#also Russ pulls magic around him when stressed

[justskulkingaround]

I think I like how the hands turned out cuz of how expressive they look I think

I can always use more practice with poses and motion :))

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XXIX - Dusk

Russia leans over a little as if to shield America from the world. America shakes a little, and Russia cups the back of America's head. Russia slowly walks over to the couch and guilds America in his steps. Russia pulls America into his lap, and America curls up into his chest.

America glances around the room before relaxing.

"This is so hard," America says.

"Yes, it is," Russia agrees.

"I'm just trying to protect them, you know? I'm trying so hard... I'm sorry. I'm sure you're stressed as it is."

"Shh, it's okay. You don't have to apologize."

America goes quiet and clutches onto Russia's shirt. Russia slowly rubs America's back.

"Can we change positions? My chest hurt."

Russia slowly picks America up and flips him onto his back. America sighs with relief, and Russia leans back. Russia gently pulls America to his chest and nuzzles America's hair.

'He's warm, and he smells nice.'

Russia smiles and closes his eyes.

"Russia?"

Russia opens his eyes and looks up to see Texas standing over them, a nervous look on his face.

"Yes?"

"Is Dixie okay?"

Russia bites his tongue for a moment.

'I don't think Dixie would want me revealing anything.'

"He will be," Russia finally says.

"... is there anything I could do to help? I just need to. I want to help somehow."

"Go find him and give him a hug," Russia replies with a confident look.

"Huh. Okay," Texas says.

Then Texas waves a large group of teens behind him. Then, they wander into the dining room and surround Dixie with a huge group hug. Russia smiles softly. Dixie laughs and looks at the kids with wide eyes. Dixie glances at Russia with teary eyes and a huge grin.

Russia smiles back before returning his attention to America, who is watching the scene with a brilliant smile that causes Russia's heart to skip a few beats. Russia blushes and buries his nose and mouth into America's hair to his flustered look.

'Meri is so cute.'

America sits up, and Russia releases him. America turns around and pulls Russia down by his shoulders. Then, he smirks and pulls Russia into a deep kiss. Russia immediately reciprocates, and his whole body tingled pleasantly.

It ends sooner than Russia would've liked, but America's giggling makes it worthwhile. America sits on Russia's legs and holds Russia's shoulders.

"Where did you even get wine?" America asks, licking his lips.

Russia shrugs, and America smacks his shoulder playfully with a laugh.

"You could've shared," America teases.

"Dad?"

America and Russia turn toward the voice, and Russia finds Delaware standing in front of them, fidgeting.

"Yeah? What is it, kiddo?" America asks.

"I just wanted to let you know that we're running really low on supplies. We might have to start siphoning gas for the generators, and we don't have enough food to last us more than a few more days."

"Shit, that's not good," America says, furrowing his brow.

"We should look for more when we leave to explore the grey magic," Russia suggests.

"Do you think that we'll be able to get anything there?"

"Maybe. It's weird at least."

"Yeah, that much magic in one place won't end well for anyone staying there, but that probably also means that if there were people there, they aren't there anymore," Massachusetts says, "and I can only assume it being grey is not a good thing. You will probably be fine as long as you don't stay long."

America nods.

"We'll have to leave tomorrow," America comments, looking at Russia for a response.

"Who is coming with us?" Russia asks.

"We can!" Alabama and Mississippi chorus.

"And we can take my truck," Alabama offers.

"And I will be going too," Dixie says, "Fin can handle it here, right Fin?"

Finland nods with a grin and flashes them a thumbs up.

"And I'll be helping here too while Dix is gone," Texas says, which is quickly followed by a few dozen kids cheers.

Texas laughs.

"What? It's ain't like they're going far," Texas says.

"But while we have time... ATTENTION!" Dixie exclaims with a loud clap.

The states go silent and spin around to stare at Dixie expectantly. The provinces and countries follow their lead soon after.

"I want all the furniture moved to the edges of the room and the mats brought out. It's time to combat train some of y'all," Dixie announces.

The room becomes a flurry of movement. And when the couch started moving from under him, Russia yelps and clings to America, who is laughing at him. Russia curls around America's body and stares, wide-eyed, at the floor and the group of various states flowing under the couch. If he had reached up, his hand would easily brush the lifted ceilings.

The couch is carefully placed against the wall separating the stairs from the rest of the living room, and several large gymnastics mats are laid across the open floor. Dixie stands in the middle of them and Texas charges at him.

