#Also the text was suffering

[verdesart]

Draw your favourite characters in your favourite album cover [challenge from twitter]

I forgot to draw the wheel

[bruciemilf]

Something Something, Joker’s whole thing in DC is that he does irredeemable, awful bullshit, which he always minimizes by calling it a joke, regardless of how critical the damage is to people around him and never takes accountability for it, something something literally the plot always tells you he’s an absolute loser for that and aspiring to imitate that behavior makes you a loser, something something comedy should be an outlet for laughter and pain, not taking joy in hurting someone else

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

d- do yuo think eridan and karkat would wear each other's colors if they got in moirails with eachother? smiles with big wet eyes

yes, he already does that canonically w/ feferi and vriska's colors! :)

karkat is Not a fan (and his sweatpants drawstrings are only violet because eridan bought them and switched them out and karkat can't un-switch them without getting apoplectically pissed off by that stupid little string that won't go through the holes)

like, man. this is weird. why are we doing this

[slow-reader-reads-books]

I find the most interesting difference between Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan isn't "malice" and "kindness" but rather Shen Jiu being a desperate-to-survive sore loser and Shen Yuan being an uncompetitive good sport, and it's interesting to see how their differences kind of flow from those two opposing traits

Both are desperate to survive in their own ways, however I guess you could argue Shen Jiu did everything to secure the life he wanted, meanwhile Shen Yuan idled and idled until fire was put under his ass and he finally had to do something to secure better living standards for himself

You could argue Shen Jiu has a stronger will to survive, but even being alive he didn't seem to enjoy it and be happy all that much. Meanwhile Shen Yuan strives for very little but generally is happy with the bare necessities and choosing to just loudly inflate his complaints about little things instead, which probably endears him to the people around him

[maacbrem]

Thinking about Lieve’tel and Bertrand and crying at the club

She’s off putting and she knows it, knows that she moves a bit too carefully to seem entirely natural and when she speaks there’s an unearthly resonance to her voice and when she closes her eyes she sees all the threads of the world converging into warp and weft. She’s seen generations pass her by while she remains unchanged, her goddess’s voice and silence guiding her onwards, and she knows when people look at her they reject what they can’t understand. The Champion left behind his family to serve the Matron, and she takes it as her duty to watch over them even when they insult, demean, mock and dismiss her (even when they watch her back in battle and allow her to guard theirs in turn, which for warrior folk like them is as good as a declaration of care even as they refuse to meet her eyes or hold her gaze too long in a challenge she won’t answer).

And Bertrand is… normal. Ordinary. Unremarkable until he opens his mouth, and prone to sticking his foot there. He’s an aging human enamoured with the idea of being not a hero, per se, but a heroic figure. The dream of a legacy drives him. He learned to duel in fencing clubs but his first real fight was a half-drunken brawl to reclaim a bard’s stolen tips. He has a sense of righteousness but doesn’t always act on it and the older he gets the more frightened he is of dying without meaning. He makes her laugh, and then he does it again on purpose, and he keeps doing it for as long as they spend together.

She makes time for him when he’s in Vasselheim, usually scouting out the up-and-coming young adventuring parties that make their way through the city because he wants to be a mentor but hasn’t quite figured out what he has to offer yet. He attends services and makes offerings and lets her unpick his tangled anxieties about what comes after. They get thirty years in intervals of hours to weeks, and they’re not exclusive - neither of them is ever in a place to make promises they don’t really need - but they keep circling back to each other.

She knows she’s going to lose him and he knows she’s already mourning him. He gives her a bell for her prayer beads and she passes on the name of an old supplicant with a bloody past who might have work that suits him in Marquet. When he dies, she knows he’s gone before she wakes that morning. When the world is poised to end, she puts herself on the line with his token in hand because it is her duty and her honor, and because Bertrand once said that to be remembered well is to be immortal without cost, and what they had might not have been love but it was important.

[hydrachea]

All of the quest menu descriptions for Aventurine's quest "All the Sad Tales".

(... And the one from "A Walk Among the Tombstones.)

[tswwwit]

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact. 

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing. 

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’. 

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally -  and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect. 

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back. 

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process - 

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him. 

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person - 

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with -  and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard. 

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag. 

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring. 

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy. 

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin. 

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is. 

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses. 

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong. 

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch. 

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape. 

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

 Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught. 

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating. 

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape. 

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place. 

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room. 

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections - 

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap. 

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for  dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades. 

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up. 

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him. 

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass. 

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site. 

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it - 

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic. 

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile. 

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk. 

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’. 

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths. 

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach. 

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?” 

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.” 

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface. 

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him. 

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick.  There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters. 

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

 Is this a phone? 

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’. 

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this? 

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response. 

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. 

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit. 

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that. 

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work. 

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself. 

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down. 

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end. 

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line. 

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep. 

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal. 

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the - 

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just  

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly. 

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension. 

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon. 

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those. 

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did. 

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again. 

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen. 

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides.  The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing.  No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds. 

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious. 

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement. 

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe. 

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts. 

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed. 

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself. 

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen. 

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless. 

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst - 

The next line of text comes in. 

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take. 

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands. 

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types, 

Try me.

