#Afterverse

[mysteriousmayden]

Sorry I haven't been posting lately, school work is getting intense and I needed a break from the screens cuz it was giving me headaches.

Anyways! Here a thing I drew because I love the Starmare chronicles by itsxroxannex and wanted to be apart of it with my version of grumpmare.

Ps - Cream isn't cannon in my multiverse

Mysti belongs to me

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog

Cross belongs to Jakei

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 22: Banking Embers

Okay, so I was so busy patting myself on the back for getting a chapter up that I totally missed that it was the wrong chapter. Insert me smacking myself in the face when @baelpenrose pointed out.

Thankfully everything still applies: a good mix of fluff and machinations, and very much more co-written than beta read. Whew!

When Rome's in ruins

We are the lions

Free of the coliseums

In poisoned places

We are anti-venom

We're the beginning of the end

Tonight

The foxes hunt the hounds

It's all over now

Before it has begun

And we've already won

Fall Out Boy, “Young Volcanoes

Lash

Nils eventually came out of the master suite, carrying a bottle and sniffing it suspiciously. “This isn’t mine.”

I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “White boy hair oil and brown girl hair don’t necessarily work well together. Thank you, I’ll stick it in my bag. Sorry.”

He snatched it back. “Nope. I like it, it’s staying here. In case you need another shower. Only practical. I’ll buy you another bottle on the way to take you home.” 

I smothered a smile as he padded barefoot back to the bathroom, returning seconds later to take his position on the far end of the couch - at some point, we had established ‘our’ seats, although I couldn’t pinpoint when. But his was on the left, mine was on the right. Everywhere. I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Food is ordered - hope saag paneer and double extra garlic naan is okay. I still can’t stomach the idea of meat at the moment.”

“Sounds perfect.” He leaned back in the couch. “So, what was so nuts about my idea that it beats…whatever movie we were going to watch?” 

“I didn’t say it was nuts, I said it was interesting,” I pointed out. “But to your point. Firstly, I am constantly caught off guard by how hopeful you can be for someone who is so pessimistic.  I don’t mean that as an insult, by the way.  But, secondly… I think it could work if - and only if - we think in the very long term.  Not scales of weeks, months, or years, but we’re talking generations.  Lifetimes.”

“A sunrise we’ll never see?” His tone was pensive. “Or in the sense that it will be an ongoing project whose endpoint will take several lifetimes beyond our own?” 

“In the sense that it may not even be the best idea if we live to see the sun finish setting,” I responded as gently as possible. “Studies show that sustainable, lasting change - good or bad - is done over time to gain momentum.”

“Which has the singular downside that I don’t know that’s time we have.” Nils said, thinking. “Behold the climate. There are places we can challenge capitalist control, and places we can replace it, fairly rapidly. We didn’t do it with debts, no, but we proved it could be done, that the system was weaker than people thought, and we got away clean. A lot of why rapid change is impossible to sustain is that the system is too load bearing, so our first play has to be to prove that we can take those loads away - which has the advantage of making us look like winners and making the powers-that-be look like conquerable fools. How many revolutions fail before they start simply because people don’t try? Because they think the system is invincible?”

I reached out and squeezed his thumb affectionately. “Hey, I agree. Keep in mind, I’m not beating the ‘Go Vote’ drum as the be-all-end-all, here.  We can definitely pull away those theoretically load bearing systems, one at a time, provided we are smart about what they are supposed to be propping up and how much we care if those loads crumble. Case in point, the debt heist we just did.”

The familiar, laughing-at-a-far-away-joke smile played about his lips as he looked at me, eyes focused entirely in the moment. “That’s why we’re partners. Never would have worked as well without you. I wouldn’t be trying this without you.” He reached out and gently squeezed my hand. “We can pick our targets carefully, but at some point we’re going to inspire copycats - and those people should have some means of finding us, so that we can guide them a bit, so they don’t fuck it up.” 

I shook my hair out, thinking.  Reaching back, I started twisting it, looking around and finding a pen to shove through it and keep it balanced. “We honestly aren’t all that sneaky, outside of the fact that we are very openly doing this under online personas that are very much hard to trace back to real people.  But I agree, we need something like a council - proxy real people who copy cats can reach out to when we are asleep or busy.  Like… Bishop, for sure. Weasel is out. Bryce may actually be a good option, though.”

Nils shook his head. “He wasn’t reliable to not steal from you and finish the job. He’ll roll over on us for any reward money in a heartbeat.” 

I pointed at him and winked. “Exactly. Bryce is motivated by money, pure, plain, and simple. We know what to watch out for, and we know how to hack him. Weasel… we can’t pay him in enough of his preferred currency to keep him from turning in half a breath. But Bryce?  Has a gambling addiction, a few hundred thousand in student loans, and parents who are always a hair away from cutting him off. If we can redirect some ill-gotten billionaire funds to keep him from getting killed by loan sharks, he’ll be loyal.”

“Point the first: We just torched a huge swathe of student debt, that was literally my original goal. Gambling addiction though, that’s interesting.” I thought about it. “My issue is that if the FBI offers enough he may take a bigger payday from them. Consider it for now, not a hard no. I like Bishop though. And we’re going to want someone to manage the psychopaths a little more directly, ideally someone who understands…frankly, weapons, tactics, and ideally isn’t a racist psychopath I have to string along with mind games.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I suggested, just as the food arrived. “Am I safe to grab that, or should you?”

“I’ll get it.” He got up and headed down to go grab the food at the door. When he got back, he set the food down on the table and set out a plate in front of each of us. “Good call, this stuff smells amazing.”

I smiled. “Thank yew, thank yew. I could eat this every day, mass murder notwithstanding.” I started scooping rice and curry onto my plate before continuing. “So. Yes, we need a council, persons beyond Bishop to be determined. But we also need a figurehead.” With my fork, I pointed at my face vaguely. “Clearly not the person to visibly converse with racists, which are our primary market currently.” I started swirling the tines in his general direction. “However, you? Mr. Rich Boy Who Hates the Rich? Perfect.”

“We have to network with people who will look at my…everything…and know we’re bullshit, though. Ideally, we may want to have two different figureheads, for interacting with different crowds. You for our actual side of things, me for the rowdy and violent crowd? Bear in mind, we’re gonna need actual activists to set up the community shit to take advantage of whatever we do with our pawns.” 

“Activists don’t care what you look like,” I agreed before shoving a chunk of spinach covered cheese in my face and chewing thoughtfully. “But yeah, I can organize the actuals on the back end while you rally the minions in the front.   Right now, front work is going to be our focus.  Did the dead guys have life insurance? Families?”

