#I am simply built different

[th3wizardoz]

While everyone is mourning the inevitable end to Logan Sargent’s F1 career I am delusional enough to think that maybe he’ll get one of the 4 seats left

[inavagrant-a]

Seeing all of these people on yt and twt argue over Dehya to prove a point of why she's good or bad for x, y, and z and I'm over here like I just wished for her because she's a strong brown skinned woman you guys are tripping balls and for why.

[kowboat]

fresh from the blorbo fields: Venevolence (ty @deneviere), a cruelty squad-esque biopunk mercenary in a setting i haven't fleshed out but does contain a lot of flesh

Venevolence (Ven? Vv? ????) has every disease and has never done anything morally questionable. described on first sight by my friends as, in rapid succession, "a disaster bitch" and "a rancid fucking twink" so i've decided they also have every gender

keeps a meat freezer at home filled with spare/alternate/extra body parts, for work & personal use. their favorite weapon is a P90 variant bioengineered from a coconut crab. the magenta cybereyes were originally left unfilled while i worked but i decided i unironically liked the color - and you fucking know they glow in the dark

[brionnnne]

Liar's Den WIP [Working Title, Unfinished]

Almost a solid year (Mar 23rd, 2022) since I started writing and editing this thing, and I planned / plan (?) to do more with it, but I'm honestly not quite sure where to go, and in a way, I honestly think it works alright as a standalone, so I'm just going to throw it out there to show that I do, in fact, write. I had fun writing it, at least, and I hope to make something more of it someday, but...?

Wariness is her natural state. Calculating. Observant. Perceptive. Even then, it isn’t very hard to notice that, out of all the seven deadly sins, she had only ever seen six. No mention of Sloth, of Belphegor, was made—seemingly a taboo topic among the brothers. No wonder why, Morgana thinks now. 

“Why are you trying to trick me? I have eyes, you know.” Her expression turns into a bemused smile. “A brain? I may be a mere human,” she makes mystical motions with her fingers, eyes wide and dramatic, before she drops the act with a scoff, “but I know exactly who you are.” Her eyes flicker towards his fingers, blue-tipped nails, which tighten on the door. Another giveaway, Ana observes. She knows by now that Asmo paints all of their nails, but his are chipping; faded. How long has he been here? As long as I have? Longer? She doesn’t ask him. “I’ve seen your portrait, you know? Even if I hadn’t, your fingernails are painted. That might be fine by itself, but your eyes?” She tilts her head, “Strange color for a human. What is that? Purple, right?” Related to Beel? Internally, she rolls her eyes. Obviously.

His hands slacken. He shrugs, trying to appear lax— a nice imitation, or it would be, except the tightness has moved up. The stiffness of his shoulders makes the action slightly less loose than it should be. Interesting, her eyes narrow. He doesn’t like being called out on this. Why, though?

“You caught me,” he raises his hands in a gesture reminiscent of Asmo. It’s sort of … cute, on him. Intentional? Questions she can’t answer yet run rampant. There’s not enough information to infer much of anything, as frustrating as that is—very. As for his lies, she thinks there could be a logical reason behind them, and while his state of captivity makes him look like a victim in some form, his deception speaks against that. Regardless of logic, the hasty fabrication, the stiffness of his fingers and shoulders, makes her have doubts. He’s certainly capricious—just listen to how even toned he sounds now, compared to his earlier panic—but to what extent? Perhaps further sarcasm would be … unwise.

Morgana looks back up, “So what is it that you want, then, if you were desperate enough to lie for it?” She frowns, gesturing to the door that holds him. “Freedom, I assume?”

For the first time, she sees something like a spark in him. Energy that wasn’t there before. 

“I thought I might get your help,” he says, “if I pretended to be human.” She can’t tell whether this is duplicitous or not. Even a close inspection shows no obvious signs. Perhaps he’s just that good of a liar. Perhaps he isn’t lying at all. It could be both. Insertions of truth, twisted to fit one's liking, have always made lying easier. Harder to detect by a casual, or even careful, viewer. She’s only seen a single tell, and even then, being stiff doesn’t always indicate a lie — it can be normal tensity; discomfort. Plenty of things that make her slow to place any defining bets. He’s shown her basically nothing. 