Dixie turns around and grabs Texas by the shoulder and flips him into the air. Texas flies over Dixie and shrieks, landing on his back. Dixie puts a foot on Texas' chest and Texas laughs breathlessly.

"Dixie! I got the arm guards!" Kansas shouts, emerging from a side door and holding up a few huge bins.

'Those states really are strong.'

"Toss some of 'em over to me!" Dixie calls, getting off of Texas.

Kansas opens one of the bins and sends a few pieces of equipment soaring. The bin makes the room smell like dirt and mildew. The equipment looks like it used to be white, but is browned by age and use. Dixie catches them without an issue.

"Okay, now let's teach some of y'all how to punch," Dixie says, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Texas, Alabama, South Carolina, and Virginia cheers. Lousiana throws some leg and arm guards at Texas, and Texas catches them with a huff. Dixie quickly pulls on the pieces with practiced motions. South Carolina runs at Dixie with a shout, and Dixie raises his arms to block some heavy punches.

"All y'all states need to get into pairs and take one extra person, " Dixie announces, blocking South Carolina's strikes without thought, "once y'all are grouped, send someone to go get you some shin and arm guards."

Texas dawns the equipment and Louisiana laughs and spins and hits Texas with what looks like a hook kick. Texas digs his heels into the ground to keep from moving.

"Everyone is gon' take turns with the equipment. I'll show you guys how to fight, but don't put your full strength into it unless you're sure your partner ain't gonna get hurt. Also, only the states are allowed to use the guards cuz I don't want none of y'all getting hurt over somethin' stupid."

South Carolina backs off, looking playfully defeated. Dixie laughs and turns to Russia.

"Come on Ruski, you need to do this too," Dixie says.

Russia looks to America. America nods and waves him forward. Russia walks forward carefully and Dixie smirks. Dixie holds up the guards.

"Take your best shot," Dixie says, "I ain't gonna go flyin' anywhere, and the guards are charmed."

Russia takes a deep breath and crouches a little. Chatter lights up the rest of the room, and several groups are talking and helping each other.

"Legs further apart," Dixie snaps.

Russia widens his stance and takes a punch.

"Use your shoulders!"

Russia takes another two strikes and kicks up at Dixie's raised arms. Dixie steps back, and Russia pauses.

"Cali! You're gonna have to work with this one!" Dixie says loudly, backing up and moving toward the group with Nigeria.

California and Ohio walk over. Ohio handing off the guards to California, who didn't look thrilled to put it on. The pieces look a little small on California, but it didn't seem to matter. California demands him to take a defensive stance, and she criticizes it.

At first, he was embarrassed by the criticism, but hearing it going on all around him forces him to realize that he isn't the only one who needs practice. He focuses on holding back his strength to keep from hurting the teens.

Russia is lost in the action, and they soon toss the gear and start dodging attacks.

"Don't be afraid to try!" California yells.

Russia pushes harder and ignores the sweat gathering on his brow. He leaps up over a punch from Ohio and blocks a knockout punch from California. He throws a swinging kick and knocks California onto her ass, and Russia grabs Ohio's fist, flipping him around and managing to throw him to the ground.

Ohio hit the mat with a gasp, and Russia huffs. Russia looks around, his fists at his sides. He's breathing heavily, and his hair feels wet with sweat.

"Jeez, you're better than I thought," California comments, standing up.

"I'm gonna be sore tomorrow," Ohio complains from the floor.

"Is the dancer over there doing well?" Canada asks, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah, did you see Russ jumping around?"

Russia looks away, his face red.

"He's better than I expected," Dixie comments, helping Nigeria to her feet.

Russia takes a deep breath and looks out the window. It's already dark, and Russia can't make out much. Looking back to the room, he spots Finland wrestling Wyoming on the mats. Oregon is trying to pull her off and is almost successful.

"Okay, kids!" Dixie announces, "That's enough for today! Everyone will be continuing tomorrow."

"Can we have dinner?" Pennsylvania asks.

"Yeah, y'all might just have to wait a few minutes so I can get something whipped up," Dixie says, walking briskly into the kitchen.

Kids cheer breathlessly, and most of them collapse to the mats, raising their hands in the air out of happiness. Russia sighs. He sits down next to America, who had drifted off against the arm of the couch. America stirs and looks up at him sleepily.