“Based on chatter? One did. It came up alot.” His tone was unconcerned as he heaped his plate. “Are we thinking hitting life insurance next? For that matter, are we reaching out for a mutual edge? Get payouts for the victims of the fire and the widows and orphans of our retribution? An easy way to reunite “our” forces and get them refocused on the real enemy.” 

I waffled my hand while I chewed on naan. Swallowing I managed to get out, “Kind of both? Don’t get me wrong, if we just wiped out their mortgage and they still bombed the cafe? We can pro-rate that insurance, I know the math.  But also.” I started gesturing with my fork again. “Did you know that, in the absence of a clear beneficiary, most life insurance defaults to the state after three to ten years?  Waste of funds, plus the interest goes to the state, regardless. It’s gross.”

“That is uniquely disgusting,” he said, before shoving a large hunk of naam into his mouth. “Or, I’d say so if I hadn’t heard about. Other theft the state likes doing. But that’s directly addressable, right now.” 

I nodded enthusiastically. “So, you’re picking up what I’m putting down: unclaimed and excessive life insurance. Reroute that shit.”

“Sounds perfectly agreeable to me. To the poor, or to the recently widowed and orphaned of the country? I think both would be…pretty funny.” 

“Tired, poor, and huddled masses,” I toasted with a chunk of naan, rice, and curry. “Fuck the yearning, let’s make them free. Food banks, medical debts - until we can wipe those out - Hey.” I set my food down for a second. “Funnel the funds into a medical debt jubilee? Would that work better, or would another hack work better? We need an accountant or insurance adjuster on staff, I think.”  At this point, I was rambling, but in the groove and happy for once in the last several years.

“Second hack. We drop that kind of cash into the people who are real experts in making it matter the most, they’re legally required to find out who it comes from and how. We’re better off intercepting the shit they can’t buy yet.” Nils was grinning. “We can find an accountant though. Gotta be a way to start dumping money into this machine.” He blushed a bit. “I love seeing you smile again, Lash. For real, not just for cover.” 

I complied with a genuinely enthusiastic, sunny grin, spinach in teeth be damned. “I still think we need a risk-reward specialist on board,” I pointed out. “Keep in mind, we don’t need a licensed adjuster, just a trained one. Think of all the people who get educated in prison and can’t get employed. We can cultivate one, cherry pick.” At this point I was screaming high on endorphins and realized I sounded silly. “Or just… I dunno. Pay one who is willing to take the pay over the ethics. You might be right.”

“You didn’t even wait to hear my objections. I was going to say there’s no one trained for this, because we break that scale at both ends.” He was laughing too. “Then again as we get this council together, we’re probably going to run into that problem a lot if we go as far as we could.” 

I glanced around while I thought, and spotted a surprisingly dusty chess set.  Carefully, I brought it over to the table, set it down, scooted our food over, and sat on the floor. “So here,” I I picked up a king out of the box - it happened to be a white piece, but whatever, it was the first one I saw - “This is basically you.” I set it in place. “You think incredibly well in short term but you put your neck out without caring about the consequences, yes?”

He picked up the black king. “I don’t hate your analysis. But this is the side we’re playing. The system’s had at least one move on us a long time. We’re just moving back to react to the world we’re living in and trying to win anyway. Also, you know you’re setting me up as the piece we can’t win without - that the game ends if they manage to kill me.” He sounded oddly anxious about that concept.

I nodded and fished out the corresponding queen. “In theory, this is me - long term thinking, flexible, but not the figurehead. The movement doesn’t die with me.” Without waiting, I grabbed a bishop. “Obvious. But we need another, so I’m only putting one on the board right now.”  Fully committing to the metaphor, I fished all the pawns out of the box and placed them on the Black side. “These are your pawns. Appropriately, both useful, powerful, and sacrificial.”  To the side, I started setting the rest of the Black pieces. “Here’s what we don’t have.”

“An advisor, two specialists for atypical offense, and two builders to make whatever we want last. Okay.” He took a look. “Not king and queen of much of a court.” He glanced at me. “You were born to be a queen though, even if when we’re done there’s not going to be much in the way of monarchies.” 

I felt my face flush, and turned away so he wouldn’t see it.  Given how many times I had been subjected to similar pickup lines, I mentally scolded myself while I calmed down. Remember all the stupid lines about Nubian queens when you aren’t even from Africa, I asserted. And how many references to Cleopatra left you with a soggy date and an empty cup. “Capitalism, monarchies, whatever,” I managed to get out, “leaders need a council.  I assume you would object if I placed myself as King’s Rook - the one piece that can swap for the King in an assassination attempt in chess - so I accept being Queen. Fair?”

“We didn’t establish that I really bought the model that you’re more expendable than I am to the movement long-term.” He said, obviously thinking about something. “But if I can’t convince you of that, yes, you’re the queen.” 

I grabbed a bite of my now-cold paneer and nodded as I swallowed. “If it helps your conscience at all, these games rarely get far past the Queen being taken, unless you are playing against an absolute master or a total newb.”

He nodded. “Point.” He then proceeded, speaking in a voice somewhere between supervillain and flirting-teasing, with a grin that indicated he had an entirely new thing to tease me with, “So, ‘my queen,’ do you have a particular preference for the rest of our council that we should contact or discuss this evening?”

My face burning, I managed to keep facing him and steadily respond. “Bishop, first. Ask him for suggestions… Beyond him and Weasel, I don’t think we know a lot of the same folks.”  Surrendering, I dropped my forehead into my palm. “And please, for the love of everything, let me sleep on this big, fluffy, gorgeous couch tonight? I don’t want to even think of blaming anything that happens between us, non-professionally, as being due to trauma.”

He snorted. “I was going to be a gentleman and take the couch, let you have the bed, but if you insist on the couch, I’m not going to force you.” 

I started giggling, possibly out of tired delirium. “I flopped on the bed earlier,” I confessed. “It’s hard as a rock, so I will take the couch and suggest you get a softer bed.”

He shrugged, and boxed up what was left of the food. “Ah. Yeah. We can talk about that, if you were coming over here more often. But for tonight, yeah, take the couch. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” 

[baelpenrose]

Nihilus Rex 27: Mind Games

Nils and Lash have some nice, healthy communication. Also, more jokes about mind games and preparation to deal with their enemy, rival and possible ally. As a behind the scenes note, yes, Ottendorf, Altendorf, and Altdorf are all real variants of the same type of cipher, and me and @canyouhearthelight arguing about which one was most in character to use was actually part of the gag that just went into this chapter. Sometimes it's fun writing hopelessly OP characters where we just get to nod obliquely at all the shit our nerdy asses have picked up over the years.

You better be careful what you do

I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes

If they ever found you out

You better be careful what you say

It never really added up anyway

I got friends in this town

Miranda Lambert, “White Liar” 

Nils

Class was boring - I mean, it would have been interesting, especially the political debate that came inherent in the macroeconomic discussion of regulation - but frankly with everything else going on and the plans Lash and I were hatching it felt almost beneath notice. Like a waste of time before we got to the real action.

