#an actual drabble though

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu

warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,

notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags

wc: 1800

Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.

Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.

And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.

He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.

It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.

It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.

He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.

If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.

See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.

It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.

As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.

A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.

At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.

Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.

“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.

“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.

Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.

“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”

He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.

“Hoshina…?”

It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.

You remembered his name.

“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.

“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.

“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.

“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.

“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”

You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”

Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.

“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.

“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.

“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”

Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.

“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”

“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.

Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?

“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?

“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”

There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.

“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.

“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.

But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.

“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.

He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.

“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”

[sequinsandfins]

Annnnd you’re going to write that right? right? 😊

hmmm he's something, but I might have more ideas later 😅💕

"Call him!"

"No."

"CALL HIM!"

"Not yet!"

Nat wiggles the half empty bottle in front of Daniel and he holds out his glass automatically.

"You can't tell me that he hasn't asked."

Daniel blinks as he remembers the string of texts on his phone.

Daniel I am going to the factory, will you still be there?

I'm on my way to the airport now

I'm getting on the plane. Daniel?

I'll call you when I land.

Nat just stares him down and Daniel laughs, "He has." He takes a sip of his third large glass, feeling pleasantly warm. "I'm supposed to call him back."

He reaches into his pocket and unlocks it, swiping to their one sided conversation when it's plucked out of his hand.

Before Daniel knows what's happening, Nat is hitting the phone icon and half a ring later the call is picked up. "Finally!" A tiny voice can be heard from the phone before Nat changes it to loudspeaker.

"Max, I wonder if you have a comment about Christian Horner being unceremoniously dumped by the team... Is it karma do you feel?" Nat says in her serious interviewing voice before she snorts and starts laughing as Daniel grabs the phone back from her.

"Maxy!" Daniel yells, "Come join us!"

"JOIN US!" Natalie calls out from the kitchen where's she's pulling out another bottle of wine from the fridge. "And bring us food!"

"Yes food!" Daniel sighs, his mouth watering at the thought of some pizza. "Please?" He pouts, even though Max can't see him, even though he knows Max will never say no.

Max is only able to get out "Yes—" before Daniel yells out that Max has said yes, and automatically hangs up on him.

.

Max stares at his phone, shaking his head, but moves to quickly pack his things and get on the road. Daniel gets a bit touchy feely when he's tipsy and Max can't wait to see him.

[sugarphoric]

warnings -- slightly suggestive (MDNI)

bsf!choso who loves to sit you on his lap. it became a regular thing somehow, and once it started, it never stopped. not enough chairs? his lap. movie night? his lap. and its almost like youre forced there if it wasnt for you also wanting to sit on his lap, because he'd get all whiny and worried thinking you were mad at him if you didnt sit on his lap, causing you both to fall in this cycle.

there was this one time when you were hanging out with your friends and choso wasnt there yet. you were shared by gojo and geto, them both curious as to why choso always had you on him. it was fun going back and forth between the two, but strangely enough it never felt comfortable, so you had to keep shifting! when choso finally arrived, his eyes were narrow and piercing, jaw tight as he chewed the insides of his cheeks. confused, you could only let out half of a hello before being picked up like a ragdoll as if you weighed nothing, then sat on his lap once again. he had his arms wrapped around you so tightly (almost possessively?) that whole night, and you couldnt even question him on what was wrong :( though you would admit it was far more comfortable than the duo earlier (who were now sending each other knowing glances? weird.)

it was so nice when he'd rub your back or pet you? its a little stupid cuz you feel like his personal puppy, but that doesnt mean you dont like it.. ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა though there would be times where his hands land a little too close to your butt, or when hed play with the hem of your shirt. some days, especially when its late into the night after your movie marathons, where his hands are pressed onto your bare tummy, truly petting you like you were a dumb puppy! sometimes his hands gets a little too close to your boobs, but he'll always pull away anyways! (and youd be a liar if you said you didnt enjoy those small 'accidents')

bsf!choso whos a higher priority than your family - he's set as your emergency contact and is almost part of your family anyways (so its not like theres a bias!!...)

i mean, anytime youd needed help, he was always one call away, willing to drop anything if you just asked. youre on your period and craved chocolate? oh yea, his midterms are in less than an hour but he was already on his way to the convenience store, practically creating a whole basket of goodies like it was your birthday (and you better believe he came back after finishing his tests to massage you and make sure you feel better). you got in a minor car accident and needed someone to talk to to calm your nerves? choso might as well have been the police officer with how fast he showed up on the streets to aid you in person (how did he even know where the accident was? he has your location silly)!