Then, America gives Russia a dopey smile. Butterflies fill Russia's stomach, and Russia looks away with a love-struck look.

"You have fun?" America asks.

"Yes," Russia mumbles, his face growing hot and he rubs the back of his neck.

"You should go shower," America suggests, "it's going to take a little while for Dixie to have much to serve."

Russia nods and America waves him off with a large smile. Russia walks up the stairs with thoughts swirling around America's smile. Russia walks into the doorframe with a conk.

'Oww.'

~

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[nighttimepixels]

okay, to the anon who sent in that post asking along the lines of “who are you favorite skelebros/why” but not in terms of general character things but specifically the ones that, and i quote, “would be ones to…..smooch places ;3”, i accidentally deleted your ask while trying to answer it, since i’m on mobile on a break between errands and this app is nonsense.;;

sooo here’s my reply, you strange and lovely sweetheart callin me out on my inclinations =///v///=

(also apologies, can’t readmore this thanks to mobile… be back with art tonight, hopefully!)

not quite in any order:

Classic Sans: because really, how could i not? my original skeleton crush. from his beautifully purposefully shitty humor, to his time and space jokes, to using his god-level powers largely to joke and work multiple jobs and care for/tease his brother… to everything he goes through and struggles with and stands for in geno routes (which gods, i never could play). frankly, i’ve… never felt so connected to a character. his depression and his humor, his deeply caring but humor-inclined relationship with his brother, his quick wit and cleverness, everything - i love him, so very, very much.

Red: it’s kinda funny how over time the aus, while still being “copied alternates” of one another, have ended up so distinct as different individuals to me. with Red… all the things i love about Sans, but with a twist - i seriously would get along with him too well. i’m kinda a total natural flirt with anyone who i end up friends with, my humor can get pretty dark and/or risque with those who match it - i love the stars and when i’m close to someone, frankly, i just want to be with them and talk through the insomnia-ridden nights and dark thoughts and funny stories and the barbs around the kindness… i’d give him a run for his money, too, i like to think, since i’m very much the ‘kill em with kindness’ type who also gets shit done because there’s no other option, really. not to mention im fiercely protective of those i care about too - i never hold myself to the same level of importance, so - mmm, i feel like he’d… get that. especially if/when we’d get close… i have a feeling there’d be a lot of late nights that didn’t feel quite so lonely.

Stretch: the kindness and underlying good attitude of Pap, with the scientific and magical inclinations of Sans, and a Sans-type wry and witty and easygoing personality? gods, i feel like i’d be best friends woth Stretch, ‘smooching possibilities’ aside. i’d love to set up stories and chill pranks woth him, chill(and smoke a dog treat, heh) with him while wandering through a forest or sitting at some view of the surroundings, shooting the breeze or listening to musoc or just… well, just talking. i wanna play video games through the night with him, and cook with him and his brother, and get nerdy about whatever obscure thing - show him campy scifi shows and accidentally geek out over animation to him and end up pulling my hood over my head bc im flustered that i slipped up like that. i wanna listen to him talk about science, and games, and swap stories, and share the things that are too hard to share with pretty much anyone. i wanna support and love that tall skeleton, dammit…

Russ: i know not a lot is written on him, and when it is, it tends towards a drooling or uncaring to the point of mild incomptence sort of guy - but i don’t… interpret him that way. i view him as having the rough and flirty and dark humor of Red, and the sweet and mischievous and slightly more laidback inclinations of Stretch at his core. i want to connect with him, to have the inevitable flirting and quick wit sessions of easy-going but pointed jokes, and to slowly but surely end up close to him, to have those late night sessions where we seek each other’s company for both fun and comfort, for friendship and understanding. to take a break from the hanging worries and anxieties and responsibilities and just… benon the same page as someone. play videogames and make up bs silly and hilarious backstories for poorly written npcs, or watch shitty horror movies or excellent comedies, more campy scifi - to cook for him late in the night because it’s a stress reliever for me even though i cant eat the things i love to make. to drink too much coffee, or make poorman’s cocktails, or tell stories and talk theories on whagever. to hear him relax and feel like he doesn’t have to be on edge, to hear his stories and his jokes and his quality flirting, heh. i… dunno why, but i just feel really connected to him, despite how little i see him around.