Our weeb friend was a smarmy son of a bitch, I had to give him that, and trying to trace him took work -  one of the other reasons that I was just as happy to use the challenge and draw him to us. If it worked, it let us keep flying under the radar and gave us a layer of plausible deniability, and if worst came to worst it handed us a convenient option for another patsy if he proved less than tractable.  Lash and I would have to be careful in our eventual conversation with him in how we phrased everything to make sure statements could be read to assume that he was pissed that we were taking credit for his ideas to set it up properly, but it could be done with good planning. Recruit if we could, cash out the option to get the Feds off our backs if we couldn’t - because we were going to need to deal with the fibbie at some point either way.

I shared the thought with Lash to get her thoughts, and see if we could begin establishing how we wanted to lay in that contingency. “Hey, so it occurs to me, if we can’t recruit this guy, we may want to have some kind of setup to feed him to the feds when we encounter him, let them think we were just doing some dumb, edgy marketing for our totally-legal activism and the actual ‘economic terrorist’ got pissed at us for trying to take the credit. If we can’t get him on our side, better not to have him in the way, right?” 

She looked thoughtful for a moment - or more accurately, like she was plotting - before asking slowly, “How likely would we be to frame him for some of the shit we’ve done? Even just stuff we did before we met?”

“I’d have to look at his profile a little more closely, but bear in mind that the hack itself doesn’t really match the profile of either of our usual patterns, and nothing we did before that rises to the level where the federal government cares enough to pay attention.” 

“I took money from Microsoft and donated it to charity,” she pointed out. “Repeatedly.  That would definitely land on the news, at least.”

“Right,” I said, taking a breath, trying to steady myself, “and let’s not get into my thefts from social media and various databombings on their harvested userdata, BUT that followed a very different profile than the bank job, which is what we knew drew their attention - they’re looking for the people who’d run the bank job, not people who are little more than thieving horseflies buzzing around the heads of corporate titans and taking a few drops here and there that said corporations never notice enough to report.” It was an unpleasant truth - we’d stolen probably tens of thousands between us, but not all at once, and in increments that the corporations we’d robbed could lose to rounding error. 

“Hey, you said you wanted him fed to the Fed, not to go down for the loans,” she shrugged. “Wire fraud across state lines is still FBI-worthy.  Not to mention that many counts.” Lash started silently ticking off on her fingers before staring at them and nodding. “Yeah, plenty of counts, for sure.”

“Fair. I’m worried they’re looking for the bank robbers and we have someone we can give them as a patsy. So when we meet with him, let’s feel him out and make sure any statements we have are set up so they can be misread as him trying to find out if we’re stealing credit for his work, yeah?” 

“Can do.” She snapped off a sarcastic salute before grabbing my elbow and semi-forcing me to slow down. “Either way, our ‘viral marketing campaign’ is ready to go as soon as you set up the location for the final clue.  So, make sure your sandbox is as secure as possible so we don’t get any bugs in there.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll have it ready in an hour. Want me to order some pizza while I do it?”  I had an extra tab open while I was getting the proxy networks set up and sketching out the ciphers for the clues.

“One meat lovers, one spinach and bacon, coming up,” she agreed, pulling out her phone. “Don’t forget to write down the address for me once it’s ready so I can translate it a couple times and hide it in the last clue.”

“Yeah, babe, I know, we’ve been picking at this for a minute.” I said, softly smiling. I wondered if she knew she talked to me the way her mom talked to her dad. I had almost finished the third cipher we were going to be doing it with. “Think three will be enough, or should we do four? At five it feels obnoxious, but if he wasn’t too paranoid to be hooked with fewer than three, he’d be a piece, not a player.” 

“Forty five minutes until food,” Lash announced before looking up. “I’m going to translate it at least twice - once to hex and once to… I dunno, a sound frequency maybe? So four should be fine on your end for the ciphers.”

“You got it. Altdorf code it is.” 

“Altendorf,” she corrected, scrunching her face at what she thought was a deliberate mistake on my part.

“Nope. Altdorf. Right wing computer nut, probably also a gamer. Altdorf code is a memetic variant on the classic Altendorf book cipher, named for a thing in a game franchise popular with that crowd.” I replied, smirking. Dating a girl who knew as much cryptography as I did was a blast, but it was occasionally fun to flex on each other. Loved it when she caught me out, as she often did, but it was sometimes fun to catch her off too. 

“Freaking nerd,” she half-mumbled, knowing good and well I would hear her. “But if it works, it works.  Provided he figures out all the clues I’m laying out.”

“And then we put all this effort into this to show off for each other for nothing…” I muttered, watching her work over what she did as I finished up selecting a handful of games, books, and comics to cipher off of, with arc numbers for each and internally contained clues within the cipher to hint at what the target should be using for the Altdorf code. Nonsensical to anyone who didn’t understand it, but comprehensible to anyone who did - if you understood the rest of the cyphers it was under, of course. 

“Ew, eyewatering,” she grunted before adjusting something. It must have worked, because she was able to actually look at the screen when she was done. “And now for the clouds…”

“Those clouds look awful.” I said, idly thinking out loud. “Really bloated, data-wise.” 

“That would be because they are compressed audio tracks,” she confirmed. “Which, when unzipped and played, give the hex code.  But yeah, they’re ugly, aren’t they?” The door buzzed and she looked at her phone. “Pizza’s here.”

“Ah.” I stood up and got the pizza, tipping the guy. After he left I turned back to Lash. “So, now we wait. Trap is baited and set with a challenge for a new ally or an enemy we can get rid of quickly. Speaking of the question as to what we do if he is a new ally: thoughts on how we get rid of the fed? She’s poking around the white supremacist scene, and stirring them up harder might lead to more of them poking around if she gets shot.” 

Lash rubbed her face before getting up to get plates. “My first instinct is to lay low and monitor.  Right now, there’s no actual evidence tying us to the situation, so monitoring would be the most conservative and safest call in the immediate future.  And it gives us time to plan something in the event we do need to intervene.”

I nodded as I poured drinks for both of us. “Yeah. Fair point. Give him about two days, then we’ll meet him together. Two options, either he thinks the whole made up names thing is actually bullshit, in which case he’ll want to meet both of the people he’s working with and we can establish a triumvirate, or he thinks it’s for real and is playing like he thinks it's dumb, then he’ll want to meet with the heads of both groups, which means we’ll need you there to rep one of them. What angles we play depends on what angle he hits us with.” I was still thinking about the way we could feel that out while also maintaining the option to sacrifice him and dispose of him to the feds if he wasn’t amicable to a team up, but honestly that was mostly just a matter of careful phrasing. 