it was also just an added bonus that anytime he came with you to visit your family, they automatically assumed the two of you were in a relationship. awkward blind dates would be cancelled and droning questions and lectures of "when will you get married?" were easily avoided (though it was a little heart wrenching when you both had to stop the act after leaving home... wait what)

bsf!choso who smells so good, you can't help but have half of his closet at your dorm. half of the time (when you weren't given the pleasure of sitting on his lap), youd be sniffing him like a puppy, stuck like velcro to at least one of his body parts. holding his hand and running your fingers along his veins - and then steal a quick sniff masked with a peck to the back of it! when his hair was down it was your favorite! you could reach up as you hugged him, burrowing your face in his hair and neck, contented sighs leaving your lips right up to his furiously red ears.

and that was one thing that you were given special permission of. bsf!choso hated when people touched his hair, but weirdly enough, it felt so so good when you did. bsf!choso would honestly be awaiting to see you (as if he doesnt already) just to feel those small fingers running against his scalp, playing and weaving different braids or styles with his raven locks (it was another added bonus that this meant he could have you on his lap (but this time straddling him!) or gain extra cuddles in bed with you!).

its funny that he even ended up gifting you his cologne and laundry detergent for your birthday. as much as he loved to see you drowning in his clothes, he almost had to move out of his dorm and live with you due to how much of his clothes were magically always at your place! and it helped a bit (and also allowed him to get his clothes back), but they lacked the certain choso-ness to them :(

bsf!choso who gets so confused when people assume youre together. what, is it so weird to have you as his lockscreen and homepage? is it weird that your ringtone is different from the others to always alert him when youre contacting him? he doesnt think thats weird at all, in fact, he thinks its weird that theres still girls out there that think they have a chance with him! its... its not like hes in a relationship with you, but cant they see hes already occupied and focused on something better?

and its not weird that hes oddly possessive when out in public with you. that arm thats always around your shoulders or waist? yea dont worry about it. especially dont worry about how his eyes are literally murderous towards any guy that tries to come close to you.

bsf!choso's favorite thing to do is hug you from the behind, wrapping one arm around your torso inhibiting your movements, while the other comes to lay your chin on his palm, tilting your head up to look at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes (maybe trying to beat those puppy-allegations were pointless after all with how much he enjoyed feeding into this behavior). hes just so happy to have his best friend so small and compliable in his arms, and have your cute little butt wiggle right next to his di-

he wont stop imagining you and your cute face and cute body especially when he falls asleep, wanting to call you to come cuddle at his dorm (but that'll be a problem with how hed have to hide his raging boner). but would it really? hes always sprouting that big mess any time hes next to you anyways, so youre, technically, the one who should be responsible for it. youre also his best friend!! so shouldnt you be the one to help him with his problems?

maybe he'll call you tonight, but after he rubs one out himself as he looks at his favorite album (that's only filled with you)!

[elluqien710]

day 11: credit ⛔️

“To my credit, it wasn’t all my fault,”

protested Turko.

Nelyo sighed. Káno stomped his foot, holding up his ripped and mud-stained papers. “Yes, it is! Turko’s supposed to watch Huan, it’s his dog!”

Turko growled. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave your scribbled sheet music out in the open! You watch your own things!”

“How is this my fault!? Nelyo, tell him it’s not my fault!”

Curvo materialized at the door, his head cocked disinterestedly. “Káno, keep it down, will you?” he said coldly. “I’m trying to work at the moment.”

Nelyo groaned. “Eru, why must I deal with you gremlins?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To my credit, it wasn’t all my fault,”

muttered Celegorm.

Maglor slammed his fist on the table. “It wasn’t all your fault? It wasn’t all your fault!?”

Celegorm and Curufin winced before Maglor’s threatening voice. “We were only trying to—” Celegorm started.

“What happened to both Finrod and Thingol’s daughter was all your fault, and you know it!” Maedhros shouted, his face twisted in fury. “I cannot believe how absolutely horrible you two are!”

Curufin scoffed. “We were trying to help, dear brother. Nargothrond would have been—”

Maedhros stood up. “I have had enough of you two.”

He walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<- day 10: serenade 💗 | day 12: scones 🥐 ->

all drabbles

[teamosc4rr]

Would anyone be interested in a sonadow fic where someone (*cough cough* Amy & maybe Rouge *cough*) puts them on a snowboarding date since they both always like to skate on whatever piece of rubble they find... for some unknown reason

(Except they refuse to see it as a date)

[riza-jes]

Ace’s the storm, the hurricane in human form, who somehow still manages to retain all the strength, power and volatility in his essentially immemorial figure.

Ace is the whirlwind, is smirks, is the grin and the smile in one face, is the searing sun in the storm without rain. Ace is everything, all he wished for, all he ever sought. Ace is the storm with which he bursts into your life, infusing you with the strength to continue on the path you've been following.

He turns your life upside down and yet drawn without a chance for subterfuge into the abyss of the sea, where the world and feelings begin to shine in completely new colours, reaching unprecedented depths and touching all the strings of the soul. It's a grin on the face, it's wicked imitations, it's freckles that sparkle around the campfire in the night, it's an ingenuous offer of friendship and a shoulder of solidarity. Ace is rage and anger for defence, for fighting. He is unwavering loyalty and sheer will, Ace who is no match for the size of giants, but manages to stand on equal footing with them.

Ace is the peace and stability of the Grandline Sea on the best day. It's a fire in the freezing winter of Winter Island. It's a flame of confidence that lights your way. Ace is the windstorm, he is the storm, he is the tornado. He is a natural phenomenon that gives, and gives, with heat and without combusting. Ace is the polyphony of a sea storm, and a measured lullaby in a ship's cabin.

With Ace one feels at home, and with Ace one feels like being in the abyss of the storm in the crow's nest itself.

Ace is the flame, the source and the Will. He is, there he is. And you reach for him like the brightest star.

He is the storm and death and fire is his essence.

And with him you're sure you'll achieve anything.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Shopping

I am back at it again because I had ideas. (don't worry friend @spotaus things are being planned and I got many many ideas :3 but before those happen stuff needs to be established and put in place!)

I was debating between like four different drabble ideas but settled on this one. Something calming for a bit :)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

as always. No editing and no beta.

*-------------------*

Dust shoots Killer another glare as he holds Nightmare clsoer "I mean it Killer. get out of my blindspot. It is getting annoying."

Nightmare looks from Dust to Killer and sees the large grin on Killer's face as he skips after Dust and Nightmare "Nah. I think it is good i am here because it is your blindspot!"

Dust grumbles as he holds Nightmare clsoer. Nightmare just pushes his skull under Dust's chin as he listens to the two bicker. Dust gives him a quick nuzzle before shooting Killer another glare "Why are you even here?" Killer still has a large grin on his face "I am backup!"

Dust groans "I am getting Nightmare clothes."

Killer nods as he follows them "backup!"

Dust huffs before looking back at Nightmare. Nightmare sees the glare disappear from his face as Dust lets out a sigh before smiling at Nightmare "makes you start to wonder who helped who out of getting stuck in a wall."

Killer gasps loudly "That only happened a few times!"

Ngihtmare grins and laughs as he leans fully against Dust again. He likes being held by Dust and Dust must like it too because he always holds him.

Nightmare figured it was because his spine is fragile and walking for too long starts to bother him but Dust still just holds him. always. Maybe he also likes being close like this?

Thoguht Nightmare isn't sure what Dust gets out of it but he must really like something abut the close contact.

They walk past another few people who look at them. Nightmare shoots a glance as Dust and Killer continue to bicker. They seem to shoot Dust and him worried looks but chuckle once they realise that Dust and Killer are just doing their way of bonding.

Nightmare always thought the flirting between those two was weird but then again he thought most things dating was weird. Maybe because he was still a child in his soul...

Not that it matters.

Nightmare shoots a glance and spots Killer grinning widely as his soul is clearly in soulshape and looks stable. Dust may have an annoyed look on his face but he has a tiny smile on his face.

Nightmare hides his face in Dust's sweater but he can't hide the purr. He wants them to be happy. They are happy even with him near.

Dust notices of course nad gives him another nuzzle "comfy? Spine okay?"

Nightmare nods "Yeah."

Dust hums to signal he heard him but still rubs his back.

They finally stop near one of the smaller houses which is the clothing shop for this town.