… heh, i won’t get into the smooching prospects specifically, this was self-indulgent as is. (yes, even as much as i want it, aw geez. you guys know me too well;;) but let’s say i’m down for anything they’d want to dish out, and damn if i don’t love cuddling and that casual intimacy on top of all the rest. =//v//=

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XLVI - Terror

America pulls away from Finland, and the blue glow dissipates. Russia smiles tightly. His lower legs tingle with pins and needles. Horror fills his mind. His grey fur raises anger and fear. Russia tries his best to keep his emotions off his face.

He knows if he looks panicked, the kids will follow suit, and he knows that he can't handle another one of them getting upset right now.

Russia snarls a little and kicks. His shoes push against the tops of his feet. His pants squeeze his legs and bend uncomfortably around his knees. He grabs at his hair and pulls on it. His lower legs start to shorten.

Soon, his heels begin to shove against the rubber of his boots.

'This just keeps getting worse.'

"Thank you," Finland says, rubbing the nub and moving to sit toward the middle of the group.

'At least she's okay.'

Russia pulls at his sleeves, but they don't fit quite right. They didn't before, but now with the fur, he can only cover less than half of his forearms. He stares at the ground and tries to pull at the sleeves to reach his wrists. His tail, arms, and now parts of his legs puff up with his irritation, which does nothing to help.

His eyes burn with frustration. He yanks on the sleeves.

They don't budge.

Anger accompanies his suffocating shame and fear. His fingers tense and his claws extend. He pulls his hands away from his jacket to keep from ripping the fabric any more than it already had been.

He digs his claws into the ground and scowls, trying to keep his rising terror from showing on his face. He kicks off his shoes, and is horrified to find his feet changing too. His feet themselves lengthen and everything visible under his pants is grey. His mind swirls with panic.

'No no nonononononono.'

'Will I ever look normal again? It never went this far before.'

A hand finds it's way into his hair, and Russia absentmindedly leans into it, wanting any distraction from the horror that his own body supplies him. America starts massaging his ears, and Russia leans over as far as he can. The burning behind his eyes fades a little, but he knows if he focuses on it, he may just start crying. Fear causes him to shiver. His heart pounds in his chest, and the fur on his legs and arms puffs up further.

It fills uncomfortably into his clothes.

'I don't know what's happening. I can't even fix it. And it keeps getting so much worse.'

He swallows back the panic and leans into America's hands.

'Warm.'

Russia tries to tuck his face into America's chest but loses his balance. He falls over into America's lap. He is surrounded by America's scent.

'It smells stronger than usual. But it smells nice. It's okay,' Russia tries to convince himself.

America scratches the top of his head and pets back his ears. Russia's body is filled with the buzz of warm comfort that almost drowns out the sheer terror on the edge of his mind. He starts purring to try and calm himself down. He manages to calm his breathing a little and opens his eyes.

He meets North Dakota's gaze, and she offers a bright, but mischievous smile. Then, she pulls out a digital camera and snaps a picture. Russia's face grows hot. He offers his best imitation of a playful scowl, shoving his other emotions down. She just grins back.

"You calming down now, Ruby?"

Russia doesn't respond. He knows if he opens his mouth, he risks bawling.

'I can't risk that. Especially not in front of a bunch of teens looking to me to be strong.'

"Awww," Ukraine coos mockingly, "Ruuuuuuuuby."

"Shut up," Russia hisses, glaring harshly.

Ukraine smirks. Even still, Russia sees the stress behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath and readies himself for more teasing. The terror at his transformations swirls in his chest. He swallows it back and shifts his attention to how warm America's lap is.

He smells the air. It smells like America, pine needles, and a rusty metallic scent. Russia figures it's probably old blood. He decides not to think about it too much, even though the smell keeps trying to grasp his attention. It's almost intoxicating. He tries his best to shake it off.

"Hey, do you want to hear a story about Russia?" Ukraine offers.

"Sure!" America chirps.

'He seems happy to have a distraction.'

The others perk up at the offer, and Florida claps. They all look very nervous, but eager. Texas looks skittishly around at their surroundings, and Ohio sits next to him, scowling at the shadows.

'It'll be for the best if we distract them a little. We can't afford another breakdown. Not now. Not here,' Russia thinks, looking to the kids.

Russia curls up a little. He looks around into the treetops, searching for movement. The ambient noise of the surroundings is just loud enough to occasionally peak above the ringing. Otherwise, it feels quiet, but not to the point to warrant concern.