[katabay]

my knight-monk agenda strikes again, but this was less of a 'I read something that made me experience several emotions and a strike of inspiration at once,' and more of a 'wouldn't it be fucked up if the bejeweled skeleton saints came to life and and started. eating people. or something. in revenge. medieval catholic horror, or an older horror of not being buried right. zombies, even. a complete bastardization of holy visuals. zombies.'

it's a far away idea, but I still wanted to play around with font layouts. like, if I DID make it into a full comic: these would be visual vibes, perhaps.

it's also a little bit about the kind of intimacy that these kinds of spaces provide, or in the case of this monk: the heavy trauma of war and the death of your brother, the escape to a secluded monastery, spiritual brotherhood to make up for your dead brother, but your role as a physician keeps pulling you back to this violence you want to escape. physician, heal thyself, only you have a holy calling to serve those in need, so instead: physician, open up your wounds again. saint jude, patron saint of lost causes, give us a fucking hand here, man. amen.

Homosexuality in the Renaissance: Behavior, Identity, and Artistic Expression, James M. Saslow

and this one is about earlier history than the medieval period that this comic is set in, but the monk character is sort of an exploration of earlier themes. a little bit. I like overlapping eras with each other, I've done it before and I'll do it again. this character is an exploration of some other stuff too, but mostly this book was interesting to read

From Monastery to Hospital: Christian Monasticism and the Transformation of Health Care in Late Antiquity, Andrew T Crislip

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[milfygerard]

and you just watched it happen...

[ash-and-starlight]

my “if something bad happened to them i’d kill everyone in the room and then myself” gang from the masquerade series (…..yeah i’m still in denial over [redacted] shut up)

[aq2003]

please do yourself a favor and listen to david tennant malvolio reading the fake love letter to him (act 2 scene 5 of twelfth night). im going to actually start sobbing. oh my GOD

[vlasdygoth]

choked up, face down, burnt out

[sualne]

shopping with the worstie for the bestie

[brainworms-all-night-long]

A two parter story about Nine not keeping his mouth shut when asked and the result of that, which he didn't bother sticking by and see through, of which Part 1 is at the ready and spans 7,870 words!!!

Also taking this out of the tags and saying the two locations mentioned (the seamstresses and Oakley's) are my friends @erissaacorn's oc ideas that I yoinked for my own nefarious purposes!!

Part 2: Mesure once, cut twice

---

His foot met soft grass that was slightly wet either from morning dew or recent heavy rain, and the portal closed right behind him.

Putting his hand above his face to block out the bright sun, Nine looked around the new universe.

At first, he would've written it off as just yet another Green Hill with the rolling grassy plains and radiant blue sky, but upon closer inspection, there were barely any hills and the grass seemed far too irregular to be that of the ever-present universe he keeps stumbling upon.

Whatever this place was, it turned out he didn't find himself too far away from a village, which, he wasn't sure was all that good news. Dealing with people, and especially strangers, was still far from his favorite activities, but the fox decided to shoot his shot anyway, seeing as there literally wasn't anything for as far as the eye could see but grass and more grass.

"Well hello there new face!"

...Of course.

"It's not too often we get outsider visitors, what brings you here!"

The ever-familiar blue hedgehog stood just ways off next to him with his hand outstretched for a greeting handshake.

Nine figured it was only polite to return the pleasantries, although his attention was immediately grabbed by the clothes this Sonic was wearing and just how young he looked.

The simple, golden crown sitting on his forehead, with a collared baby blue, long-sleeved shirt with wide cuffs adorned by gold and darker blue pants tucked into yellow, knee-high boots sure was something that Nine didn't think in any universe to be the hedgehog's style, especially not for his younger self, but he's seen all manner of things at this point.

"The name's Dream, guardian of the positive apples, nice to meet you."

Alright, color him even more curious in the first five seconds.

"Nine, I am... just passing by."

Nine looked around inconspicuously and found no twin-tailed fox in sight. Strange.

"Oh, well, depending on how long you plan on staying, I could be your tour guide!"

The chipper attitude of this Sonic must've rubbed off on him already as he didn't have it in him to decline, and nodded.

Following after the exited blue spike ball, the casual chatter and ambiance of the settlement almost immediately enveloped him, and he dared to say it almost felt cozy. The houses were made almost fully of wood and frequented dirt paths layered with rocks tied them together.

The inhabitants that noticed him — both human and mobian alike — gave him strange looks, but besides being used to that, the fox decided to chalk it up to looking extremely out of place in a primitive (ahem, simple) place like this.

Sonic on the other hand waved at and greeted almost every other person they came across. This means he must be either really popular, or everyone here knew each other by default given the relatively small size of the village.

The further they went, and the more porches with children picking and throwing grass at each other while laughing they passed, the more... picturesque, it all looked.

Like a drawing he'd find in an old, discarded storybook at the bottom of a dumpster an orphaned little fox would find and read through day and night over and over, wishing he could just go there.

Nine shook his head.

With living in the story book came suspension of disbelief, followed by an ominous, uncanny feeling. It all looked way too happy and clean, but he saved any further judgement for later.

"Here's Oakley's, the carpenters, where he can fix or create anything made out of wood! Though he's been kind of sick lately and the golden apple I gave him doesn't seem to be helping much."

Coming back to the present, Nine noted the second mention of the so-called 'golden apples' after they passed by a large dark brown house with a busy porch.

It was lined with chairs and other pieces of common wooden furniture, with its doors and window frames carved into charming patterns.

He particularly lingered on a cute wooden duck with wheels for feet and a string tied around its neck sitting on one of the tables. Not that he wanted it, but the fact it was most likely carved by hand, so he simply admired the craftsmanship. That, and it was the closest thing in his line of sight anyway.

