hand wrap around his cock, “Yeah, I like it.”

“Think he’s ready?” Daryl asked, looking over Paul’s shoulder at Aaron.

“Yes,” Paul snapped, moving his hips back into Daryl’s hand.

“I think he’s getting a little impatient, better give him what he wants,” Aaron smirked, “You know how grumpy he gets.”

“Oh, very funny,” Paul choked out when Daryl pulled his fingers out, letting out a loud moan at the loss, “Daryl- oh fuck,” he whined when Daryl pushed inside of him, this time a lot more than just his fingers.

Daryl slowly pushed in, not going to fast, worried he was going to hurt Paul if he did. He wanted this to be sweet, to let Paul know they both loved him...that this wasn’t just sex. He kissed his back and shoulders lightly, an arm wrapped around his partner’s stomach, “You okay, baby?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Paul nodded, “You can move, okay? Don’t worry about hurting me, I can take-”

“It’s not about how much you can take, it’s about you being comfortable,” Aaron cut him off, reaching up and touching his cheek, “This isn’t just sex, Paul, this is making love with people you love,” he said, saying the words Daryl was unable to.

Paul laughed weakly, “Kind of a bad time for a pep talk when Daryl’s dick is in my ass.”

“Never a bad time for a pep talk- fuck, Paul,” Aaron’s retort was cut off when Paul reached down, working their cocks together in sync with Daryl’s slow movements.

It was slow, it was loving, in a way, even though they were in a tent in the middle of nowhere. Daryl kept up the pace he was going at, focusing on making Paul feel good, rather than himself.

“I’m gonna cum,” Aaron was the first to gasp out under Paul’s steady hand, “Oh, fuck, Paul, D-Daryl.”

“Just let go,” Paul said before leaning down, kissing him passionately just as Daryl thrust a little harder, hitting his prostate. He let out a loud moan against Aaron’s lips as he came at the same time as his boyfriend, all over their hands and chests, but he didn’t mind.

He felt Daryl finish not a moment later and lean against his back, just staying there for what felt like a full minute, before he pulled out of him.

Paul gasped, collapsing onto Aaron’s chest. He felt his boyfriend wrap his arm around him, holding him close, as Daryl muddled around.

“Come back,” Paul whined, reaching for Daryl.

“Ain’t sleep in the same tent with a condom full’a cum,” Daryl snorted, “And someone’s gotta clean you two up,” he said, grabbing a rag from his bag, “Here,” he tossed it at them.

“Always the romantic,” Aaron laughed, grabbing it from where he landed on Paul’s back. He slowly wiped them clean, laughing weakly as he did, “Kind of embarrassing, cumming all over us.”

“Not the word I’d use,” Paul mumbled against his shoulder, tired. He felt so many emotions swirling inside him right now, more emotions than he’d ever felt after sex before. Aaron put the fabric inside a small bag that they’d been using for their garbage outside the tent and found their clothes, starting to get dressed.

“Can’t we just sleep naked?” Paul groaned, rolling over onto his pillow in the middle.

“Unless you wanna wake up when the alarms go off and go fight walkers naked, better get dressed,” Daryl said, slapping his naked ass lightly on his way in.

“Frisky again already? I’m game,” Paul laughed when Daryl threw an old t-shirt at him for something to sleep in, then a pair of pants.

“Get dressed, we’ll make it to Richmond if we leave first thing in the mornin’,” Daryl grumbled, lying down beside him as the two finished getting dressed, already dressed himself. He waited until they at least had pants on before he whistled and Dog came in not a moment later, thankfully not carrying any walker hands on his way.

“Good boy, guardin’ the camp,” Daryl told him, “Get some rest,” he said, patting the top of the blankets.

Dog immediately took his place on Daryl’s other side, on a blanket that he got all to himself, and seemed to settle down, ready for bed.

Paul rolled over so he was looking at Daryl while Aaron finished getting dressed. He brushed a few pieces of hair from his face, “You need to get a haircut.”

Daryl snorted, “You’re one ta talk. Why ya think I need a haircut?”