Dust tilts his skull as Killer snorts "oh that is adorable. ready to dress Nightmare as a tiny old man?" he grins

Dust shoots Killer a glare "It isn't that bad..." then he looks at the store "just... a bit old fashioned..." he looks at him "That okay?"

Nightmare nods before shrugging "I don't get why i need new things..."

Dust sighs. Killer leans on Dust's other shoulder and shoots him a wink "Because you are still wearing Dust's things. and quite honestly. Dusty does not have a large enough wardrobe to dress both of you."

Nightmare frowns as he pushes clsoer to Dust. He doesn't mind wearing stuff them them. It are things that are well worn and soft and smell of them and old laundry detergent.

Dust nuzzles his skull "It will be nice. You can check what you like and what feels nice and is comfortable."

Nightmare frowns "it is expensive." which is another reason why he doesn't want to get anything.

Dust frowns and Killer quickly answers "That is a worry for us. And Dusty said it is fine so it is fine." he grins.

Dust nods "made some money. more than enough to get you some things."

Nightmare wants to disagree more but Dust walks into the store.

The inside isn't like he thought it would be. there is actually quite a number of nice looking things and looks more modern than you would think from the outside.

DUst makes a pleased sound before smiling smugly "Seems like they were just showing off the knitwear because it is autumn." he shoots Killer a look "Almost as if i did my research and knew it would be okay here." and he walks further into the store.

Killer sputters before following them "I know that Dusty! You always do that! I was just joking around!" he pouts but doesn't offer anything. Really just a shadow. It reminds Nightmare a bit about how it was before. Killer beign his right hand and always by his side to help and protect him. It still feels different now and even when thinking back to those memories they feel different.

Killer spots him looking at him and grins before wriggling his phalanges in a tiny wave at him. Nightmare huffs and pushes back closer to Dust.

Dust is looking through some clothes on the hanger "Stop bothering Nightmare." he pulls something off and looks it over critically. he holds it up for him to inspect and Nightmare just shrugs.

Killer pouts as he crosses his arms "Just having fun. And tiny boss is fine with it!" he grins at him "Right nighty?"

Nightmare shrugs. he doens't mind. it is nice.

Dust rolls his eye lights and doesn't look at Killer "Even if he is fine with is safe it for later. first buying clothes. Then you can tire him out."

Nightmare huffs and grumbles. he doesn't need tiring out. he is perfectly fine. Dust holds up another sweater and he shrugs again.

"Oh hello there dears! Can you find it all?"

Killer nad Dust turn and Nightmare feels Dust freeze for a moment. Yeah not a surprise because the woman looks a lot like Toriel. But Nightmare doubts it is the her of this universe. The closer he looks the more this woman seems like a sheep monster.

Killer and Dust must see it too as Killer grins "Pretty much! but we got it!"

Dust shoots him a look "Killer knock it off." he looks at the lady "We are looking for stuff for the little guy."

The lady smiles sweetly "Oh! You two must be two of Sans- I am sorry, Crop's friends!" she looks them over and her gaze lingers on Dust for a moment before settling on Nightmare. Nightmare can't stop the instinct of holding on tighter to Dust. He doesn't like having stranger's gazes on him.

The smiles sweetly "I can see the resemblance! You must be very proud of such a young handsome little boy!"

Dust looks to the side and shrugs but his hold on him tightens. Killer snorts, which is fair as they aren't actually related. Maybe she just sees the resemblance before Nightmare now looks much more like a tiny swap sans, as that was the original form his mother used to craft their bodies. And Dust is the one of the four that still resemblance who he used to be.

At elast Nightmare assumes that is why people think they see a resemblance. That or they are just racists and think all skeletons look alike.

the woman smiles "I am sure there is something fitting for him. Do you need any help?"

Killer's laugh turns cold as he smiles widely "No thanks! We got this!"

Dust rolls his eye lights and nudges him in the side "Stop it." he looks back to the lady "I was wodnering what the... organisation was. I wanted to look at stuff his size..." and he looks at the things he had been looking at with a glare.

The sheep monster looks a bit paler after Killer's interaction but smiles sweetly at Dust. "It is a bit of a mixmatch. Of all the stuff that is handmade it only has a few of each size. you will have to guestimate those. The imported clothes are by the walls, those have more standard sizing."

Dust nods "I see." and he starts walking towards the side first to check the sizing.

Killer grins as he leans close and whispers "Holding a babybones does wonders for making you look approachable"

Dust shoots him a glare and hisses "One word and I will put you in a wall myself." and he stomps over towards the clothes.