They passed by a fruit stall next, and the smell of fresh fruit convinced him he felt just a little hungry. Though he learned to be careful with the food items from other universes at this point, after a few unfortunate events.

No matter, his pockets were empty both of any money and any other item he figured could have the same value as an apple to people in here.

"C'mon take one, we can't have our guest going hungry after all!"

Sonic seemed to read his mind though, or it was simply reactive generosity that the fox had no intention of declining. It was just an apple after all. Most likely. Hopefully.

Perfomatively wiping it into his shirt, Nine enjoyed the fruit to its full capacity as he followed the hedgehog around with no end goal in mind.

While in any other universe he'd find backseat shopping the most mind-numbing activity imaginable, he didn't have it in him to be frustrated in the slightest here for some reason.

Sonic dragged him back to the present yet again by pointing at another larger than the rest house.

"And this is the shop of our seamstress. She can tailor you the most beautiful, or if function is more of your thing, durable attire from almost any piece of fabric in no time! Though you can never expect where a conversation with her leads haha."

"Did she tailor your clothes too?" The fox asked mostly because the more he looked at the hedgehog, the more out of place he felt among the average villager here. Everyone was mostly wearing dark brown, beige, or white, simple clothing with aprons and hats, while Sonic looked like he should sit in a castle or a chapel of some sort.

"Not really, no, mine and Night's clothes were given to us by our mother."

"Tch, you look almost like a lost prince." Nine remarked with a smirk while noted yet another unusual mention of Sonic's seemingly biological family. Though the remark was meant as a sort of a pseudo compliment he wasn't sure it sounded like it.

"You think so, haha!"

Sonic ran with it though and didn't seem bothered by his attitude in the slightest. That was always just a matter of time anyway, but Nine decided to turn his attention towards what appeared to be a small bookstall that they stopped in front of now.

Small as in, one shelf of books sorted by... nothing as far as he could pick out, with a tiny mouse girl behind the counter.

Upon hearing Sonic's order she carefully handed him the book from the bottom shelf, instructing him to be careful with it, to which Sonic gave a smug nod yet held the book like it was made of porcelain until he turned back to the fox.

"Alright I think this is actually all I wanted, we can finally return to the tree and I can introduce you to Night too."

Sonic said with a smile and the book safely tucked under his arm.

Fine, so safe to assume that Tails exists in this universe. It's honestly jarring that he hasn't seen the other part of the seemingly inseparable duo no matter the universe yet. If anything he in vain expected the bright yellow fox to jump them a few streets back.

Perhaps he was sick and that's why Sonic went shopping for him?

They were about to continue their way and Nine was looking for a place to throw the leftover of his apple when a group of kids that paid him no mind almost ran him over, giggling. He wanted to curse them out and noted the two red foxes among the four of them, before his attention was dragged just a bit higher.

"Dream! You have not forgotten about the garden, have you?"

A female voice suddenly yelled out, but Nine ignored the mystery woman with all of his attention on the absolute behemoth of a tree sitting atop the hill in front of him.

Literally, how did he not notice that sooner was beyond him, but questioning his peripheral vision aside, he decided to nonchalantly turn his head back to face Sonic and the woman.

Her notably black hair was tied in a high ponytail and she held a set of baskets on her hip. Sonic stood just a ways away from her, looking between the items in his hands, the woman, and Nine, with his startled eyes lingering on the fox.

"Um, this is kind of important, if you could take this up and to Night?"

Sonic sheepishly extended the items forward, and normally Nine would've protested at the sudden turn of events, but decided to wordlessly take the two things from the hedgehog's hands instead.

"Ah, are you sure he doesn't want to go with us?" The woman inquired with an almost sickly sweet demeanor that Nine was immediately not fond of.

He eyed her, but tried to make his distrust not all that noticeable when he declined

"No thank you, I don't really do gardening."

"You sure darling? we could use an extra pair of hands."

"Miss Katheryne come on, no need to drag an unsuspecting passerby into pulling weeds eh. I'm well equipped for that job alone."

Sonic dragged her attention from the fox as he tried to pry one of the two baskets from her grip and Nine let out an internal sigh of relief.

She let the hedgehog take it while the other container fell over to her side and she let out a nervous giggle "Alright alright, well, enjoy your stay little one, you're of course welcome to stop by at any time."

Afterward she wordlessly turned around, with Sonic waving him a temporary goodbye.

Nine kept his eyes on the duo before they disappeared over a corner and were out of sight for good. He decided to not bother dissecting the out of pocket interaction as he made his way up the hill. The grass was quite slippery still, which made it difficult to secure his footing and not fall over every other step.

Quiet noises of both distress and laughter immediately sent him on alert however, and he was willing to sacrifice a bit by speeding up his ascend. Each longer step he took with little help from his mechanical tails saved a few centimeters of the incline and he wasn't all that out of breath by the time he met horizontal ground again.

The picture-perfect facade of this universe fell just as hard as the little fox that was shoved to the ground with a yelp by a young bear, who then mercilessly smoothed the fox's face into the ground, effectively muffling any noise he made afterward.

Nine stood frozen for just a second before not thinking twice and giving into the sudden spark of rage in his chest. Wrapping the string holding the bag together around his hand, he steadily made his way towards the little group.

These were surely the same four kids he saw run up the hill just a while ago, if those two cackling red foxes were anything to go by.

One of them grabbed onto Tails' bangs and forcibly lifted his head back off the ground and snorted, most likely finding the kit's face welled up with tears amusing.