“If it comes to that, as long as I am repping the Icono-whatsits, I’m good.”

“No, I thought we’d have the brown, anarchic immigrant’s daughter represent the carefully crafted illusion of the violently traditionalist ones who want to restore ‘traditional values’ because that would totally make the con hold up. Tell you what, when we take it global, and we have to do this in India, THEN we swap roles and you have to play a Hindutava nationalist and pretend to be a Disciple chick. For today, the heel role is mine.” 

She set her plate down with a loud clatter, glaring at me as she stood up. “And on that completely uncalled-for note, I think I need to head home for a few days.  Let me know if he gets in contact, and we’ll go from there.”

I sighed, realizing what I’d done wrong, then felt a surprising flash of irritation - at her, at myself, at the fact that every time we started getting closer I said something obnoxious and that we never just got a few weeks without some shit happening. “You know what? Yeah. I’m sorry. That was unnecessarily rude. If you want to go home, I get it, but please eat first, or at least take some pizza with you. I shouldn’t have been that much of an asshole - I’ve been jittery since the Fed showed up, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. Know you can’t pass yourself off as a white supremacist, I mostly wanted to joke around about the fact that as this goes global, we may have to practice swapping roles for other countries. That’s all.” 

Lash took a deep breath and picked up one of the pizza boxes. “I know it will eventually be necessary for me to be the bad guy, but seriously. What part of this,” she waved a hand over herself, stopping to gesture emphatically at her face, “in any way says I won’t just blow our entire ass cover if I try to be a white supremacist? It’s not like I’m shirking work or something.”  The free hand shoved her hair back and she exhaled. “I think we just need a couple days to get actual sleep and calm down.”

“You aren’t shirking work, I know.” I said, trying to take a breath. “I’ve just been…I’ve been constantly trying to figure out every possible angle we can take this from, because I want to keep us out of trouble and keep the feds away, keep this prick away from your family, keep everything under control. I said something sarcastic that I thought was funny because yeah, obviously this,” I gestured at her, “was not going to be playing the white supremacist, this,” I gestured at my own face, “was. And I wasn’t looking forward to it. And it isn’t your fault I’ve been obsessively plotting, I haven’t been telling you all of it, but it’s been all of the babbling about contingencies I’ve been doing since the fed arrived. Because I’ve been afraid. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” True, but I did also want her to see my perspective of how much effort I was putting into this whole thing.  “And if you need me to give you a ride home tonight, I will, but seriously take a pizza. Because it’s too late for you to be walking home.” 

The pizza box in her hand dropped back to the table and she growled in frustration. “UGH! And all the shit with Uber and taxis lately…” She fell back into what had become her seat on the couch. “Fine. But I’m sleeping out here. In clothes, so don’t get any ideas, buster.”

“We didn’t have time to go mattress topper shopping, so you’ll probably sleep better, and I’m insisting on plenty of blankets. And you’re eating your share of pizza.” I shrugged. “And even my Catholic ass won’t feel guilty about you being too damn stubborn to take a ride I’m offering.” 

“No ride. I refuse to owe you,” she spat before biting viciously into a slice of pizza, shoving half of it into her mouth without a trace of grace.

“And thus, couch, blankets, and coping aplenty.” I said, sitting down. “You okay, Lash?”

“I am sleep deprived, stressed about the apartment being ready when my parents are discharged next week despite knowing that Mori has had it ready since the day after she got here, and I’m mad at you for being a jerk.”

“Mori took care of the apartment, you know it, you know you know it. You’re going to sleep better tonight, and I’m sorry for being a dick.” I said, coaxingly. “Things are going to be alright. Let’s eat, brush our teeth, then we can rack out, okay?” 

“Fine,” she muttered, demolishing another slice of pizza.

I wasn’t certain what it said about my life - or life, in general - that “relationship issues” were causing me slightly more confusion and headaches than “FBI investigation” and “rival terrorist” combined. It definitely said something, but I wasn’t entirely certain what. Maybe it was a me problem. Maybe if I wasn’t dating someone who would do terrorism with me I wouldn’t have this problem.

But then it wouldn’t be worth it. 

[c0smic-petals]

Hello everyone! First post on tumblr ^^

This is a character design or my friend’s ( @idomybest12 ) au. This is afterverse (post-incident) dream or in this au his nickname is phoenix. If you want to know more about them my friend will post more about the au soon.

Spoilers and art for later in the story below cut

The black thing on his left side is his arm, it’s all corrupted/shadowy.

He’s kind of the worst but I still like him ❤️

[idomybest12]

Chapter 1 - Beginning - Afterverse au

Duce's Pov: I've always heard rumors of the Negative guardian and Positive guardian that live on the hill, never have I thought I'd meet them. I've heard so many tales of Phoenix, the guardian of positivity being this hero that saved them all from the other, Blackwell. I mean, I don't want Papyrus to worry... "Hey Papyrus?" I called for my brother who was getting orders prepared. "What's up?" He asked, while coming down with 2 boxes. "Need something?" "I was wondering if I could help you with some orders today, I mean I know you have a lot to deliver, and I just-" I felt his cold skeleton hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, I could use the help..." He said looking at thousands of boxes. "Business has been pretty good, though it is much harder to deliver these orders...." Papyrus read through the weapons and addresses as he wrote down some of the addresses handing it to me. "Here's some of the orders, I'll be on the other side of town, be safe Duce." Papyrus warned. With that I went out the door with small boxes in my hand taking them all over the place. After what felt like 30 minutes, which was more like 6 hours, I was done. I walked home when I noticed a crowd forming, I see an extremely bright light, blinding. I get a better look and then I hear it, the crowd yelling over and over; "Phoenix!" I realized then it was the "hero" of the town, and I just continue on my way home, knowing that Papyrus was probably waiting for me.

As expected I see spaghetti on the table with Papyrus in the living room watching the news. "Hiya bro!" Papyrus casually waved, welcoming me inside. "Heh, did you hear about what happened to the Italian chef last night?" He asked me, as if he hasn't told me this joke over and over. "I don't know, what happened?" I sarcastically responded. "He pasta-way-!" He cracked up at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes as I sit down to eat the Spaghetti on the table. It tasted better than usual. After eating I set the plate in the sink as I sit next to my brother.

"So.. I was wondering, since you have had experience making weapons, can you show me how?" I questioned. I heard a sigh, and I knew what he was going to say... "Duce listen, the thing was, it's been years since I last crafted a weapon, and you know how he is.." He sighed, the 'he' he was referring to was Ink or most people called him Arther, not only did he design weapons, but he also crafted them, he liked to work alone, but was cheery to customers.

"I can try to convince him, Duce." Papyrus said, "not guaranteed though." He rubbed my skull, "Well, it's late, I'm going to go to bed, good night Duce!" Papyrus headed to his messy room. I wondered how he could stay in that pig stye he called a room.