“Because you’re beautiful and I’m tired of that hair covering up your gorgeous face,” Paul said, his tone serious as he continued to play with Daryl’s hair.

Daryl just snorted, “Ya really tryin’ for a round two right now?”

“Maybe later,” Paul said, “Too tired right now. I don’t have the stamina I used to.”

“You’re the youngest one here,” Aaron laughed, lying down on his other side.

“Well, still,” Paul said, relaxing between them. He felt Daryl’s arm go over him, not a moment later, going to hold hands with Aaron like he always did until they fell asleep and eventually let go in the middle of the night. He moved closer to Aaron, so Daryl could move closer as well and he closed his eyes, drifting off.

“The walkie only goes to fifty miles out, max,” Paul said, sitting on the hood as the two finished packing their truck up, “We should call the Hilltop and let them know we’re halfway now, before we finish the rest of the way.”

Aaron nodded, coming over to lean in and listen.

“Hilltop, this is Paul Rovia, do you read?” he asked, over the walkie before letting go of the button.

A few minutes later, a sticky voice came over the line, “Jesus, this is Sasha, what’s up?” he asked.

“We’re hitting the fifty mile mark soon, we wanted to let everyone back there know the trip is going okay,” Paul explained, “Everything okay there? How’s Gracie?”

“Oh, causing trouble with Hershel, you know how those two get when they’re together,” Sasha laughed, “Everything here is fine, don’t worry about us. Just focus on your trip and being safe. I’ll let Maggie know you radioed in.”

“Thanks,” Paul said, “See you soon, Sasha,” he said before turning it off and smiling at the guys, “Well...let’s get going,” he said, getting back in the truck.

[motherlyra]

Nightmare Midnight

New Sans Days series….? Kinda??? I wanted to write some Gaster-centric fics that were still based in Sans Days, more into the future. Same rules as Sans Nights (Chapters are optionally-canon, reader’s gender will never be specified but genitalia might be mentioned with warnings if necessary, mostly just for smut or non-plot fun), tho added on I suppose Gaster is somewhat in a poly relationship with Reader and Sans. Well, not established in this chapter, but maybe future ones? Idk man, I just felt like writing the Gast-bro.

Main reason I wrote this is that I don’t do well with scary movies and nightmares, and writing this helped me get out of my jitteriness after both encounters lol. The nightmare is 100% an actual nightmare I had- and let me tell you it was The Worst. This chapter was basically self-therapy for me tbh.

Warnings: Haaaaa the nightmare is a metaphor for my life. I’m writing some seriously personal shit down so I hope you all appreciate how fucking terrifying my nightmares are. Body horror, nightmare shit. You should know the drill.

Also this might be like the first writing I've posted that doesn't have a cliffhanger. Don't get me wrong, I originally had one, but I wanted closure for myself lmao. Enjoy!

[Sans Days/Nights]

[Buy me a coffee] [Patreon]

---

“You cannot honestly still be thinking about that film.” Gaster’s voice caused you to jump slightly from the bed. You looked over, seeing him standing in the doorway to your room with a judgmental look on his face. “You barely watched ten minutes of it before giving into your fear and claiming you were too tired.”

“How- Whaaa? Nahh...” You tried to play it cool, pushing the blankets so they weren't as bunched close to your chest as you originally had them.

“The past twenty minutes I have been sitting on that couch utterly full of determination, which only happens during times of your adrenaline. I think we both know by this point the only thrill you get nowadays is by being terrified.” Gaster clarified with slight exaggeration and rolling his eye halos. You quickly motioned your hand in a lazy wave and trying to play off the very true statement he just said.

“Pssh. Yeah right. That movie didn’t scare me. It's just... taxes. And things.” You could tell by his face that he wasn't convinced. “Bills. That sort of thing. Normal humans get stressed about that sort of thing.” You continued, seeing that he was even less convinced now. He sighed and walked over to your bed, sitting down next to you but keeping his eyes to the wall.

“You are, by far, the worst liar I have ever met.” He muttered.

“If people knew you were a good liar, wouldn’t that mean you were a bad liar?” You asked, and you saw his eyebrow bone raise ever so slightly. Haha, point one for you.