Nine spared only a second for eye contact and using the fact neither of the kids noticed him so far for building some momentum into a swing.

The bear's shoulder was harshly met with a bag of apples — that surely felt more like rocks — as he was knocked off the kit and toppled over the red fox.

His pained grunt was mixed with a surprised gasp from the rest of the group left standing, and that's when Nine remembered he had much more effective tools of offense than one bag of fruit.

His mechanical tails sprawled around him, their tips pointed threateningly in front of each of the kid's faces and they all flinched back.

Nine couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto his face.

Good.

One amongst them, a human boy with dark black hair tried to play tough by yelling out and trying to get into his face. Nine felt in no way intimidated by him however, even if he was taller, as the kid was scrawny and had no real weapons that could hold against his. Nine bared his teeth and posed himself just a bit above the ground, which appropriately made the human, alongside everyone else, reconsider and back away just a bit more.

"Tch, you think we're scared of you?!"

Nine narrowed his stare towards the red fox holding his shoulder. A face he recognized and one that he already made turn tail and run the other way when he was much younger and weaker.

Nine made a bluff strike that aimed at the fox's chest. The runt appropriately jumped back with any confidence he had dissipating and unease taking over his posture.

"Yes."

"You're way over you head, freak."

He heard the human boy lift a rock and throw it his way. It would've been a successful hit to his head had he not effortlessly blocked it with one of his tails. For a second before that he considered catching it in his hand, but decided to rather keep to a reasonable limit of his abilities to avoid getting too drunk on his power high.

"Pot calling the cattle black."

Nine simply stated with a grin as he picked up the rock nonchalantly.

The human gulped as Nine made him his clear target, by all means wanting to return the rock full force back to sender, except at the last second he shot it towards the bear that was already on his way down the hill.

With a yelp, he didn't manage to dodge it and the rock hit his ankle full force.

A fearful face betrayed any bravado the bear might've posed in his statue and Nine's grin only solidified when his ear flicked back.

Apparently, to drive the point further in, and fairly demonstrate the fact he wasn't stupid, he made another bluff strike behind him, spooking the yet uninjured red fox who thought it was a good idea to sneak in a failed surprise attack.

A loose brush with a metal point to his nose seemed to be what finally made the kids decide he wasn't worth it and they promptly ran off the hill while cursing under their breath.

Which left just him, and his lookalike alone under the tree's shade.

The sudden shot of adrenaline slowly dissipated, and he fully reveled in the small catharsis of knowing he was still more than intimidating enough to deal with a pathetic group of bullies like that.

Nine let out a sharp sigh and snapped his mechanical tails back in place, then finally turned towards the person he went up here for in the first place.

Or where he though he would be, but instead found just flattened grass.

The next best place to look was the tree branches above, and sure enough he saw a pair of scared blue eyes looking tearfully back at him.

Nine dropped the bag of apples to the ground unceremoniously and tried handing over the book, basically beckoning the other to come back down.

With all the sudden movement though, Tails all but flinched and retreated further into the tree's crown.

Nine knew that even when the immediate danger was taken care of, his first and then overall impression wasn't exactly friendly, but that was by design.

He sighed.

"I'm not gonna hold my hand out forever. Sonic- Dream sent me to give this to you."

A a bead of silence was followed by a while of rustling leaves and finally a thud sounding from the other side of the tree.

Trained pointy ears peaked from behind the tree trunk and Nine's hand officially gave out.

At long last the other fox showed himself fully and Nine could properly analyze him.

This Tails wore the exact same attire – albeit now dirty from mud and grass – as Sonic. Except the color scheme was purple and brown, with a roughed-up golden cape draped around his shoulders and the simplistic crown smooshing the three strands of fur on his forehead sported a hollow out of a crescent moon.

He went to take the book, but Nine's hand sprung back a little too fast and Tails hesitated.

With a deadpan expression Nine didn't react too much on it and waited until the other finally let his hand fall empty and free.

He figured that he could at least offer the basics of sympathies, although not make it seem like he was high and ready to patch up the kit's, hopefully, only superficial injuries.

"Nothing broken?"

Tails shook his head.

"Good."

Nine then took a few steps back and slumped against the tree, finding a comfortable place between the roots.

At a loss on how to carry this interaction further, Nine crossed his hands over his chest and looked to the village bellow. While at it, he realized he most likely marked himself a future target, if the human kid's familiar features had anything to say but he digressed.

Whatever whiny tantrums they'll throw is at most a future him's problem.

The face of the red fox flashed fore him and Nine to turn back towards the other sitting under the tree.

"How often do you have to deal with those."

Albeit his question might fall on mute mouth since so far this Tails hasn't spoken a word, though Nine hoped it was just the result of stress as he didn't feel like navigating a nonverbal conversation.

Tails merely grabbed the golden cape around himself like a protective blanket while, thankfully, trying to find his voice.

"I-its, um, it's a rare occurrence really I j-just..." He shook his head and slumped back against the bark, seemingly trying to sink into the ground bellow. "Thank you, anyway."

Tails stared at his book that he finally opened in his lap, but it was obvious he wasn't reading, mind stuck on and busy processing other things.

"...It's not often someone bothers with that."

The insecurity in that barely audible whisper apparent, Nine grit his teeth. He had a faint inkling he knew exactly what was going on here.

"Have you tried fighting back?"

Tails fiddled with the corners of a few pages with his eyes downcast before answering "Not really. I'm sure if I did it they would just get meaner, anyway."