[toby-du-coeur]

minally and sonyariset war au: rarepair bingo 2024

@mazerunner-rarepairs

Rating: Explicit

Minho comes and stands beside him · smoke-smelling · "You good?" he asks, tight Gally already told him he was good, by the fire · Minho shouldn’t be here Gally realises he’s on his feet, arms around Minho, face buried in his shoulder · Minho’s pressing his head into Gally like a cat · They’re both shuddering hard "Fuck off, Min," Gally grits out · holding onto him tighter "What, no gratitude for the shank who saved your life?" The quip lands completely hollow, with a hysteric edge like he’s gonna burst into laughter or tears Gally says, very even, "A thousand thanks" · Minho’s warmth is seeping into him, and his breaths hurt his chest · "I’m fine" · If he doesn’t immerse himself back in the cold night and the silence, he’s gonna fucking snap "And I’m a shuck Griever" · Minho reaches up and cups the back of Gally’s neck, the taped-on gauze, real gentle

[deltastriker]

Rock Bottom

Almost a decade after the city of Mahri Nui sank into the sea, the Matoran who live there discover a new and dangerous threat from the deepest depths.

Rock Bottom features a mixed cast of canon and fanon characters in the watery setting of Mahri Nui. It remixes the story of '07 while maintaining the dark and moody atmosphere of Mahri Nui and the Pit.

You can read Rock Bottom in full on the Custom Bionicle Wiki, or follow its weekly releases on Ao3:

Rock Bottom on the Custom BIONICLE Wiki

Rock Bottom on Ao3

(Banner image credit @invader39)

[always-a-joyful-note]

@lady-merian Sorry for replying in post but....KNOW HIM??!?! YEAH I KNOW HIM!!!!

He is literally one of my favourite authors. The way I SCREAMED when after two or so years of silence we heard from him again (with relief that he was all right).

I strive to match his chaotic writing style, his balance of emotional beats and ridiculous humour, the way he looks at his plot and goes "actually, we need more threads," the way he blends genres of portal and time travel and gaslamp fantasy and westerns and and and.....and also the way he shows his love for literary mythos (he has done his RESEARCH) with not just fairy tales and myths but also childrens lit and gothic fiction (the jekyll and hyde short story!!! the hints of dracula we're going to get in the next crockett and crane book).

Seriously, I love how he will make you cry with laughter and then actually just cry, but also how despite how heavy his books can get plot-wise, there's such a thread of lightness and fun even during the darker moments. Also absolutely obsessed with how all his characters will commit theft, arson, crimes against the time stream continuum and multiverse, and still believe they're the most sane of their group.

Sorry, this got a little rambly but I really love KRS.

[cupids-valentina]

Little AU Idea.

Undertale aus, they kinda exist y'know? And I've been thinking abt making one for a while. Underfell, UnderLust, ____Tale, Xtale. Kind of interesting a small indie game managed to create an ever-expanding ever perpetuating fanbase like that. So, if you're interested in my incoherent rambling.

Imagine you're Sans, specifically an UnderSwap Sans. Blue, your nickname is. And you're forced into a multiversal war. You're family, the people in your home are either dusted, dying, or by some miracle, barely surviving the fallout. You travel from universe to universe with others who have been ripped from their homes. A red, edgy Sans. A calm, cyan Sans. A melancholic, galaxy Sans, and their supposed leader, the 'saviour and protector' of the multiverse, an Ink Sans. Imagine you're travelling with them for some time now. Seeing universes being created and destroyed all by a singular person's whim. Millions of billions of humans and thousands of monster lives can vanish in an instant, if this Ink, and his so-called league of creators, wanted them to. Imagine you've been living your life. It wasn't the best sure, but it was what you could ask for. A loving family and friends who you had failed over and over in resets, vowing to protect them from or with the human of your world, clinging to the faint hope that you matter. That they matter. Only for it to be snatched away, as your universe, your home, is destroyed in a matter of minutes. And why?

"It's all just a game!"

"Because it's so interesting?!"

"I wonder what would happen if..."

Voices from high, low, all over. Whisper and taunt, create and destroy, throw their lives away with reckless abandon. And ultimately, bring them back, just to bring his life, his, no, the multiverse, back to square fucking one.

It would hurt, wouldn't it? Knowing that your life doesn't matter, that all your sacrifices, how hard you tried to protect those you love and those you don't even know but were undeniably in need of saving. Imagine that, for all of that to happen, for your multiverse and existence to be driven to the very brink of collapse, only to wake up the next morning, in your bed. In your universe. Underground, under Mt. Ebbot. 4:30 in the morning.

What would you do?

[beejuicey]

Some art of Phoenix from Afterverse, an AU by @idomybest12 !!

Check out @c0smic-petals as well!! She drew the design!!

[phillyzinefest]

Philly Zine Fest vendors 2023 pt. 1

A.j. Michel Aaron Novik Addison Paige Illustrates Alex G Carol Illustrations Alex Moonsang Alex Smith/The Afterverse Angela Hsieh ANGST FACTORY Ash Anathema Audra Stang Bandaid Fingers Bemoodieart BLACK BUDGET COMIX Blake Wood BlurredPress Body Joke Boink Comix Bonk Brain Gramage Comix Bread Comics Brian McAnany Brianna Protesto and Marisa Watanabe Bryn Ziegler Budget Press Bum Lung C. Larsen/ Steve Theuston Cadavercandyart Caffeinated Giraffe Cameron Orr Can I Get Baloney Carmen Pizarro Caroline Cash CC Riot Enterprises cherrysodas Cindy Lozito Circle Puppy Comix Claire Deely Comics by Eva Corey Bechelli Cyborg Memoirs Dan Hill Destiny Hall-Harper Displaced Snail Divine Jones/ Divi_nation Dog Bowl Zine Club DoodleCat Creations Dox Thrash House Drawrenn Dre Grigoropol

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilous Rex 20: Demands

Lash is trying to moderate her reaction to her parents being injured.

This is a woman who is deeply attached to her parents.... so yeah, @baelpenrose did have to rein me in a bit.

Life ain't always beautiful

You think you're on your way

And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day

But the struggles makes you stronger

And the changes make you wise

And happiness has its own way of takin' its sweet time

Gary Allan, “Life Ain’t Always Beautiful”

Lash

Mama was rasping, and the doctors weren’t happy about her oxygen levels, but they took her off the ventilator and gave her a mask instead.  Baby steps that may as well have been tremendous milestones when my only hope was that she survived this. I squeezed her right hand - when had it become so fragile? - while Mori rubbed the left.  Weaponized love to keep her from taking the hateful mask off.

“Baba,” she managed to get out, just loud enough for us to understand.