Nightmare still doens't understand why Killer thinks that kinda flirting is efficient but what does he know.

Dust is clearly unimpressed with the clothing offered with the more standard design and fabric. but they use it to figure out which size he is before moving towards the handmade stuff.

DUst and Nightmare check what is nice and soft as Killer shadows them. Staying nearby and pretty much glaring at anyone who as much as glances in their direction.

They end up settling for two big sweaters and some sweats. They wait by the cash register as Dust has picked him up again.

The nice woman smiles at them "That will be 140!" she smiles.

Killer winces at the price and Nightmare pushes closer to Dust "I don't need two." wool sweaters are expensive...

Dust shrugs as he looks at Killer "Be usefull and hold him for a moment." and Ngihtamre feels hismelf be handed over to Killer. Dust takes out some cash from his inventory and counts quickly before putting most of the stash he had on the counter "That should be enough." he stashes whatever is left.

The lady counts it and smiles as she puts it away. She packs it in a bag and holds it out to Dust "Thank you for shopping! And Can I just say it is lovely to see such a devoted father."

Dust shrugs and mutters a thanks before shooting Killer a warning look.

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare "How are you this huggable tiny boss?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds unto Killer. Killer is also nice to be held by.

They leave the store together and walk back towards the parking lot. Something about meeting up again to go back to Crop's farm. Nightmare isn't really sure. He is already getting tired again adn he mumbles unhappily.

Killer purrs and coos "It is okay tiny boss. babybones need their sleep and rest after all."

Dust nods "Shopping is always busy." he shoots Killer a glare "Why is why i didn't want you to get him tired or overwhelmed."

Killer groans "Yeah yeah you were right. you are always right. can i go back to nuzzlign the baby now?"

Dust looks considerate before nodding "You may."

Killer grins and the nuzzles resume and Nightmare wants to pout and push him off but it is so nice and he can feel himself start to relax as he starts to purr again.

He likes it when his family holds him.

*-------------------*

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[good-beanswrites]

john x fuuta ?👉👈 or 090309

I love the dynamic between them all, thank you for the request! I went with an earlier meeting for them (well, one of the first times Fuuta's aware of speaking with John, at least). As much as I joke about Fuuta being starstruck by his strength in the attack, I tried to take a more serious route for the "something to rely on" vibe.

John’s eyes flicked over Fuuta, sprawled out on his bedding and looking up expectantly.

“Man, you look like shit.”

Fuuta scowled deeper. “I asked for the reason you’re here in the middle of the fucking night, not your opinion.”

“That is the reason I came.”

Somehow, amid all the other things he had to worry about given the horror of the past few days and exile that followed, Mikoto had still found the time to lose sleep over Fuuta’s condition. John had always liked the guy, but he wasn’t in the business of watching over people he didn’t truly care about. He didn’t know what Mikoto saw in him to cause such an overreaction.

Though, with the futon dragged to the bars of the cell, and bathing him in the dim light of the guard’s tower, it was becoming clear that Mikoto’s concern was indeed warranted. Fuuta appeared deathly. The fresh injuries had been bandaged, but there were stains where blood was beginning to seep through. His eye – the one that had survived the ordeal – was bloodshot and rimmed with dark bags. His hair was as tangled as the rumpled hoodie it poked out of.

Fuuta was still staring in anticipation. It took John a moment to understand why. 

“You recognize me.”

“No shit. Mikoto came in here like a fumbling idiot earlier today. He wanted to make sure I was okay or whatever. Like I’d be okay after what happened!” He paused, a clanging from someone else’s cell briefly distracting him. “But you… the way you carry yourself… it’s different.”

“Not that different. I’m here for the same reason.”

The plan was simple. Once Fuuta slept, Mikoto would relax, and everyone would be happy. If it turned out to be his injuries keeping him awake, John didn’t mind crushing Fuuta’s pride and explaining his weakness to the doctor to get more painkillers. If it was noisy neighbors, he’d teach one of those girls a lesson the following day. If the problem was just plain insomnia, well, John’s swinging arm was still completely functional...

“I just want to make sure you’re sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me you’re as disgustingly sentimental as him.”