She had never really given further thought to the implications of Sloth on behavior. Acedia, she remembers, is apathetic. Listless. Lack of care. Her eyes track to his hair — messy; bedhead — to his clothes. They’re barely resting on his frame, and not in the sense of weight, but rather, the jacket he wears is nearly falling off. His shirt — plain, white — is a bit more kempt, but only just. It lifts at his midriff, revealing an un-tied pair of sweatpants that dip low on his hips. He wears no shoes at all, but when she peers in, she can see a pair of long boots sitting in the corner. Effortless. Slip-on. Morgana’s eyes find her own slippers, and she shrugs. Understandable, she thinks. Nice, too. The room itself reflects his state of dress. Untidy. Lacking organization. Her gaze falls onto Belphegor again. He seems, as expected, unbothered. It isn’t like she can criticize that; in fact, it appears they share these traits in common. That being said … 

This … probably shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. Her brow furrows. Regardless, the feeling doesn’t leave. It isn’t very often that she can’t get a good read on someone. Being out of her element like that makes her feel uncomfortable. Most people—even the other demon brothers—are easy enough to read at the best of times. Belphegor …isn’t. 

(Asmo tells her that she isn’t, either. Is that what dealing with me feels like to him? Eugh.)

“I can’t break the seal on this …door,” he admits, scowling. Surprisingly expressive, his hands flutter before it. That, at least, is truthful. There’s no hesitation in his words, no tightness of his frame. His emotions are visible, but not overdone.

“Frankly,” she says, unable to tamp down her bitterness, “I don’t know what you expect me to do about that. I have no magic.” This may not endear him to her, but it’s true. She’s been painfully aware of her status since being deposited here. Even with potential, the understanding of theory, all that becomes useless when she can’t even apply it.

“That may be true, but you have pacts.”

Morgana raises her eyebrows. “And you know about this …how?” 

“Don’t get so worked up,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “Lucifer told me.”

She snorts. He is cute. Sort of. Shakes her head. “Humor me, then. If I were to free you,” Ana posits, “what is it that I would have to do?”

“If you made a pact with all of my brothers, that would be enough to break the seal.”

She hums. “What do I get out of this deal— I mean, why should I?” It sounds cruel. He could be innocent, she reminds herself. But it’s a genuine enough question, really. Why risk herself? Mammon’s pact was pure luck, and Levi's was borne of some uncanny trickery. Fooled into believing she had won when she hadn’t. He’d been too worked up to realize, and she was, of course, in no hurry to correct him. She was weak here; having something concrete would be protection. “I don’t even know you.”

“Are you—?” His eyes flash. She has to cradle her face to hide the smile this brings. Thumb and forefinger resting on her cheeks. Her hand; a curtain. Neither his apparent anger nor her amusement lasts for very long. “You’re a human,” he says, incredulous. “Don’t you want power—or something?”

Morgana sniffs, fingers coming down to rub at her eternally stuffy nose, “I don’t particularly care.”

He blinks. “Are you not driven by … generosity?” His words are metered, strained, and pushed through clenched teeth; she suspects the word he wishes to have said was not half as nice as the one he had chosen. He’s being careful. It’s notable that he does seem genuinely curious, however. It’s just a guess, really, but this probably wasn’t how he had expected their meeting to go. And it must be weird to meet a human not simply drawn in by that promise of power, especially a power received so idly. A thing that Belphegor is known for accomplishing at a price; a particularly devious demon—manipulative, her textbooks had warned. She’s not sure she wants to deal with the cost of that, really; power and influence are overrated things, anyway—she wouldn’t deny a level of self-motivation in seeking out pacts like Pokemon cards, but. Power is the least of her concerns. Control is a trivial matter. She simply wants to live unburdened, and to do that, she needs to actually be alive. It’s a simple desire; all things considered. Base. Yet she’s curious—for answers no one else would give, she knows. Who would be so forthcoming? Lucifer? Certainly not. There’s clearly something going on here—this attic room, these spiral stairs, up which Lucifer had told her nothing was or would be—and damn it if she doesn’t want to know why this would be worth lying about; if everyone else was lying to her, too. Did Beel know? It didn’t seem that way, certainly, but she doesn’t really know him, either…

“I can be generous,” she reveals after a moment, “but I’m not going to go out of my way if I don’t need to. Plus,” Ana turns her gaze on him. “You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”

. . .

Trust. She falls onto her bed, sighing. How fucking complicated. It’s true that his lies had made her wary, but a part of her — an annoying, shoved-aside part of her — wants to help him. That feeling is as annoying as it always is. She’d been working on this part of herself, slowly but surely. It’s uncountable how many times now that her generosity has hurt her rather than helping, but attempting to be so selfish hurts all those good parts inside her, too. Tears them up and crushes them underfoot.

Tonight, it bothers her so much that it even stalls her sleep. Lying. Rolling. Restless. Why do you want to help him anyway? She doesn’t know, and more than not knowing him, her ignorance of herself is infuriating. She should know this. She should understand herself like the back of her hand. She thinks restlessly. She thinks endlessly. She thinks and comes up blank every time. He’s a stranger, Ana tells herself. He might even deserve it.