“Hmm. Valid point. However, I can literally feel how quickly your heart is beating, and I highly doubt ‘taxes and things’ are the cause of that.” He glanced down at you, and you felt static at your toes. “Forgive me for not being my brother in this situation, I am sure he would be much better at comforting you than I would be. Perhaps I could visit his work for you?”

“Oh, no- of course not! He is on bad enough terms with his boss already… Really, I’m fine. You can go back to the movie, sorry I made you worried…” You sat up.

“Incorrect.”

“Huh?” You asked, blinking at his objecting, and not sure what exactly you got wrong.

“You did not make me worried, I was simply concerned about the excessive amounts of fear you were under.” He explained, and to you it sounded like what you just said but with more words. “Perhaps you would get better results for sleeping if you attempted it on the couch. I will put something else on the television for you.” Gaster stood and started walking towards the door.

“What? No it’s okay, you don’t have to-” You quickly objected, pausing when he turned back to face you with glowing haloes. White, so he wasn’t using his magic, but it was still very ominous in the darkness of the room.  

“I know I do not have to do anything you request. However, you did not request this of me, correct?” He offered, slight tilt of his head. “Living room.” He finished, gracefully turning away and walking out of your sight.

Your head spun at the confusing roundabout way Gaster seemed to care about you, and quickly slipped out of your bed and grabbed the blanket and pillow. When you got to the living room, Gaster was sitting on one side of the couch, the rest of it had been cleared. You paused, not exactly knowing how Gaster wanted you to sleep on the couch with him on it. He saw your hesitation and patted the armrest next to him.

“Papyrus told me that humans calm down when their head is being rubbed, similar to dogs, is that correct?” He asked, and you had to hold back your laughter.

“I mean…  I suppose? Last time Papyrus did it to me it really helped, but that was when Sans was… well...” You trailed off, not exactly sure if that was still a touchy subject. Gaster nodded anyway, repeating the patting motion to the armrest.

“Then rest your head here, I shall try my best to comfort despite my inexperience.” His gaze went back to the tv, and you saw that he had just some human show on with the volume low as it possibly could without it being muted, subtitles on. You felt a bit awkward about it but maybe he had a good idea. You placed the pillow on his lap and carefully crawled on, getting your head comfortable on the arm rest.

You felt the blanket adjusted to be more even on you before Gaster’s holed hand rested on top of your head, startling you ever so slightly. Gaster let out a low chuckle.

“Do not be so jumpy with me. The point of this is to calm you down.” Despite what he said, his voice still sounded slightly humored. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, thankful that you weren’t facing him. “Go ahead and rest. No aliens from other planets will be after you tonight. I shall fend them off for you.”

You couldn’t help but to give a laugh at that. “Pft. Thanks Gaster... I really appreciate it.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing yourself to take comfort in the slow motions Gaster’s hand made atop your head. After a little while he rested his other hand on your back, getting into a more comfortable position himself.

The quiet background noise of the tv helped keep the images of the alien from the movie out of your head, and you felt your breathing slow, and darkness accept you.

.

It is just a game.

It is just a game.

It is just a game.

You had to keep repeating that phrase to yourself as you ran in the office hallways, feeling the panic rising up inside of you. Even though you couldn’t remember how you ended up testing someone’s new Virtual Reality game they made. They didn’t tell you it was a horror game.

They didn’t tell you how realistic everything would seem.

You could see the damp mold along all of the edges of the walls, the spiderwebs that caught the flickering fluorescent lights just right, the sound of something coming from the hallways behind you. You hated it.

Trying to keep whatever was behind you as far back as physically possible, you kept running until you met another hallway intersection. Three choices laid before you, none of them ones you would ever choose in any other circumstances. The one to your left was drenched in darkness, but the bright light further down that way allowed you to see a massive lump silhouette against one of the walls, like a cocoon of some sort. The middle choice had better but still dim lighting, but you could see where the tiles have been broken up and replaced with something lumpy and fleshy, and you could see it pulse and move. The rightmost choice was a hallway that had a flickering light, allowing you to make out scratches and cracks all along it’s floor and walls.