“They are doing circulation tests on this leg,” Mori explained, avoiding the reason behind the tests in an attempt to save Mama from worrying.

Regardless, Mama’s eyes went wide, wild.  Her head thrashed side to side between us. “The boy.”

Mori’s eyes flicked to me, and I nodded firmly. “Nils is fine, Mama. He was wearing protection for his motorbike. Scrapes and a couple burns at worst.”  I looked back to Mori and explained, “Nils. You met him earlier. He was caught in the same blast as Baba. But his clothing protected him.”

My sister nodded vigorously in understanding. “Yes. He is fine, Mama. Walking, talking. He made sure that everyone’s medical costs are covered.”

I could see Mama trying to force out more words, and just bit the proverbial bullet. “The baby is fine, as is his mother.  Only three people didn’t make it, and we have already spoken to Auntie Yildiz… Uncle Ahmet did not make it.” I refused to tell her about Imran.  I still could not believe he was gone, even with his wife Fatima haunting the hospital with the face of someone who was holding themself together by sheer force of will.  But Ahmet’s widow would be by soon to see Mama, and I didn’t want her to be shocked.

My phone abruptly buzzed and I glanced at it. Nils was texting. “They have news about your dad’s leg.”

“Mama, Mori, I need to step out. I’ll be right back.” I kissed the hand I was holding and nodded at my sister before slipping out of the room. I almost ran smack into my shadow, who was clearly waiting for me to step out.

Never a good sign.

“They wouldn’t tell me what it was, because I’m not ‘next of kin’ and they’re gonna be sticklers about policy, especially since they can’t be happy with us. I can take you to the people who can tell you, but…Lash, I’d…prepare for some bad news, about whether he keeps it. I know the doc working on him and he looked pretty grim.” Nils’ voice was tense. “I’m sorry, Lash.” 

I waved him away absently. “Doctors don’t want to share scary or bad news. They will violate HIPPA for good news.  As soon as you said they wouldn’t tell you, I knew the leg was toast.  Let’s go find out how far up.” I marched with purpose towards Baba’s room, uncaring of how angry I looked.

Nils trailed behind me, looking apprehensive. A doctor and a nurse were talking to Baba, who seemed to be somewhat more lucid. Nils winced when he heard the conversation. “They’re going over informed consent for the amputation, now that saving the leg failed.” 

I gathered myself and spoke as clearly and loudly as I dared. “I am Elashki Botelho, his youngest daughter. I know you do not need my permission for this surgery, but his wife and my mother is down the hall and I need to be prepared to tell her what is going on. Please tell me.”

The doctors glanced at Baba and, once he nodded, they explained. His leg needed to be amputated right above the knee, minimum, due to prolonged lack of oxygen. All the tissue in his calf and foot were either dead or dying. I blinked back tears, despite the feeling that I was trying to force whole bees into my eyes. “Thank you.”  I turned to Baba. “This will save your life.  We want you more than we want any money or pride.  Please consent.”  With that, I spun on my heel and left the room as fast I could while retaining any shred of dignity.

I whipped out my phone and started stabbing at it frantically.  Nils made a gesture to take it from me, and I growled with a feral tone I hadn’t realized I possessed. “I am telling Mori that she needs to pee and to meet me here. Giving my mother a panic attack while she is barely off a ventilator is idiotic. No woman ever questions the need to urinate.  Reach for my phone again, and I will bite you.”

Nils blinked. “Ah.” He stood silently for a moment. “I’ll wait here, and…Yeah. Go talk to your sister.” 

Mori arrived a few minutes later, and I explained that Baba would need his leg amputated. As I expected, she immediately sat in a nearby chair and started crying.  Once she caught her breath, I gripped her shoulder hard enough to grab her attention. “Mori. If they don’t do this, he’ll die. And we both know Mama may not survive that.”

Immediately, she sat bolt upright and shook her head. “Oh, hell no. Take it at the hip, I don’t care so long as that means he makes it.”

If nothing else, my family was practical. “They are going for above the knee with a prosthetic. We’ll see after that.”

“But does his insurance cover - “

I almost started to tell her that his insurance covered whatever the fuck I said it covered, but Nils beat me to it.

“Watch evening news reruns. We got hospital admins to agree that every victim of this horrible tragedy will ‘of course’ be helped free of charge.” His voice took on a cold note. “By telling the news that’s what was happening and daring the hospital to disagree with the free PR. He’s covered.”

I rushed to clarify. “That doesn’t mean he is completely secure. But, he is their best radiology tech, the only one who can keep peds patients from squirming. That has to hold some value.  We just have to support him adapting to any prosthetics.”

Mori groaned, loudly. “Baba hates assistance. He’s doomed.”

I chutted at her and corrected. “Baba hates not being independent.  We have to maintain that prosthetics are independence, not help.  I need you on my side on this, more than anything.”

Nils made a point that was simultaneously deeply morbid and exactly what I needed to get my sister’s help. “Lack of independence - or more accurately, men being stubborn about it and just giving up on surviving if it requires accepting help - kills more men recovering from wounds than basically anything else. There’s a reason so many older men buy it within a month or two of going incontinent. Women tend to be a lot less teeth-shatteringly obnoxious about the whole thing, and tend to outlive their husbands by a large margin. Helping him maintain independence matters.” 

I hugged Mori and stood. “I am going in there and asking him if he wants osteointegration or sockets. No option for not amputating. If he argues, I will scream this hospital down until they let Mama scream at him directly.  She’s dedicated over thirty years of her life to keeping Baba alive, she has earned the privilege.”

Nils broke in with a bit of characteristic irritation. “We are absolutely not getting your mother involved, right to or no. Woman just got off a ventilator and they JUST got her lungs and airways working properly again. She’s not doing any screaming for a while.”

I whipped around and stared him dead in his soul - or what substituted for one. “You are more than welcome to try to stop her. We will stand back and laugh as you fail.”

Mori nodded and blessed his attempt at stopping her. “Mama does what she knows is the will of her god. If she dies scolding Baba, he will never live down the shame.”

Nils gave me a long, slow look. “I can help with this. I grew up catholic, I know everything about guilt trips. Let’s go see if we can’t convince him to NOT waste all the effort we already put into saving him and his wife. Let’s start with that BEFORE we bring in the big guns of your mom coming in to literally scream herself to death.” 

I glanced at Mori and swatted my hand in an ‘I’ll explain later’ sort of way. Then we went into the room. 

“Baba. Are you going to have the sockets or the osteointegration for the prosthetic?” I asked matter-of-factly.

“They cannot take my leg,” he grumbled. “They will save it.”

I grabbed the leg in question as tightly as I could, devastated when he didn’t even flinch. “Baba. They cannot save it. You should hurt, but you don’t even notice. Let them take the leg, and discuss the best prosthetic for you.”