“Deserve being locked away?” She murmurs, an uneasy frown twisting her face. “With nothing?” Closes her eyes. It was glaringly obvious how little he actually had, after all. No D.D.D., which she’d already noticed early on. Absence from chats. Communication. Healthy things that were necessary. Isolation. Loneliness. One of Lucifer’s ham-fisted ‘punishments’? It doesn't feel right.

Even without trust, even if he did deserve some form of punishment, could she say that it would be this? Could she condemn him? Because that’s what it would be. Damning. Not helping Belphegor would only mean that he would be stuck there—living in those conditions, alone, for as long as Lucifer saw fit to hold him. Her wariness didn't mean she had to be okay with that by default—didn’t allow her to simply turn a blind eye. It’s true, she knows this, but that doesn’t mean she likes facing it.

[halechief]

as i sit here watching s5 i notice francis really does raise his voice at claire a lot lmfao. and she just does not react, most of the time. he also just told her ‘your job as vice president is to advise. my job is to make the decisions.’ oooh francis. how soon you forget.

[moshuwu]

if someone threatened me with like a gun or knife subtly in public like they do in shows, I would simply, tell everyone, scream, make a fuss, because whats my attacker gonna do? stab/shoot me? surprise motherfucker, now everyone knows your face.

[15000bugs]

i am so bad at napping. i tried to go to sleep around like 1:45 and then woke up feeling 10x more exhausted at 2:59 and couldnt go back to sleep

[zorionbbq]

sujimon, subzero sonata, redraws, etc!

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

oh im gonna be SO annoying about bbh in a minute. i keep saying the same thing over and over again but his character is too fucking complex motherfucker is like:

"i'm a demon who is 11,000 years old and i refuse to acknowledge that im a demon nor that i do bad things (like steal furniture) but i will help people every chance i get despite saying im going to stop doing that and i am going to devote my life to protecting these fragile little eggs even though i know im going to lose them one day because i love them too much (and i know i can do that and it will one day be okay, because i have an immortal diamond to keep me company even if he isn't here now). when my friend throws himself beneath the spokewheel of the federation i will be there, bitter about my loss, but i will not start a revolution until he proves he deserves one. i will do what i can to safeguard his system against corruption because i am afraid the federation will use him to hurt us. i know he doesn't want to hurt us. he keeps hurting me. he is isolated by our distrust in him and he is still working hard to try to be a good person in an inherently corrupt system that cannot be fixed so i will build him a statue. i will not kill him when he takes a picture of me in the presidential chair (that was almost mine) and puts it on his wall and calls me 'employee of the month.' i didn't do all of that work for the federation i did it for him like i do it for others because they are my friends. i will exhaust every option i have to build a reason to NOT start a revolution. to not kill him. because i have to say that i tried. i feel like i have made so many compromises. i have held myself back to try to find reason. i will still remove his access to my base. when the island turns against me and he locks me in a cage for a crime i did not commit, i will remove everyone's access (except for my family the french and my family the eggs). i am having fun. when the eggs appear the next day with cracks and dirty shells i will worry, but i know they're strong. they'll be okay. (when i find my son's secret lab and his unethical experiments that cause him harm i will be proud because he has done what i do. he has helped. i want him to be safe but we are never safe and i trust him more than anyone else. i know now, and i can help him be safe.) when the eggs go missing i will be silent. i will look for them, and i will destroy for them, and i will bargain for them, and i will cry for them, and i will not accept their loss. when my friend who is president who once built a safehouse that saved my eggs' lives is finally damaged by the federation (like i knew he would be when he became president) and he starts to hurt people by pushing the same treatment onto them i will not be surprised. i will be surprised when he tries to marry me. i will not blame him (much) when he tries to kill me. our children are missing. he is forced to pretend that his is not. i wish i could too. i will not tell him yes or no because i need an open avenue to manipulate him (because to save him i will have to manipulate him). i will not marry him because he is out of his mind. i have said marriage is overrated. i have also said that i want to live with him in a house with our kids and my skeppy. when he tells me that he wants to be happy with me i will still say 'aw' because it is the most genuine thing he has said to me and i miss my friend. i will still try to kill him. i fail to kill him with someone else's plan. i don't place a block to lock him in place. i hesitate. it doesn't matter if it's on purpose because the next plan works. i will reveal an item that could destroy me to my closest allies (and tubbo) because it will let us save him. we save him. when he kills himself 18 times over i back away from the explosion in surprise and then step close again. while i have grieved i have thrown myself into mines. it doesn't matter. i am numb and want to feel something. everything has lost colour. we save him.

i visit federation workers and ask them about my eggs and they do not tell me anything. i know they are lying. i visit the graveyard to talk to my lost eggs. i have lost all of the eggs. i do not know how to save them. i lay in the mud. it rains and rain signifies the monster has returned to kill my children but my children are not here and so i do not care. when i go home i will become so angry and i will go down to my basement (which i have locked like my friend locked the entrance to his greatest fantasy. we are so alike and our delusions are different. he child was real; here is the secret to finding my children) where i have locked a federation worker away. i will not wash away the blood stains.

i am also part-time grim reaper and i only ever dress up in robes to make people drink more water."