John’s expression twitched. He didn’t appreciate the condescension. That was Mikoto’s most admirable trait, after all – offering help to others even when he was falling apart himself. He was so selfless, so self-sacrificial. It was no wonder John felt compelled to do the same for him. But Fuuta…

“Ugh, he’s always trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone around here, it makes me sick. Nice words don’t do shit. Look where his friendship with Kotoko got him, eh? That’s what these fools still don’t understand – you need to face these things head-on.”

“Oi, don’t be hard on me just for caring.” He didn’t say it as any sort of gentle encouragement; it was a command, and Fuuta understood. He snapped his attention away from where he’d been peering around the bars. “The world needs more people with that kindness. That optimistic view of life, of others, no matter what – it’s why I’ll do everything I can to save me.”

Silence stretched after the intense comment. Fuuta was looking away again, and John couldn’t read him. When he did speak, his voice came out more defeated than expected.

“Tch. Well. Not all of us have that luxury.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

His eyebrows raised.

Cheeks reddening, Fuuta hurried to add, “I mean someone to have your back like that. I wish I could be half as relaxed as that, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. I need to be strong myself, I don’t have anyone else to take care of my problems for me.”

It hit him suddenly, that everything came down to that. Relief washed over him, now that a clear, easy, (and nonviolent) solution had presented itself.

“What if you did? I could take over your little sentry duty for the night.”

“W-what do you –?”

He gestured to where Fuuta was laying. “No need to play dumb. You’ve been keeping an eye on everything, even the other side of the guard’s tower. The sounds from around cell eight have caught your attention. You’re positioned so you can see cell six, but haven’t moved all the way over, because cell ten has easiest access from the right.”

“The others would say it’s pointless, or that they’re handling it. I’m not buying it, though. I don’t care if they say it’s crazy of me to do.”

“I think…” John’s posture softened. “I think it’s very selfless of you.”

He was constantly amazed at Fuuta’s tendency to react to everything as if it were some world-shattering statement just told to him.

“So?” He prodded before Fuuta’s expression could grow any more wide-eyed. “How about it?”

 “I mean… they told me about the attacks… what you did…”

John set his jaw. No matter how many times it had happened in the past few days, it still stung to see how quickly people turned against him because of the fight. He thought they all had come to terms with each other’s capabilities for violence, but as usual, the moment he showed his true face, the world turned against him.

Of course Fuuta could never relax knowing such a violent and unpredictable person was sitting right beside him through the night. It was a miracle he hadn’t panicked immediately at the sight of yet another cold, towering figure appearing at his door in the middle of the night.

John stretched his right arm across his chest. It looked like his original solution still stood. Fuuta said problems should be faced head-on. Surely he’d understand this was for his own good.

“…Yeah, okay.” Fuuta gave a decisive nod. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “I trust you.”

“I –” John blinked. “What?”

“You understand me. You understand what it takes to be in a place like this.” His gaze flit away momentarily. “You’re incredibly strong. You’re prepared, and have good instincts, and your confidence is –" Noticing how intently John was listening, he interrupted himself to bark, “but don’t think I couldn’t handle this on my own! It’s only because you offered, and it’s a smart move. I’ll just sleep for a bit, we can take shifts. Wake me in three hours, okay?”

“Fine by me.” A little lying was definitely better than what else he’d had in mind.

Fuuta moved his futon over a few feet so John could settle into his carefully chosen spot on the ground. Everything was all set to begin keeping watch, until a new sound rose up to drown out the other noises in the panopticon – soft snoring from beside him.

He glanced over in disbelief at the instantaneous security Fuuta had sunk into. All the tension had melted away from his face and shoulders. He lay completely at peace.

John had achieved his goal. He should be celebrating. Instead, he couldn’t help heaving a heavy sigh.

How did he end up with two self-destructive idiots to watch over?

[yaralulu]

how and why am I expected to continue writing my sad little tamcien fic after the new sexy (so sexy) art of them dropped🙁🙁.

[bewitchingbloom]

same ghosts in a new home

I've been trying to find some writing prompts to turn to when I want to write but don't know what, and when these prompts passed by my dash earlier I knew I found the list to pull from. I used a random number generator to pick which prompt to write. Up first we have:

same ghosts in a new home (961 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: T for implied sexual activity (nothing graphic)

Ship: The Commander/Daeran/Woljif

Other notes: Second Person POV

In some of the books you’d read in the past, you’d run into descriptions of the lingering effects of an argument. You’d always dismissed them as poetic hogwash. But now, as you stand in the middle of the sitting room of our new home, you could swear there was an echo, the last vestiges of heated words and raised voices falling back through time to haunt you. 