Fair point, which for a second made Nine reconsider his immediate and almost absolute suggestion. Fighting back without any means to secure victory and make it stick would cause more harm than good.

Looking back down and around, the view from up here was pretty enchanting to say the least, and the air seemed slightly lighter too.

His attention was soon back to the tree however, and the shimmering specks of fruit hanging from it. It was hard to immediately tell with the sun hitting some of them directly, but they were two different colors.

Nine marked them as the golden apples Sonic kept going on about.

Eventually, his eyes ended up back down, looking at the little fox huddled on the ground. Upon more careful inspection, this Tails also looked really young, maybe around six or five years old, and the notion of that made him frown when counting in his banged-up state.

Ignoring the current bruises and messy fur, there was an obvious scar on the bridge of his snout, what was definitely dried blood under his nose, multiple patches of ripped fur from his otherwise bushy namesakes, and quite heavy eyebags under his eyes.

Nine also noted the kit contradicted himself right in the second sentence he said, but after noticing all that, there was no way Nine's buying the previous scene being a rare occurrence.

Tails is universally bullied most commonly for his namesakes — and that's a fact as he came to find out — but that usually ceases after his pretty much fated meeting with Sonic. Which, doesn't seem to be the case here for whatever reason.

Nine eventually tired of standing in the middle of the hill and sticking out like a sore thumb, so he made his way towards the apple tree and sat one clump of roots over, next to the kit as nonchalantly as possible. Although he made a makeshift chair of his mechanical tails as he didn't really feel like sitting on damp and uneven grass.

Giving it a few seconds to get comfortable, Nine then peered over the wood separating them. The uncharacteristic deviation from the almost universal relationship between the fox and the hedgehog kept nagging his mind.

"Does Dream know about this?"

The tense silence from the other was more than enough of an answer.

"Why don't you tell him, I'm sure he'd be able to do something about it."

The guardian's downcast expression turned sour, with a few creases appearing on the book's pages.

"I don't think so. Everyone loves him, but only because it literally makes them feel good when he's around. And that he has trouble saying no to people when they ask something of him, so they find him useful."

Finally giving up, Tails closed the book and set it aside, then hugged his legs close to his chest and rested his head on his knees.

"I'm sure if he went against them because of me, they would not take kindly to it."

Nine soaked up the words and was actually taken aback by the bluntness, but it seemed that so was Tails himself.

"I'm sorry this is, um. You're not from here, are you? I'd rather not make this one of your problems, I don't think you have to see too deep into it."

Nine realized his expression has gone too soft at that, and took his time to distance himself from the other.

Yeah, yea Tails was correct in fact. There was no reason to care about something that will ultimately be inconsequential to him. A few minutes in, it was obvious this universe was far from ideal place for him to stay, as one, he definitely doesn't feel like raising two orphaned kids in a village so obviously biased, so whatever squabble or interpersonal relationship wasn't his business. And two, there was little to no technology present besides handcarved wooden ducks, which would sooner or later drive him insane.

He let complete apathy wash over him and grabbed the MTC in his hand.

But while he could just get up and leave at any moment...

Looking at the other fox from the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit of sympathy hold him down.

He knows more than anyone how much it would mean if someone stepped in just once before he had to do it himself. And if the technological state of this village was anything to go by, that would prove to be just a bit more trouble for the Tails in here.

"The name's Nine by the way."

The fox's ear flicked towards him, followed by an unsure expression.

"Nightmare."

That sure is... a peculiar name.

"Big brother calls me Night though, which sounds very similar to your name actually." Tails gave a weak smile at that and finally turned his head to face Nine.

"Hmm, yeah it kinda does." There wasn't much that came to mind in terms of an answer to that though, and he let the conversation die right after.

Wait. Oh was this like, a sun and moon type deal. Dream and Nightmare, purple and yellow, golden and black and all that.

Nine playfully rolled his eyes at not getting the very obvious theme sooner.

Though, Idly sitting here made him realize just how exhausted he was from his constant hopping back and forth between all manner of worlds, so he figured there was nothing wrong with taking a little break from all that. Maybe he'll stay overnight and a bit of tomorrow after all.

Or maybe he'll just take a nap right here and now and set out again afterward.

He crossed both his legs and hands while keeping his ears trained for the smallest movement going around.

The purpose of it was defensive, just in case anyone else gets any funny ideas while he appears low on guard, but it leaned in the side effect of making him soak in a stray bird song, undertoned by the rustle of hundreds of leaves under a gentle, albeit slightly chilly breeze that was nicely canceled out by the warm shade the tree provided.

Even if he could never truly afford to relax, this was probably the closest to something like that he'd ever get. That is until he finds a proper home. Hopefully.

"Where are you from though, I never seen anything similar to those metal tails you have."

That threw a wrench in his plans. Although it was rather foolish of him to assume Tails would just, be quiet the whole time, and not wonder about the random stranger that just wandered into his favorite hiding place for all he knows.

"Where I'm from is not important, I'm basically a homeless wanderer at this point." Nine settled on forcing out. And his place of origin really meant nothing to him. If anything he was glad most of his memories of New Yoke were faded and unclear as were that of Shatterverse. He didn't belong to either of those, and so there was no use in remembering them.

"You look really familiar."

"No duh, I have your exact face- don't worry about that too much though." Nine quickly backpedaled, he didn't feel like explaining the concept of the multiverse right now, as he warily stole a glance at the other fox.

"Well, maybe a little less babyish but still."