[rainybraindays]

Madoka became god and everyone who loved her fogot of her existence, except for Homura who loved her so much she broke the rules of the universe she was born into to join her in the making of her new one, just to than break its rules as well to try and once again protect her

[alicent-archive]

Rip to the Northern lad but I simply wouldn’t have pulled out the black stone.

[br1ghtestlight]

this is like scripture to me.....

[self-spaghettification]

For your consideration.

How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations

[shannonsketches]

hey kid want a tragic ship textblock about ganny and nabooboo here u go

thinking about the very shippy nabsgan scene in my head in which Gan's last night as a mortal man in Gerudo Valley started as a fucked up fight that ended in surprisingly authentic lovings and the one final kiss trope the morning after bc she doesn't know shit's about to go down but he does and it could go badly and he might not ever see her or this room or this place ever again so he slips up and lingers a bit too softly a bit too long and it confuses her a little but it's nice so she's like 'okay cool maybeeee we'll be chill when he gets back this time'

and they had this code they developed when they were younger bc their relationship was a (very poorly kept) secret for a long time so if she was up in his room when he headed out she'd stand in the window and watch him leave even if she was mad at him and he'd always looks back even if he was mad at her and over the years it bounces between a romo 'don't be long' thing and and a salty 'getting the last word' thing but it's always a 'see you soon' thing and it's the thing they do if they were together before he headed out even if they were only in the same room to have an argument it's always the thing they do it's the thing they've always done and so she stands at the window and they fight all the time now so she's extra confused by how well things ended last night and how well they went this morning and how weird it is and she waits for her little signal from him that he'll be home soon whether its a threat or a promise but he starts to look back and then stops -- and chooses not to -- and heads out without looking at her

and it dawns on her that he hasn't made eye contact with her at all this whole morning and the very sudden realization that it's a goodbye hits her square in the chest and she just has to stand there and not know what that means she just knows that's what's been said with no further context and no way to ask because he's disappeared behind the canyon wall he's already gone and the next thing she knows Hyrule is burning and no one's heard from Ganondorf and she has to carry this dread around in her chest like everything is normal because she's the second in command and she's in charge in his absence and everyone else is obviously worried but she's the only one that saw him as close as he gets to being vulnerable right before he left

and she feels like she should've gone after him she should've stopped him she should've chased him down the hall and jumped on his back and been so annoying and clingy and obnoxious and not let him leave and not let him go because she knows now what she saw was him standing with his foot over the ledge making peace with the jump and she knows now he might've been just unprepared enough for her to knock him off balance and pull him back and keep him home and if she'd refused to let go of his hand it might've been enough to stay it from whatever he was planning to do and it might've been enough to crack that facade he's built around himself and let her see him again for the first time in what feels like years but she didn't she just stood at the window and watched him go and the next time she'll see him he'll be Changed, Forever

and she thinks about that day a lot when she's sitting in the sage chamber knowing that the thing he chose to become the thing she feels responsible for letting him become is just down the ethereal hall chained up like a rabid dog in the shadow realm snarling and jeering and calling her a traitor and not knowing she feels like one for reasons he'll never even think about

[dylanlila]

me when elena has mean thoughts about lila: okay, understandable.

me when elena has loving thoughts about lila: get this away from me.

[anonymous-dentist]

late christmas present for @anonymous-jey my beloved!! :D

On the surface, the mission is simple. Find the Time Devil, and bring it under contract by any means necessary. It’s a routine mission, the kind that Quackity has been doing pretty well for basically his entire life. Even Sapnap can do it, and Sapnap’s only two real abilities are punching and burning things in that order. There’s just one problem, and it’s that nobody has seen the Time Devil in two hundred years. 

“He’s insane,” Quackity groans. 

He slumps against Sapnap, burying his face in his boyfriend’s warm, comfortable chest. Quackity lets out a slightly more content groan as he puts his arm around him and holds him close. Together in Quackity’s tiny-ass twin bed, there’s barely enough room for them plus the files plus the cat. But, well, it beats Sapnap’s bed (because he doesn’t have a bed, because the boss has decided to stop giving Sapnap new beds if he’s just going to burn them in his sleep, because the boss is a bitch, but that’s getting off topic.)

“Insane!” Quackity emphasizes. 