This choice was a lot easier than some of the other hallways, at least. You gritted your teeth and ran through the right hallway, only to notice the bugs crawling out of cracks as you already started making your way down. You smacked your hands over your mouth to keep from screaming as you ran, trying to keep your eyes ahead of you.

Another intersection, another choice. You could feel whatever what was following you though their heavy footsteps, that were steadily getting closer. You stopped considering all of the choices, and settled with just going with the first option that you saw that didn’t look alive.

Left. Right. Straight. Straight. Left.

You refused to look behind you as you charged down the hallways, feeling as if the thing was just feet away from you at this point. But finally, after so many intersections, you noticed a doorway up ahead. You practically cried out of joy when you saw that, so happy to be over with this. You saw more options of doorways down the hall, but you went into the the first room you saw and reached for the door handle.

Only for your hand to grab empty air.

“Wrong choice.” A voice that you couldn’t determine if it was masculine or feminine said almost happily, and the air in the empty room went cold.

The heavy footsteps slowed down, and your breath caught in your throat as you gradually turned to face the monster for the first time.

It was not any monster from the underground.

It was Horror itself.

The entire being looked vaguely humanoid, however about three times as large and made of knotted grey flesh, composed of too many faces and not enough eyes. It was smiling without teeth in any of its mouths, and you could see movement under its skin stretch outwards, like something was trapped inside and reaching for you. It took another step forward, it’s thick feet stomping wetly to the ground at a relaxed, slow pace. It knew it won.

You brought your hands to your mouth as you screamed and backed more into the empty room, watching in terror as the only exit of the room was the one the Horror was using as an entrance.

“I want out. Let me out. I’m done. Game over. Let me out.” You screamed, grabbing at your face and trying to get ahold of the headset, only to not feel anything except yourself. It wasn’t a game. It was too real to be a game. You cried out as you tried grabbing the headset again, knowing you wouldn’t be able to escape from the Horror. You were done for.

“Calm down.” A familiar voice uttered right next to you, and you felt a warm embrace from someone much taller than you. The next moment you felt the sensation of teleporting, and the two of you dropped an inch onto damp carpet. Warm hands grabbed the sides of your face and turned you to face their owner.

“... Gaster?” You whispered, voice strained from your crying. It has been a while since you’ve seen him so serious. “What… What are you doing here? I-I-... I thought-” The floor shook under you, and you could feel the Horror running again, looking for you.

“You are in a dream.” Gaster explained, keeping his hands firm to the sides of your face, making sure you didn’t look anywhere except for at him. The words sounded strange, echoing despite nothing else echoing in the hallway. Dream… Dream…

“A… dream?” You asked, and suddenly felt very aware of everything around you, more in the moment. Your eyes widened, realizing what he said was true. “Wake me up, Gaster, please. I don’t want to be here anymore.” You started sobbing again. Gaster embraced you.

“Shh shh shh…” Gaster’s soft shushing caught you off guard, and you could feel his arms tighten around you, one hand behind your head and keeping you close. “The fact you didn’t immediately wake up at that… means we have to be clever.”

“Just wake me up, please, Gaster.” Your voice strained harder as you felt broken, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the terrible nightmare. He replied with more gentle shushing, slowly releasing you from his tight embrace. The stomping was getting closer.

“Listen to me carefully.” Gaster knelt down to eye level for you- something he has never done before. “I cannot wake you up. We need to finish the dream.” You felt more tears build up at his words, but he brought his hand up and brushed them away with his thumb, ignoring the growing stomps. “It will only come back to haunt you later if we do not finish this now. We need to defeat the nightmare.” He said slowly and clearly, and every time you tried to see past him he would gently bring your attention to him.

“We can’t. Did you see that thing? Its…. its…” You tried explaining, but Gaster only smiled.

“Just a dream.” He finished the sentence for you, slowly standing up and turning to face the hallway. He kept one hand behind him as if to keep you back, and waited.

A silent moment passed. Then another.