"No not like that I mean- yea nevermind."

Tails went silent again, seemingly regretting his choice to speak up in the first place.

A small pang of guilt hit Nine when he saw the other shrink into himself again, and he sighed.

"Ok, well then what do you mean?"

It took a second. But the guardian took time to regain the bit of his confidence to speak back up.

"...Those, metal tails of yours, when you were scaring off the other kids a while ago, they made your silhouette look like someone I frequently see in my dreams."

That... was sure something Nine wasn't expecting to hear, but he'd be lying if he said some curiosity wasn't piqued. This universe sure had its way of doing that.

"As in, a prophetic way or..?"

"In a nightmare way, actually." The other stated matter-of-factly, but when Nine creased his brow, he immediately went on defensive

"Don't take it as me being rude or superstitious! I'm really not! It's just, uh, an observation." He then chuckled weakly, most likely hoping to decrease the tension, but Nine was neutral with that notion honestly, not even knowing whether he should think anything of it at all.

He never attributed any deep meanings to dreams, as they were just recreations of his lived experience, which, were far from pleasant. Whatever Nightmare here is going through is the same most likely.

But it made him think, that maybe little him would be proud to have have a silhouette someone would see in their recurring nightmares, a bit.

He placed one of his mechanical tails in his hand and for the first time after a long time, carefully examined them again. Their dull casing was scarred by dents and scratches from their years of active use, with the gear holding this particular segment firmly kept in its place with the neon underglow still active.

For a second he was back in his workshop as a much younger self, grinning like a maniac after he connected the last of the needed pieces together and finally tried out the finished tails (after many failed prototypes) with an immeasurable amount of pride in his chest.

He smiled, reminiscing, until the guardian's small voice shook him from his stupor.

"Anyway, you said Dream send you here?"

He let the tail fall from his hand.

"Pretty much. He wanted to come along but some lady stopped him and dragged him off to clean weeds or something. I don't remember."

"And she just let you go?"

"Begrudgingly, but yea. Why?"

Tails went quiet again, picking at the tips of his namesakes with pursed lips.

"The villagers...they don't really like me."

The fox started slowly with his ears pinned back.

"But they don't want Dream to know that. So some of them will distract him and keep him occupied, while others will- well, I don't know how much you saw but, they're usually a bit more vicious than that."

Tails shook his head and finally uncurled from his position, picking up the book again.

"I was just wondering for how long he'd be away again. If Katheryne took him then it's probably until sunset..."

The way the little guardian spoke made it all the more clear this was not just a repetitive torment from the side of the stupid kids, but a calculated move from the adults as well.

Sudden anger began to bubble in Nine, but he wasn't sure who it was directed at. He'd much rather dismiss it as Tails reading too much into it, but it's him that lives here, not Nine.

Something about that woman's insistence he'd come along before Sonic interjected now justified his negative hunch about her.

The anger must've taken to the surface and Nine lost control of his facial features, as whatever was his face showing alerted the fox next to him.

"But you won't tell him, Right? I- I already said I can't drag him down with me, you can't."

Nine looked at him for a second, for some reason stumped for an answer. The simple decision would be to just say fine, and leave it at that, turn away, and forget about this world just like the others. But that self-evident and most rational decision didn't seem all that appealing based on the very little window he had just seen into this universe.

He'd be a liar if he kept telling himself he didn't care for the kit. Even if it was more of a project-y sort of rage towards the people here he doesn't even know, than sympathy for his situation (for some reason).

Nine internally groaned and forced himself to seal a promise he wasn't 100% sold on keeping.

"I won't say a word."

Tails well, it was hardly a smile he gave once his shoulders finally dropped with the release of tension, and he sunk back to his spot.

The words fizzled out once more.

Sun continued its path through the blue sky unbothered by any event beneath it and ever so slowly dimmed as silent minutes ticked by. Eventually, the leaves were accompanied by the flicker of book pages as Tails finally started reading.

Nine began to thread the line between sleep and consciousness when a sudden yawn ripped through him.

The kit next to him audibly flinched and Nine toppled back into being mostly aware of his surroundings. His nose twitched in annoyance.

"I um, I forgot you were here." Tails laughed nervously. Nine attempted to ignore him however and tried to take the only long term functioning remedy for that yawn.

Tails didn't let him have it as he suddenly hopped up and snatched the bag of apples Nine dropped off not that far away, making it Nine's turn to flinch.

"We, I mean, me and my brother don't really have to eat, but it's nice to just munch on something sometimes. Don't know how it's with you but I assure you apples from here taste amazing!"

Nine took the offered apple from the kit's hands but then simply dropped it into his lap.

"Yea I already had one today, thanks either way."

"We'll then you can keep it for your travels!"

All he gave was a small nod, as uninterested as he could be.

"I'm sorry I keep talking, but, one last question."

Nine fought with himself to not audibly groan.

"Um, just how long will you stay here?"

Instead, he huffed, fully abandoning the idea of the nap.

"Probably the night and I'll set out in the morning."

But he suddenly stopped himself when he realized his tone had just a bit too much of an edge to it, not to mention he hadn't used it consciously. Just sitting here, he felt more frustrated than back in the village with Sonic dragging him around like a dog on an invisible leash.

He side-eyed the kit next to him, but he felt insane for the dots it made him connect, so he brushed it off.

He was really tired is all. And someone constantly had to interrupt his attempts at getting a proper rest.

Tails simply hummed in acknowledgment and returned back into his reading.