Sapnap rubs his back and lets out a pacifying, “There, there.”

“No, you don’t get it.”

“No, I do. He’s insane.”

“He’s insane!”

“But, really, it’ll be good for us, won’t it? The Time Devil was, like, super powerful the last time I saw it. Everyone was terrified of it.”

Which bodes well. It bodes really well. Quackity isn’t the most powerful devil hunter on the force. No, that title goes to the boss, but Dream doesn’t do his job. He makes people do his job for him. The actual most powerful devil hunter is the fiend sharing Quackity’s bed, for better or for worse. 

Today, Sapnap is shirtless. It’s his and Quackity’s day off (because if Quackity has the day off, Sapnap refuses to go into work, and trying to force him into doing anything results in more property damage than it’s worth), so he’s shirtless, and Quackity is pantsless, and it’s two in the afternoon and they’ve only been awake for half an hour. But in that half an hour, Dream has not only sent over paperwork to do, but he’s also sent over a thick manilla folder full of ancient-looking documents describing a devil that nobody is sure is actually still in the human realm. Dream thinks it is. Quackity hopes it isn’t. 

The more powerful a devil is, the more work it is to get it to cooperate. That’s just how it works, and Quackity knows all too well how annoying it is to try and get a bitchy devil to work with you and not, like, devour your soul. Quackity is a good negotiator, but he isn’t that good. He’s just a dude; how can he possibly get time itself to cooperate with him? 

So Quackity sighs, and he lets himself sink into Sapnap’s embrace. Tomorrow, he and Sapnap get back to work. Today is their day off, and he won’t let Dream ruin that. 

-

The Time Devil is a mysterious one. Reports describe it looking like anything from a small girl with a big pink plastic Hello Kitty wrist watch to an old man with a cane with a clock carved into the handle to a woman dressed like a librarian to a man with sunglasses bigger than his face. It depends on the person describing it, and it’s always different. 

Time is fluid, the top page of the file says in Dream’s scratchy handwriting. You can’t expect it to be the same to every person. 

Sapnap met the Time Devil once, apparently. It was during the plague, the big one that wiped out half of Europe. He was in London, and he ran into a man stealing a loaf of bread from a dead woman’s hands. 

(“He was beautiful,” Sapnap sighs, and Quackity tries not to be too offended.)

The way Sapnap described it, the Time Devil was a real looker. Brown hair, fluffy, big eyes, soft lips. (Quackity chooses not to think about that party.) ‘Cute’, in Sapnap’s words. But it’s also been centuries and a near-death experience since then, and Quackity isn’t sure how reliable Sapnap’s memory is. 

But what’s interesting about Sapnap’s account is that it matches several others. The Time Devil, no matter the form it's taken, has golden eyes. 

(“Literally gorgeous,” Sapnap confirms, and he breaks into a laugh as Quackity annoyedly throws his eraser at him.)

According to Sapnap, the Time Devil is powerful. But Sapnap also isn’t the best with abstract concepts. He’s the Fire Fiend, formerly the Fire Devil, he doesn’t really need to think to do his job. When Sapnap says that everyone is scared of time, Quackity thinks that maybe he means that everyone is scared of the end of time. The End isn’t really under Time’s jurisdiction, that would be the Death Devil (and the End Devil, fucking duh), and that is so far above Quackity’s pay grade that he doesn’t even consider thinking about it. Everyone is scared of time running out, but they aren’t scared of time itself. 

Still, Dream wants it. Quackity doesn’t know what exactly the Time Devil can offer, but it has to be good if Dream has him looking for it. These days, Quackity is reserved for negotiations only… and babysitting, but he has been promoted from hunter to contractor. The last time he went out on an actual hunt, he came home with Sapnap clinging to him like a particularly-handsome leach, and Dream doesn’t want to risk any more devils getting attached to Quackity. He already works with three. Any more, and he’d be an actual threat.

(Quackity closes the file, and he slides it across the table to Sapnap for him to look through.

“If I fail this, I think he’ll kill me,” Quackity says. 

The tips of Sapnap’s horns start smoking. 

“I’ll kill him first,” Sapnap swears, face downcast and eyes glowing faintly red.

Quackity doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Dream would beat his ass again. Instead, he smiles fondly, and tiredly, and he reaches across the table to take one of Sapnap’s hands in his own to hold. It’s warm.)

-

The Time Devil is an enigma, and yet, as Luck would have it, Quackity finds it within three hours of his first search of the city, Sapnap stuck back at the office doing an HR training. It’s in the row next to him scribbling in a notebook with a pink glitter pen, tongue stuck out and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Honestly, it isn’t anything special to look at. Cute, but not exactly Quackity’s type (he’s into muscles and people who could stab him these days.) He wouldn’t glance twice at it if it wasn’t for the gold eyes. In the dim light, they’re almost like headlights. Enthralling, almost. Almost. 