Baba threw the closest thing to him - an empty cup- as hard as he could across the room, only to yield a dull thud and some clattering.

“Children throw things,” Mori chided. “You are grown and a man. You are better than this.”

“Grown men have two legs!” he shouted, waving to dismiss us.

I move my grip up to pinch his hip painfully. “Grown men do not need help, yes. But if you do not agree to this, you are choosing to leave Mama - “

“I WOULD NEVER LEAVE HER!” he roared.

I nodded. “Then you will have this surgery. So you do not leave Mama. I am glad we agree.” He went to open his mouth again, so I started speaking. “I have looked in many support groups, and they agree that a socket is the best way to start. Can you imagine? Talking to children in short legs, looking at them eye to eye? They will be thrilled.”

“I am only losing one leg,” he argued.

“And some of them are losing one, maybe two,” Mori added. “Won’t they feel better to see you with only one foot?”

I watched his heart break - for my mother, for his patients. This man, not just my father, but the reassurance of so many children in the last twenty years. “I cannot leave your mother to fight alone, and I cannot leave these children thinking this is the end of the world.  Cara - she has leukemia. If I cannot survive losing a leg, how do I expect her to?”

As I sat back, I let a huge breath leave my body. “Thank fuck - sorry - but my next option was bringing in Mama.”

He sat bolt upright. “Your mother is in a respirator, don’t you DARE risk her life to yell at me!”

Nils waved a hand. “That’s what I said. They told me that I couldn’t stop her, so I could be an intermediate step. With all the knowledge of guilt that a catholic upbringing provides.” 

“Mama is willing to die to yell at you if it’s the last thing you’ll ever hear,” Mori stated flatly. “Both or neither, you don’t get the luxury of an afterlife without her.”

We all started cackling as Baba dove for the call button. “SOCKETS!” he screamed. “SOCKETS OR MY WIFE WILL KILL US BOTH!”

[baelpenrose]

Nihilus Rex 33: Evasions and Reversals

This chapter has a couple things: first off, it was my chance to do something I have always wanted to do and play with the idea of secret identities from the villain end, especially when you can use conspiracy theory gaslighting as part of your cover. It also sets up an ongoing gag with Nils and Lash being...well, you'll see. CW for a very long chain of kink jokes.

Co written as always by the brilliant @canyouhearthelight I apologize for the late posting, I was very busy last night and didn't get to posting this.

No stone left uncovered

Out by the light of the moon

Hell will be coming soon

Yeah hell will be coming soon

Toby Lightman, “Long, Hard Day”

Nils

The local chatter was more and more frantic about an FBI agent with a whole lot of warrants showing up. Fortunately a bunch of the men had already been signaled to destroy their hard drives and utilize intelligent VPNs to prevent detection - thank God I’d thought ahead. Still, it was a stalling tactic, because that level of organization would make her take the problem more seriously, not less, meaning we’d eventually have a bigger problem on our hands with the Feds. I was eventually going to need to give her a patsy of some kind, and ideally find a way of convincing her it tied up cleanly.

Weasel, maybe. 

No, for all that he was a pasty little bitch, I didn’t know that anyone would buy he was a…hm. Actually. Hang on, that was a thought. The key though, was that if he was alive when discovered he might roll over on me and Lash and that would be a problem. Dead, he couldn’t talk, and making sure he died first -  ideally by suicide so that it looked like he’d aced himself when the jig was up - would be a trick.  

Convincing her that there was in fact an angry incel who was furious that all the hot girls were going out with nonwhite guys because feminism had given them standards, or whatever, might do it, but that required that it be believable he’d orchestrated the attack - and maybe, maybe it was believable for him to have hacked the banks but not for him to have gotten other guys to go shoot the place. Unless he was using a fake….No, wait. I wasn’t going to let him be fake-me. Not even to get the fibbies off my trail. Instantly I saw another problem. If the Feds arrested anyone for this, there would be a percentage of the population I needed to win over that would see that person as the actual actor in the situation, meaning that I - or my more dramatic persona, Nihilus Rex - would lose credibility, which in turn killed my momentum. 

Fuck. 

I remembered, ruefully, when I thought any part of this would be simple. 

I finally stood up from my desk, glancing at the clock and realized that I’d been setting up proxy networks and trying to figure my way out of this for the better part of four hours. I glanced at my phone, realized Bishop had texted, and called him back. 

“Goddamnit, Creampuff, what’d I say about calling me?”

“Good morning to you too, Bishop.”

“It’s afternoon.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Bishop. What did you text me about?”

“Your psychopath.”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Check what he did on the boards.”

“Oh…” Resigning myself to a truly miserable day, I hung up and looked at whatever the hell Gray had gotten up to, and found, to my surprise, that it actually wasn’t…that bad? Or well, it was bad but in a useful way instead of the kind of bad that I was going to have to fix. There were now indicators of radicalization happening somewhere else, flaring up, using terminology that didn’t mirror ours.

“Ruckus in the east, war in the west…” I muttered. Could have done it a bit differently, but if the FBI was going to look one way or another…might as well split up their focus. Now, to see what we could do about starting a few more fires, since the stochastic terrorism on a few other fronts was getting just a little too obnoxious for my tastes.  Or, at least a little too one-sided.

Westboro Baptist Church - famously homophobic, famously hateful to veterans and their families, famously hateful to gays, famously just awful. That was something to deal with - I put a pin in the idea of building a botnet for SWATTING a target. 

Then I left the room, still trying to think of what I’d do with the FBI agent. Honestly, the Weasel thing was probably the best solution, I just had to make sure I knew a way of foreshadowing it to the crowd - maybe by proxy, ensuring everyone knew or memetically believed, that Nihilus Rex wasn’t an incel, thus when someone was arrested with connections (even fabricated ones) to that network, no one who I needed to win over or maintain credibility with would believe it.

The issue of course was that doing THAT required, frankly, sexualizing my persona more than I wanted to and in ways that did not appeal to me. Even more precisely, it required some ability to publicly link that persona with sexual…

Goddamnit. 

Here I was trying to avoid going public before I was ready, but…wait. Another option was slithering its way through my mind already. A whole lot of people were already linking the “heroes of the hour” from as the potential badasses behind a whole lot more - but no one, definitely not the FBI, were considering that as anything more than rumor - and I was being excruciatingly careful to keep it that way, push the narrative that it was just a conspiracy in a way that made a lot of people convinced it was our cover story and would keep law enforcement away.

Meanwhile, we could…

Okay. Okay. Me and Lash could definitely afford to go out walking publicly, being obviously into each other, being visible, but maybe - crank up the obvious. Lean into some of the activist look. Make it less subtle what scenes we were playing in. Signal to those who were paying attention and slide under the radar for those who weren’t.