Unfortunately, Nine was completely offset now and couldn't put his mind to rest no matter how hard he tried.

Letting out a sigh through his nose he looked up and leaned his head just a bit more roughly, yet intentionally, into the bark of the tree.

That sigh must've been just a decibel too loud when Tails's ears lowered and he began apologizing

"What are these apples about."

Though Nine couldn't care less about listening to pointless "sorries" while transfixed by the peculiar fruit hanging above him.

Tails perked up ever so slightly instead. "Well, without going too deep into the magical-mechanical aspect of them they're like, little fruits containing concentrated either positive or negative emotion, which is marked by their opposing colors. Though a better contrast would've been black and white, but can you imagine white apples?"

The kit was pointing towards the fruit hanging above them as he spoke with that was definitely an attempt to end a part of his spiel humorously, although Nine wouldn't say succeed.

"Their shared existence on one tree holds the balance in the emotions of everyone in this world, as far as I know."

Nine sure wasn't expecting a whole ass sudden info dump, but despite it, he sure had questions. He went to open his mouth, only for Tails to silence and answer his question immediately.

"You're not allowed to take or eat them though, since they're way too powerful and overwhelming for one person to hold and can be only lent for a while with our permission, since I and Dream are the tree's guardians and all that..."

With what great confidence Tails began to speak, slowly fizzled.

Nine let the remark of neither of them exactly doing their jobs die on his tongue, and instead, he decided to indulge the kit next to him, he was the one who started with the questions anyway.

"Can you eat them?"

"Well... we've never really tried. Besides, just holding the apple gives more or less the desired effect anyway. That leads to no one really caring for the negative side of the tree."

Tails trailed off again, deciding that the grass beneath him was super interesting and he needed to rip a few blades of it to closely examine them.

"And I was... born from it. Which is why you're so irritated right now."

Nine raised his eyebrow.

"So you knew...?"

"I can sort of weakly sense the emotions people around me are feeling. So yes. Doesn't help that being next to me only intensifies the negative ones though."

Tails was fully curled on himself at this point, hiding in the golden cape that would actually fit Sonic's vibe way more than Tails' but asking about that would either have the kit shrink even more or let him loose on another info dump.

"You're full of them though, even without my influence."

Nine simply chuckled in agreement at that.

"So with that logic, Dream has the exact opposite effect?"

Tails silently nodded.

"Fascinating."

Even so, Nine didn't mind getting to know more of this apple stuff. It's both an outlandish yet genuinely interesting concept if he says so himself.

Feeling a little less red string on a corkboard, Nine found himself curious still, mulling over random questions while Tails went on and on explaining them.

Their conversation leading to Nine explaining random robotics trivia that Tails followed up with his own limited knowledge and questions went back and forth. It let time flow on quite easy again, until they were interrupted by the sound of someone familiar huffing his way up the hill. With that, Nine was made aware of just how much time has passed when he looked at the dark orange to pinkish sky draped in a low sunset.

Soon enough, a dirt-covered Sonic holding a square bag to his shoulder, with his sleeves rolled up and gloves sticking out of his pant's pockets, greeted them energetically.

"Haha, glad to see you two getting along!"

The foxes waved back to him, and the hedgehog bent over leaning on his knees while struggling to catch his breath.

"Sorry for taking so long, Katheryne can really be a handful sometimes."

Regaining a bit of his strength, he took the two extra steps and stopped in front of Tails. He than brought the bag off his shoulder and immediately dug through it.

Sure enough, it was made clear the bag was a first aid kit — or at least what would be considered that for the times this universe lives in — when Sonic laid out a few bandages and tiny bottles with clear liquids. He covered the opening of one with a piece of clean white cloth while Tails put his hands out in protest.

"Sonic I'm fine don't worry about-"

"Shush no excuses, now show me your nose."

With great reluctance, Tails let the hedgehog hold his muzzle and wipe off the dried blood, before he moved on to the mud still staining the front plain of his face.

"It smells horrible."

Tails scrunched up his nose and physically tried to shake the aggressive scent off him while Sonic carefully rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a bloodstained bandage that must've been a few days old already.

"I know bud, I know."

Nine watched them silently, unable to fight the sympathy that the fox kept garnering from him at this point.

Huh, if the emotion aura stuff is true it would only make sense the two being near each other would cancel out and make the area neutral.

Either way, the fact Sonic came prepared meant he was aware enough to know Tails keeps getting hurt when he's away, which made the relationship just a bit more confusing again.

"You didn't happen to ruffle each other up while I was gone have you?"

And of course, Nine would be the prime suspect for Tails gathering the new injuries that weren't there in the morning. He was bout to say what happened exactly, when he was hit with Tails' pleading eyes and the promise to keep his mouth shut.

"N-no worries big bro, I just fell off the tree because my cape got stuck in the branches, it's fine." Luckily, Tails seemed to have a mildly convincing excuse at the ready, and Sonic turned his full attention to wrapping the now-cleaned gash in his brother's arm.

"If anything he's super nice, did you know that there can exist machinery so advanced it can be programmed to flawlessly mimic biological beings?"

Sonic froze for a second, unsure of how to reply, while he rolled up the dirty bandage.

"That, huh. That sounds kinda scary actually. Is that a common thing for where you're from?" The guardian asked, turning his head towards Nine.

"Kind of not really? It's mostly just an outstanding feat of engineering that was achieved only a couple of times, so no need to worry."

He couldn't tell either of them who the replicas were based on now, could he?