And then it looks at him with a smile. 

“Hey,” it says. “You good over there?”

Quackity shrugs. “Eh.”

The Time Devil nods sagely in response to that brilliant statement. 

“Yeah,” it agrees, “I get that. You’ve just been looking over here for a while, and I wasn’t sure if you were, like, okay or if you were just checking me out.”

It winks, and this is Quackity’s opportunity to stick a foot in the door. 

He shifts in his seat so he’s fully facing the Time Devil, already reaching into the interior pocket of his suit jacket to pull out his business card. 

“Actually, no, I was wondering if-”

He’s cut off by the Time Devil: “‘Cause I wouldn’t be opposed if you were checking me out.”

Quackity blinks, momentarily freezing. “Uh, no?”

“I mean, I was definitely checking you out this whole time. Like, that’s probably a little forward of me to say, but I don’t see the point of beating around the bush with this sort of thing,” the Time Devil continues, ignoring Quackity’s attempts to correct it. “Life’s too short to get caught up on maybes, y’know?”

“Uh,” Quackity says, thinking about the solid two weeks he spent ignoring the flowers piling up on his desk and the fiend giving him said flowers. “Yeah, no, I get it. I absolutely get it. But-”

“Great! Is that your phone number?”

Quackity only mildly protests as the Time Devil plucks the business card right out of his hand. It looks the card over, a pleased pink blush spreading across its cheeks. 

“Quackity, huh?” it asks. It looks from the card up at him. “You’re a devil hunter? That’s cool. I’ve always wanted to do that, but I’m not exactly built for it.”

It flexes a noodly arm, any and all potential muscles hidden beneath its baggy hoodie. 

“Yeah,” Quackity says, “I’m a- yeah.” He nods. “I’m a devil hunter.”

“And that’s cool! I really don’t care, even if you guys are, like, cops.” Its nose wrinkles, and Quackity can’t even find it in himself to be offended. “Like, I get it, but half the devils don’t even do anything. Blood sacrifices and stuff aside, most of them just, like, chill, y’know?”

Quackity knows. Dream heard about a so-called Man Devil a couple months ago and has been hot on its trail since despite not knowing a thing about it, not even its human disguise. Quackity suspects that’s why he wants the Time Devil on his side; he’s been pooling an awful lot of resources lately looking for what Quackity is pretty sure is just a dude. 

But then there are devils and fiends like Sapnap, who may be a big ol’ panda bear on the outside, but he also eats people and is the literal physical incarnation of the fear of fire. And even Sapnap, who Quackity first met as he was burning down an orphanage for fun, is scared of the Nightmare Devil. 

The Time Devil looks like the kind of guy that would think that ketchup is spicy. There is an account from 1975 of a school bus full of kids on a field trip rapidly aging until they all died of old age. A news article from 2004 has a picture of a woman who’s been stuck in time since 1765, trapped in her own body as time moves on around her. 

The Time Devil scribbles something down on a fresh page in its notebook, tears out the page, and hands it to Quackity, who is too caught up in his own thoughts to protest. 

“I’ll call you tonight,” the Time Devil says, and Quackity doesn’t doubt it. “Eight.”

Quackity looks down at the paper in his hands. Karl Jacobs, the ‘J’ written with a big swirl in the top, and a phone number. 

When he looks up, the Time Devil is gone. 

-

Sapnap thinks it’s funny. It isn’t funny. Sapnap thinks it is, though, and he apparently thinks it’s funny enough to bring up constantly. He’s lucky that Quackity loves him, because he’s really starting to push it with the comments. 

“Wow, can’t believe you’re going on a date with the Time Devil without me,” Sapnap whines. 

“It’s not a date,” Quackity flatly replies. 

He’s pretty sure it is a date, but he can’t just admit that. Not to his boyfriend, anyway, he doesn’t know how Sapnap would react if he actually came out and said, yeah, he’s going on a date with the Time Devil. If there’s one thing that Sapnap is loyal to, it’s Dream. Really, it means that Sapnap is loyal to making sure that Quackity doesn’t get himself killed pissing Dream off. He’s sweet. 

It’s been a month since he found the Time Devil. Or, rather, it’s been a month since he found Karl Jacobs, who just so happens to also be the Time Devil. Not that Karl has admitted that; he seems pretty content with playing human, and he doesn’t seem to realize that Quackity has been onto him this whole time. Maybe it’s cruel, calling every night and talking for hours on end and pretending that Quackity’s boss doesn’t want Karl under his control or dead, whichever ends up being easier to pull off. But, well. Quackity likes his company. He’s nice, for a devil. Not that Quackity would actually admit that. That’s a surefire way to get himself fucking murdered. 