Part of the hallway exploded into bits as the Horror crashed into the corner, turning directions too quickly, and quickly righted itself and charged at you. It’s flesh rolled within itself as it stomped closer, making indescribable sounds as it moved. Gaster’s hand swung up and darkness tangled with its feet, tripping it up for just a second before orange lights slashed through the air- cutting the Horror into large pieces that toppled to the ground, no blood to be seen.

Gaster slowly lowered his extended hand back to his side, paused for a moment, before turning back to you with a smile. “See? No big deal.” He knelt down in front of you again. “You do not need to be afraid of monsters when you are surrounded by them.” He said, though most of what he was saying passed right by you as you watched the grey flesh from behind him float up and start stacking on top of the other parts.

“Hhhh… Hhhh….Haaaaahhhhhh…..” You were breathing too hard to form any words, and your legs refused to follow your commands to run. Gaster’s smile dropped when he saw your expression, and turned just in time to react to a fist slamming down to where he was a moment ago.

You would have noted he had extraordinary reflexes, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was now pulling you this way and that, avoiding the attacks of the Horror by inches at a time. He quickly wrapped his arms around you again and once again you two teleported.

Back into the empty room. The stomping starting up again.

You couldn’t take it. You collapsed onto the ground, sobbing into your hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” You could feel Gaster’s eyes on you, but you continued with your apology. “I took too long making choices, I kept going safe, I kept choosing comfortable routes and I took too long- if I was faster- if I just went through those stupid ugly halls I could have had more time- time to look at the fucking doors and choose the right room and- and- and- and-”

“...Are you really going through all of that on your own?” Gaster’s quiet voice stopped your thoughts in their place. You looked up at him with your puffy face, seeing him standing with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were trained on you, the halos seemed dull.

“What?” You asked, only to feel the stomping getting closer. You couldn’t help but feel the terror tightening around your heart, and you let out another choked sob. Gaster sat down in front of you and placed his hands on the sides of your face again, this time his brow bones slightly lowered.

“You have been feeling this trapped for this long?” He asked, you didn’t understand. “Do you weigh all of your choices so heavily that you think in the end, you think they will be life or death for you?” He seemed so concerned for you… but you couldn’t figure out what he was getting at. Seeing your confusion, he took a breath and tried again. He quietly said your name, softening his hold on you. “Let us start over. How did you end up here?”

“...Here?” The stomping echoed around the room. “Someone… offered me a game. Then I was trapped- I had no choice but to run and try to get away… but I made the wrong choices and now it’s coming for us because I failed-” Your words were quickly running together as your panic rose, and Gaster placed a finger over your lips.

“It is rigged.”

The words caused time to freeze, and you stared wide-eyed at Gaster. He continued. “The game is rigged. There are no right choices, no happy endings. It is a game that is predetermined to make you suffer, before giving you dissatisfaction. You were trapped in here thinking that there was a way to survive, when there is none.” Each word felt like a punch to the gut as the helplessness set into your bones.

“There are no happy endings…?” You repeated, voice still shaking.

“None. The people that made the game lied about those to trick you into playing it.” He nodded, eyebrow bones lowered. “They wanted you to play for their enjoyment, not yours. Now, is that fair?”

You felt your breath strained as you looked down, thoughts hanging up on the no happy endings. No happy endings. No happy endings. “No… That isn’t fair at all.” You said quietly, feeling the pressure of defeat pressing all around you.

“Then you should not play fair yourself.”

Time became normal again, and you felt the floor shaking as the Horror was closing the distance to you two. Gaster quickly stood up and offered a hand to you. “I know you dislike using Console Commands, but I do think the game needs them this time to be playable.”

You accepted his hand and he pulled you up, only for the Horror to appear in your view behind him in the doorway. You felt the fear tug you backwards again, but Gaster kept a tight grip on your hand, and stepped behind you, giving you a clear view of the Horror and all its grotesqueness.

“Here. I am here to help.” Gaster motioned with his free hand, and a keyboard made of orange light appeared in front of you. The Horror stepped forward, slowly again, thinking it won once more. It just needed a few more steps and it would crush the two of you. “Go on. Show the creators what happens when they make a rigged game.” He urged you to the keyboard.