Then hand over Winston as a patsy and make sure he was dead by the time the FBI actually got him. That would work. 

I picked up the phone and dialed Lash.

“Hey. There’s supposedly a party on campus in a few days. How do you feel about going with me?”

“Depends,” she answered, slightly distracted. “LAN party, college party, rave…?”  Suddenly she whisper-shouted “Yes, it’s Nils. Yes, I’ll tell him you said hello. Yes, he’s eating.” A sound like a door closing abruptly clicked. “Mama says hello.”

“Your mom’s great.” I said, then paused. “It’s more of a college party than anything. And it’s a ‘work-opportunities' party. A ‘you-and-I-there-on-a-date-party,’  An ‘us being there publicly in this capacity is beneficial to our plans in ways we ought to discuss in person’ party.’”

“Sounds like a great idea.  Just let me know when so I can have Fatima come by while I’m gone.” 

“This Friday night. I only just got the invitation.” Please, love, get the hint that this idea just happened. 

“That’s plenty of time,” she laughed. “I was worried it was in, like, an hour.  Anyone I know going to be there?”

Yep, she got the message.  “A few of our classmates from Econ, a bunch from Polisci. A bunch of the college webshow people, at a guess, which means we’re gonna wind up on camera again, given our status as local celebrities.” Signal, signal. 

“I’ll be sure to have my face on, then.” She paused and hummed for a minute. “Sexy-demure, or straight up slutty? Probably demure, can’t look like I’m milking the spotlight.”

“Whatever makes you feel beautiful and powerful at the same time, Lash. We’re going for that look.” You know the one. 

“Gotcha. Those boots kill my feet, but god do they look good.  Gonna have to invest in something with flatter soles if you keep taking me out like this,” she teased.

“Fair enough. I’m excited for this. You’re gonna look amazing, whatever you’re in.” I said, grinning. I could imagine the smirk on her face as she talked. “Plus, we can go somewhere fun after, away from the cameras…”

Another click that sounded suspiciously like a door. “Don’t tempt me to wear a skirt with those boots.  I know you’re going for a certain look, and there is nowhere near as much leather in my wardrobe as there is in yours.  I will torture you all night if you keep it up.”

“That is very much the goal, and depending on what kind of torture you mean, I might be open to experiments…” 

There was that laugh I loved hearing. “Let’s start with being obviously a couple, and work our way up to exhibitionism, okay?”

I blinked, wondering where my kinky implication had been misread. “That was not in fact…” Gift horses, Nils. “Never mind, you know what? Working our way up is totally good with me.” 

“What time Friday?” she asked, pulling me back to the actual topic at hand.

“Starts at 8. The humanities building, apparently, though it’s likely to spill into the plaza.” I said, confidently. “Plenty of room.” 

“Oooo, on campus.  Super visible and public, you weren’t kidding.”

“Eyeah. We’re going public together.” With all that entails. “At the very least, I’m sure Weasel won’t be there.” 

I could practically hear her shudder at that.  “Gods, I hope not.”

“Oh, I think we can mellow on him just a little. We’ve finally found a use.” There was that little edge of amusement in my voice that indicated I was planning something. 

“Sure….” She sounded suspicious, but it was somewhat understandable. It wasn’t like I had told her what I was planning, although I was pretty sure she would be on board.  She’d practically suggested something similar previously, after all.

“How’s your dad doing?” I said, changing the topic. Better to leave the plans for later. 

“Surprisingly cooperative.  I think the one time he pushed himself too hard with the temporary prosthetic, he learned his lesson.  He won’t be waltzing anytime soon, but I don’t think I ever saw him dance before, so….”

“Fair enough. And your mom? I should be coming over more often to visit and check in, I suppose.” 

“For the love of all that you hold dear, don’t do that.  They barely let Fatima take care of them, and that’s only because the girls distract them.  If you came by, they would insist on being good hosts, and Mama is still not up to standing for the amount of time it takes to cook.  Baba goes back to work soon, so he’ll probably be easier to deal with after that. They’re both just so bored.”

“Gotcha. Would they be more okay with it if I came over with food and then just sat and talked with them? I’d be open to doing that. Or if we both just sat and talked with them?” 

“Maybe,” she confessed hesitantly. “But you would have to be very insistent that they let me get drinks, plates, all that.  It’s okay to scold me into doing it, I know you don’t mean it and it will make them more likely to listen so I don’t quote ‘anger you’ end quote.”

“Okay nope.” I said, feeling a flash of exasperation. “Yeah, okay, Lash. At some point we’re gonna talk about the gendered courtship expectations within your culture and the willingness I have to play along with them, because doing anything to avoid ‘angering me’ or scolding you into doing domestic stuff isn’t really my thing -”

“Calm down,” she interrupted, laughing. “I mean ‘anger you’ as in ‘dumping me or maybe we have a disagreement’.  Nothing more than that.  It will literally just guilt trip them into actually just sitting and visiting.  I didn’t mean anything beyond that.  And I only suggested it because do you know where the glasses are in my apartment? The plates?”

“Oh.” I felt stupid. “Ah. Okay yeah that makes more sense.” Not that the pressure to marry on her, and the weird approval process I’d undergone hadn’t given me ample reason to suspect that gender roles were at least a little bit cracked there, but now was not the time. When we ruled the world though, we were going to abolish courtship by democracy.

“How does Sunday sound? Go to the party Friday night, recovery Saturday, and then you can stop by with dinner on Sunday?”

“Sounds amazing.” Gave me plenty of time to start laying groundwork, then on Saturday, I’d start getting shit actually rolling. Then Sunday, spend the day with my gorgeous girlfriend and her family, mop up the next week. 

“Awesome. Meet you on campus Friday, 7:30ish so we can scope out everything before it kicks off?”

“Sounds perfect. Love you.”

“Love you, too… MAMA! Don’t you dare - “

[c0smic-petals]

HES FINALLY DONE WOO

Another design for my friend’s ( @idomybest12 ) au, afterverse! This is ( pre-incident ) Blue although in this au his nickname is Duce. He’s the main character and since chapter 1 was posted I decided it would be a good time to draw him! It took my forever to get the pose right but it was so worth it

He’s adorable and he might be my favorite. Hope nothing bad happens to him ^^

[idomybest12]

Afterverse

So, after @c0smic-petals and I have looked at different names we could name this au, we decided on Afterverse! :) The au is inspired by @jokublog with dreamtale, without it, I would not have came up with the idea, so thank you for making dreamtale! :)

[the-multi-fandom-weirdo]

This is part of my AM called: afterverse

In this AM, all sanses realize their suffering was caused by ink sans (in which this au, ink is the creator of all), and the sanses fight back, this drawing was part of a battle between shattered dream sans and corrupt nightmare sans