The hedgehog merely nodded while Tails went on, either to distract himself from the sting in his arm or just because.

"Nine knows so much about machines, and he told me so many cool stories he got from traveling all over the place!"

"Huh, sure would love to go on an adventure like that someday." Sonic mused after carefully placing all of the supplies back into the medical bag.

"Well why don't you?"

Nine asked without hesitation, because if there was one thing he learned at this point, it was that Sonic cannot stay in one place for long. Even if you embed his legs into concrete, he'd either go insane or find a way out.

"We can't go anywhere, since we have to stay near the eyeshot of the tree to not let anyone get any funny ideas." Sonic sighed.

And that seemed to be true here, except the responsibility keeping Sonic tied down was something he couldn't run away from.

"Do you guys like, live here? Under the tree I mean."

"Hmm pretty much. Well in my very humble opinion it's much better than in a closed off hut built somewhere in a ditch."

Sonic threw the bag up and it's straps caught on a nearby branch. He tugged on it to make sure it will not slide down before climbing the tree himslef and stretching his hand out for Tails to grab on.

"It could do with something to keep the rain out though."

Tails commented and followed his brother up into the crown again, where he basically disappeared between the leaves.

"Sleeping on a tree can be hardly comfortable."

"Hah, says the one who sits on cold metal."

Sonic shot back with a finger gun pointed at Nine.

"Thermodynamics. The metal doesn't stay cold for long."

Sonic's attitude dropped a bit at the most likely unknown word to him but he brushed it off, finding the most comfortable branch to sit on, and leaned back on it. Maybe leaned back too much, as he toppled over and hung upside down from the branch like a bat.

"Thermowhatever's when wood is all you're used to sleeping on since birth it is more comfortable than a rigged bed."

"Agree to disagree."

"Mimimi."

Sonic mouthed back, but Nine didn't mind it much, banter with Sonic was fun.

"So you said you'd stay the night?"

Tails' disembodied voice was accompanied by an unnatural rustle of leaves.

"Most likely yea."

Suddenly the world went dark for Nine as suffocating weight was thrown over him. His temporary panic was intercepted by Tails' giggles and Sonic's tone that couldn't contain its humor properly either

"It gets cold at night, and I doubt anyone here would be willing to let a stranger inside their house at this hour. Not to be mean or anything, just safety for safety's sake y'know."

The sudden darkness turned out to be a yellow and navy blanket with sun and moon patterns. Nine assumed it to most likely be tailor made for them by the mentioned seamstress, but that was besides the point. The blanket was indeed a good insulator so it served its purpose.

"Thanks." Nine mumbled and somehow put the blanket over himself in a more comfortable manner. "Why do you go to sleep so early anyway?"

"And who told you we're going to sleep eh." Sonic swung himself back up into a proper sitting position, crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand. "Again don't take it personally, but we can't leave the tree unsupervised, like, at all. Though I wouldn't mind if we could go on an adventure like you're on." Sonic sounded like someone elbowed him at the end of his sentence.

"So you're just gonna stay up the whole night instead."

"There's two of us for a reason duh."

He's gonna be kept under a night watch, how lovely.

Unfortunately, Nine knew it wouldn't be possible to enter deep sleep when someone's watching him, or is aware of his presence at all. He would of course give it a few minutes maybe an hour or two if he bears it, because he needs some rest at the end of the day, but he'll hardly make it till morning.

Feeling his head lulling to the side he shook himself awake. Opening his eyes, Nine turned towards his MTC with full intent of activating a portal and leaving without a trace, but the image of Tails with terrified eyes welled up in tears surfaced in his mind uninvited.

Nine exhaled with more force than needed.

He looked up, the hedgehog's leg dangled off a branch carelessly meaning that if either of the guardians fell asleep, it was Tails.

With great effort, Nine got up to his feet and flew the extra distance needed to be at eye level with the hedgehog.

He flicked Sonic's nose with full intent of breaking the promise he settled just a few hours back.

"Ow what the-"

Nine quickly covered the hedgehog's mouth and cursed himself for not thinking just one step ahead. Tails has to be unaware until Nine is already on his way, the consequences weren't his to deal with.

Sonic didn't take kindly to the gesture, unsurprisingly, and while mumbling curses, he grabbed the fox's hand in an attempt to shove it away.

Nine didn't budge though "Be quiet and meet me at the bottom of the hill. I just have something to tell you and I'll be out of your guys' fur, I promise."

Nine put as much urgency into his whisper as he could while keeping a finger to his mouth.

Sonic narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping brother, before sighing.

"You better not be playing me for a fool buddy."

But Nine was already halfway down the incline, not letting his legs suffer the way they did when going up, he elected to just glide down.

By all accounts the guardian finally caught up to him and exclaimed "Woa you can fly?!" after Nine landed.

The fox's eyes were fully concentrated on his MTC as he fiddled with the coordinates.

"Yes and by all accounts, Night should too."

"Wait what."

"He has two tails doesn't he?"

"Yes but I'm not sure those are exactly build for flying..."

Sonic scratched his head, while Nine was one confirm click from opening a portal.

"Now, I've been asked specifically to not tell you anything, but listen up."

He wasn't sure just how strong Sonic in this world was but if he was worth a damn, he'll do something to save his little brother.

[bread-wizards]

Love Laudna wanting Orym to be the one to cut her down if need be because she feels he can make hard choices, and Travis like "uh hello? What about Chetney? You want to put Orym through that anguish? I am right here" like damn, he right tho