'This is going to be embarrassing.'

"So, Russia here has always been a cat boy," Ukraine starts.

The states burst into giggles, and Ukraine sits back with a smirk. Finland laughs. America perks up. Russia curls away trying to hide his face.

'Now more than ever.'

"You mean he's always had magic?"

"Yeah, I guess so. We didn't know what it was called. When we were kids, Papa took us to a....uh... priest! A priest. And the priest said that it's probably something to do with the personification status. So we just figured Russia was just super weird."

Russia grumbles. America threads fingers through his hair. America's giggling shakes Russia a little, and Russia smiles despite his annoyance.

"We used to say he came from the witch. Papa would always tell us not to, but we did."

Russia pouts.

"But it was always pink flashes and then things would just happen. We couldn't figure out why. And sometimes when we would go out to certain places, Russia would come home with ears. And sometimes a tail too."

"That's because Russ has a certain kind of magic," New Mexico explains.

"What do you mean?"

"So," Kansas says, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, "magic can come in two forms. One of them is what Dad has. Dad can hold magic, and he has access to it anywhere. Russia has something different. He can't hold onto it, but he can use it. So if he goes somewhere with magic, he can use it."

"Huh. That... actually explains a lot."

Ukraine shakes his head and his smirk returns.

"Anyway, he got away with a lot of shit. He would constantly knock things over, climb on shelves, everything! He would even pounce on Papa when he was working. He was the only one who could get away with it."

Ukraine's face twists into a grimace before it transforms into an evil smirk.

"He used to play the girl parts when we used to do ballet and gymnastics together. He did the flier parts mostly."

"Shut up!" Russia growls.

America giggles.

"No! And you can't make me. And he used to wear the get-up too!"

"That would explain the backflips," Alberta comments.

"He also sent Papa into frantic searches more times than I can count. He would just disappear and then we would find him on the roof about to jump off into a meter of snow with only boots on."

"You weren't even alive when that happened!" Russia snaps.

"It still happened!" Ukraine exclaims, throwing his hands into the air.

"That sounds like Alaska," America ponders.

"So he's where she gets that from?" Texas asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Probably," South Dakota says with a laugh.

"Probably?" Mexico asks.

"Our heritage can be weird. We figure Alaska is probably Russia's kid if we have to attribute anyone other than the Natives," South Dakota says simply.

"That makes sense."

Ukraine continues to tell tales that make Russia's face go dark red. The only reason he doesn't jump up to physically shut Ukraine's mouth is America's hand in his hair.

He catches sight of his legs again, and his heart lodges into his throat. He wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He glances up to see America giving him a worried look. Russia buries his head into America's stomach, whimpering. His ears are flat against his head. He kicks but finds that it feels strange. The contact makes the balls of his feet tingle.

Ukraine continues talking, and some of the states laugh at the stories. Brazil continues to stoke the flames higher. America pulls Russia up into his lap and Russia tucks his face into America's shoulder. America turns and hums into Russia's ear. Russia shivers a little.

'Never thought I would hear that again.'

"Ruby, are you okay?" America asks, petting Russia's head, "I'll admit, the ears were cute when it first happened, but now I'm worried."

"No. I'm not okay," Russia admits, tears blurring his vision, "I'm not okay."

"Your arms and legs changed too," America comments, "did that ever happen before."

"No."

"Oh... oh no."

America cradles the back of Russia's head with one hand and holds him up with the other arm. Russia closes his eyes tightly. He tries to bite his tongue to keep from crying out, only to yelp. Blood fills his mouth.

"Owwww."

"Are you okay?!"

"No. My teeth are sharp now too."

Russia's words trail off into weeping.

'Why can't this just go back like it always did?'

'Am I going to lose my voice? Am I going to lose my hands? Or what's left of them? What else am I going to lose?'

'I don't want to be a cat...'

America holds him tightly. Russia rubs his head back and forth against America's chest. He finds that it feels comforting. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheeks into the fabric of America's shirt. He smells and finds that America's scent brings a little calm.

He seeks any comfort that he can find to cling to. The overwhelming panic threatens to pull him into a spiral he can't afford to get lost in.

'I just want to go home. I just want things to go back to normal. Please.'

He's not sure who he's begging to, but he figures it couldn't hurt. His nose tingles, and his tongue starts to feel rough on the top of his mouth. He whines.

America hums softly and pets his back.

~

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