They’re in the bathroom as Quackity finishes getting ready, Quackity looking himself in the mirror and touching up the makeup covering his scar, and Sapnap draped over his shoulders like a cat. Sapnap looks smug. Quackity doesn’t know why he looks smug, but it can’t be anything good (it rarely is.) Still, he has plans tonight, and dealing with whatever Sapnap is up to is not part of them. 

“Dude, it’s a date,” Sapnap says. He rolls his eyes and presses a light kiss to the skin below Quackity’s ear, smirking at the way Quackity shudders in response. “It’s fine. Free love and shit.”

“It’s not a date,” Quackity repeats. 

“I don’t care if it’s a date.”

“Which is nice, but it isn’t a date.”

“Suuuuure it isn’t.”

Maybe Sapnap is smug because he knows that it is a date. He and Quackity basically share an apartment these days, he’s been around for every phone call that Quackity has had with Karl. Every. Call. He’s heard the way Quackity talks to Karl, how his voice started going soft a week in, how it only took the first call for Quackity to ask if they can call nightly. He saw how Quackity started sitting by the phone waiting for Karl to call. And, yeah, Sapnap had been jealous in the beginning, but when Quackity had clarified that it was the Time Devil and how this was a work thing, nothing personal, Sapnap had cheered right up. (Possessive little shit.)

Quackity puts down his foundation and turns around to look Sapnap in the eye. Sapnap grumbles slightly, dislodged and clearly unhappy about it.

“Sapnap,” he says, putting his hands on Sapnap’s shoulders. “This is not a date. This is a work engagement.”

“Right.” Sapnap nods, stone-faced. “Engagement.”

“I am going to propose a contract to the Time Devil, and we’ll work from there.”

“Right.” Sapnap nods. “Propose.”

Quackity sighs and hangs his head. “You aren’t listening at all, are you?”

“No, I am.” Sapnap puts his arms around Quackity’s waist and puts his forehead against his. “I’m just saying that I don’t care. Promise. I want you to have a good time, even if it is professional.”

“Sapnap, I’m bringing my sword.”

“But you aren’t bringing me.”

Quackity’s breath catches, and Sapnap chuckles. He’s right. Shit, he’s right. Even if this is a date, it’s still a date with a devil. A dangerous devil, if rumors are to be believed. A devil that Dream wants under his control. And Quackity isn’t even bringing his weapon, he’s just bringing his sword. 

“Oh, God,” Quackity breathes. 

Sapnap’s nose wrinkles. “Ew.”

“Sorry. Just-”

“I get it, Q. Promise. I’ll be there in a blink if you need me, but I don’t think you will.”

“How do you know?” Quackity asks. 

And there it is again, the smug look. Quackity doesn’t like it, whatever it is. Bad vibes. Weird vibes, mostly, but Sapnap’s vibes are rarely good. 

“Oh, I dunno,” Sapnap responds. “I just do.”

He kisses Quackity, then, pointed teeth digging into Quackity’s bottom lip just slightly and just ever so briefly before he pulls away, leaving Quackity wanting more. 

“Have a good time,” Sapnap says, a weird look in his eye. “And wear protection.”

He winks, and Quackity only halfway wants to smack him. 

-

Quackity has more than enough money left in the bank, but he takes Karl to McDonald’s, anyway. It’s close enough for Sapnap to be able to get there if Quackity is in danger, but it’s far enough away to keep Dream and his pet Punz from spying. 

Karl looks… nice. He looks nice. Quackity, fully aware that this is a date, feels himself blushing as he watches Karl order his food. Karl’s wearing a necklace tonight, a gold chain and a beautiful purple amethyst, and Quackity staring at that is enough of an excuse for him to stare at Karl’s neck. This is a date, he knows it’s a date, but it’s still weird. Sapnap is weird enough to get away with staring at; he may be the Fire Fiend, but he’s also Sapnap. Karl is something else entirely. Something dangerous. 

Something dangerous, but Quackity isn’t entirely convinced. He watches Karl trip over his own shoelace three separate times as he makes his way to the fountain drink dispenser against the wall. Tonight, Karl’s sweater is stained with what Quackity knows is blood but that Karl played off as ketchup stains from lunch. His jeans are ripped. The skin beneath is pale, inhumanly so. Karl is like a doll, his body is so perfectly made. 

Or, Quackity thinks, like an angel. 

By the time they sit down in a back booth, Quackity has decided to rip the bandaid off. 

“I would like to propose a contract,” he bluntly says. 

Karl hasn’t even finished unwrapping his hamburger. He freezes, burger half unwrapped. 