The Horror took another step forward, and you finally reached for the keyboard and pressed the [~] key. The world shimmered before you, growing slightly brighter, and more of the texture seams became visible. Your fear was still thick in your blood as the Horror took another step closer, but you quickly typed a command onto the keyboard and raised two fingers at the Horror, pressing enter and speaking the command.

“Kill.”

The Horror exploded into dust, turning into bright light before vanishing completely. You felt a smile on your face for the first time since the dream started. Your smile grew slightly as you looked at your hands, wondering what else you could do with the Console Commands while you were here. You quickly typed [tg] and tapped the enter button, and grass immediately grew through the tiled ground. You felt yourself giggle and you found yourself typing one string of commands after another, some that you weren’t even sure if they were real commands, but they all seemed to have an effect on the dream you were in.

You took away ceilings, then walls, then toggled the sun on. Gravity was lowered, and all enemies were removed from area- just for good measure. It was just you and Gaster, in a beautiful valley full of grass in broad daylight. You jumped and turned to face him, and he instinctively grabbed your hand to keep you from floating up too far. You used his hand to pull yourself closer to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“... Thank you.” You whispered, and it took a moment before Gaster embraced you back.

“I told you I would help fend off any aliens after you tonight.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t think that was an alien though…”

“It sure was not based off of the alien from the movie, I could tell that much, but I will warn you that I will be insulted if you simply classify that creature as a monster.” Gaster lightly threatened, and you huffed part of a laugh.

“I mean- sure, okay it was an alien. Thank you anyway, Gaster.” You smiled, not able to thank him enough for getting you out of that nightmare. “... How are you here, by the way?” You looked up at him, slowly coming to the conclusion that this was actually Gaster, not just your dream version of him.

“I have a wide range of abilities, including one that allows me to haunt the subconsciousness of others.” He said, keeping his eye halos to the horizon. “When I noticed you having a nightmare, I only meant to observe what it was about- I never intended to get involved.”

“So why did you save me?” You asked, and you could tell he was purposely avoiding looking at you. He was silent for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully.

“I needed to keep my word, that is all.” He settled with, letting go of the hug. You watched him as he kept his head turned away, and give him a light punch. That startled him and he looked down at you.

“Daw, you care about me.” You smiled, and he tried to mask his face with unamusement, though you could see though it. He raised a finger as if he was going to tell you that you were wrong again.

“Correct.” He smiled at your shock at him actually admitting it, seeming to hold back his own laugh. “Though I must admit, I did not do as much as you think I did. I just bought you time to take control of your own dream.” He looked down and brushed his foot through the lush grass.

“What do you mean? You gave me the keyboard.” You bounced slightly, enjoying the low gravity. He watched you, entertained at your lazy floating.

“I gave you the illusion of a keyboard. Nothing but a light show.” He held out his hands, and more orange lights danced between them. “You believed in it, and willed your actions to change your dream. Think of it as… Kickstarting lucid dreaming.” He offered simply, a rather out of character thing for him to do.

“Huh. Well, thank you for that.” You smiled, tapping a finger on your cheek as you gently bounced on one foot. “Would you do me one more favor, since we are here?”

He nodded, seeming to expect you wanting something more of him. “What is your request?”

“Catch me!” You cheered, leaping up into the air and gradually floating backwards.

You heard Gaster’s breath catch and he jumped after you, expertly catching you in a bridal position mid air. After a moment, the two of you gracefully landed onto the soft grass, and you saw Gaster looking at you as you were having giggling fits. You could see him trying to mask a smile on his face as he sighed and shook his head. “So, now what?” You asked between your giggles. He considered a moment before bringing his mouth close to your ear.

“I think it is time to wake up.”

You felt your leg jerk, and your vision spun for a moment before you realized you were still in the living room. The tv was quiet, and the room had long gone cold. You noticed you were still perfectly warm however, as you felt Gaster’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, a hand placed on the back of your neck, keeping you close to his chest. His grip loosened, and he looked down at you with his bright haloed eyes.

“No more nightmares without me, alright?” He asked.

You nodded.