“Oh,” Karl softly says. 

He puts his burger down, throat bobbing, and Quackity… he feels bad. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I just-”

“No! No, I get it.”

Karl laughs lightly, looking right down at the table. He doesn’t see the tight, pained look on Quackity’s face, or the hesitant hand halfway reaching across the table to try and take his. 

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Karl asks. 

“Yeah.” Quackity nods, voice tight. “I did. But-”

“No, it’s fine, Quackity, really. I don’t care. I don’t mind. I’d love to enter a contract with you, really. I just… can’t.”

It’s now that Quackity realizes that the restaurant is silent. Looking around, he sees that nobody else is moving. Outside, a dog crossing the road is frozen just seconds away from getting hit by a car. The light rain starting to fall has stopped, droplets hung in the air outside the window like tiny little Christmas lights. Frozen. 

Slowly, Quacity looks back at Karl. 

“I’m pretty strong, y’know?” Karl continues. He folds his hands together, thumbs awkwardly twiddling. “I’m the Time Devil. I’m probably one of the oldest devils out there. Maybe I’m the oldest. But just ‘cause I’m old doesn’t make me powerful. Like, I’m not weak, but I’m not as strong as I used to be. Nobody’s really scared of time anymore. It’s all guns and stuff these days, y’know?”

“Okay?” Quackity says. “That’s fine? Look, I’m not actually the one that wants to enter a contract with you, but that isn’t important right now. Can I hold your hand for a second?”

Karl glances up at him through his eyelashes, hesitant. But, eventually, he holds his hand out. Quackity takes it. 

It’s cold. 

“Karl, I’m a devil hunter,” Quackity says. “I have personally entered contracts with three separate devils, and two of them are weak as shit. I’m pretty sure my boss is a devil. My boyfriend is a fiend. I literally don’t care if you’re powerful or not, but that’s not what’s important here.”

“Your boyfriend?” Karl asks, mouth twisting slightly in… some way, Quackity can’t exactly tell what emotion that’s supposed to be, but he’s on a roll right now. 

Quackity shakes his head. “I told my boyfriend that this was a business meeting, but it’s a date, okay? Even if you weren’t the devil I’m supposed to be negotiating with right now, I’d want to be getting dinner right now with you because I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ��oh’. To be honest, I don’t even want you to enter a contract with my boss, but it’s kind of my job to offer one to you. He’s willing to pay the standard, but that isn’t what’s important right now.”

Karl’s mouth does its funny little thing again. “You keep talking about what’s important, but you still haven’t said what it is.”

Oh, good, he’s dumb. He and Sapnap would get along great. 

Quackity rolls his eyes fondly. “It’s you.”

Karl’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh!”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“But then… why did you even bring up a contract in the first place?” 

Karl tilts his head like a puppy, and it’s hard to imagine that this is probably the oldest devil on the planet right now. He has to be up there with Death. He’s killed millions upon millions over the millennia he’s been alive, the entire planet has frozen in time around the two of them, and he has freckles and the most kissable lips that Quackity has seen in his life. 

Quackity shrugs. “Wanted to get it out of the way early so we could enjoy ourselves. The boss doesn’t really like the idea of pleasure over business.”

“And I’m pleasure?” Karl asks, batting his eyelashes. 

Quackity smiles and brings Karl’s hand up to his lips for a delicate kiss that leaves Karl gasping in delight. 

“Of course,” Quackity says. 

“Oh,” Karl says. “Well. You’re my pleasure, too, Quackity.”

With that, he snatches Quackity’s hand across the table so he can kiss it, much more wet and exaggerated than Quackity’s kiss. 

Quackity is so caught up in the moment that he almost doesn’t catch Karl muttering, “Wow, Fire Devil was right, he is romantic.”

…But that’s something to think about later. That’s something to think about when Quackity is back home with said “Fire Devil”. Now? Now Quackity has a job to do. More importantly, he has a date to finish. 

“So…” he starts. 

“I’ll enter a contract with you,” Karl interjects. 

Quackity blinks. Uh oh. “What.”

It isn’t a question, but Karl treats it as such. 

“I’ll enter a contract with you,” he repeats. “Tell your boss he can shove it up his ass. I want you. You get my powers at your disposal, and I-”

Quackity’s voice is strangled in his throat as he interjects with a very intelligent, “Agh.”

Karl giggles, a light and beautiful sound, picking up right where he left off. “And Quackity, you know what I want from you, right?”

He licks his lips, and Quackity suddenly has a very good idea. He’s done this three times before, but, suddenly, he has a feeling that this is actually the right way to do it. Screw those other guys. 

He nods, and Karl beams, all sharp teeth and unholy terror. 

He leans across the table, and Quackity meets him halfway.