Truthfully, you're not sure what you said to set Woljif off, or why I was upset with your refusal to apologize. We knew what you were like by now, and you thought you were being nice. Though, if you're being honest with yourself, you know how your words can land more like poisoned barbs than playful jabs. This fight might not be entirely your fault, but you're not completely innocent in it either. 

With a sigh, you turn towards the liquor cabinet, situated right next to the stairway you once sat in waiting for us to join you in. You remember the soft words and the heated embraces, reminders that your melancholy was as ephemeral as it was unfounded. Even now, the memory brings a small smile to your lips. “You will never pale into insignificance.” “You're stuck with us, Your Excellency.” 

To the hells with it. Abandoning your original trajectory, you turn towards the door. Judging by the light filtering in through the window, you have a couple hours yet before the sun goes down. Perhaps you have a plan, perhaps you just want some fresh air. Either way, you’re out of the house before you even realize it. 

****

Now, as for you, Woljif, you had stormed out of the house into the backyard. It was still mostly an overgrown ruin, a choking tangle of weeds and debris that I intend to one day transform into a garden bursting with life. The only thing of note was the small part of the Sellen River that flowed through it, a sliver of pure, bubbling water that you once spent an evening frolicking in with Daeran and I. The memories are pleasant, and the guilt that pervades you at their arrival is entirely unwelcome. 

With an aggravated sigh, you pull one of your daggers out of its holster. Even now it’s a habit to make sure you’re armed. Maybe there will come a day when you don’t feel the need, and when it comes, that’s how you’ll know you’ve truly lost your edge. With a frown, you toss the knife at a nearby stump. It sticks with a loud thud, not unlike the sound the door made when you slammed it come out here. 

Your edge…that’s what this about. Just two years ago you were still running with the Family and scrabbling to get by day to day. Now, here you are, married to two of the most prestigious people in the country and the beginnings of a home to call your own. This is something you should be happy about, and you are! But there is a part of you that feels like you’re betraying everything you’d ever known, stabbing the boy you once were in the back for the first shred of kindness and love that had been shown to you. 

You pull the dagger free, all the anger in your veins dying as the blade comes loose from the wood. Daeran didn’t mean anything by it, but the quip had been phrased just right, careless in the way only someone who’d never faced such hardship could be. Now you know that the wounds of your past still stung.

Taking a deep breath, you flop onto the stump, staring out into the sunlit water. Just a few more minutes, then you’ll be ready to go back inside. Whether it’ll be to make amends or fan the flames again, you’re not sure. But judging by the loose grip you have on your dagger, you are so much more tired of holding grudges than you realized. 

****

At least, I want to believe these are the thoughts that ran through both of your heads. Earlier, when Daeran’s comment landed poorly and led to the most explosive fight I’d seen you two have since the Crusade, I’d felt perfectly useless. All of us still carry the ghosts of our past, and we’d spent so long trying to bury mine that I’d forgotten that you two still had yours to deal with. Words cannot describe how inadequate I felt as a partner in that moment.

Now, the three of us are lying on the floor of the living room, my shortcomings only still plaguing my own mind. You two had made up hours ago, and we carried on our evening in the way newlyweds are wont to do. But as you two drifted off to sleep, I found myself lying awake, haunted by my own, brand new ghost - the one borne of fear that one day I’d lose both of you. I’d been so wrapped up in the tangible ways that could happen, I didn’t realize all the other ways it could happen. 

The two of you lie on either side of me, your hands clasped below my breasts as your breathing evens out. The floor is far from comfortable, and the throw pillows from the couch aren’t much better, but just being here with you two…it doesn’t make it more comfortable, but there’s no other place I’d rather be. The crackling fire wants to lull me to sleep, and I know I should rouse you two before morning comes and the housemaid finds the three of us lying here naked. But for the moment, I am just savoring this moment, and thinking of ways we can help our ghosts to play nicely together in our new home.

[muzzlemouths]

Were the DMD boys ever witnesses to a baby's firsts? Like first words or first steps?

Superstar Shopping Center, circa 1977

“Did you need help with that?”

Sun moseys up to a mother who looks like she’s got her hands full – literally. Four shopping bags balanced on one arm and a baby in the other. A second child — five or six, if he had to guess — clings to the tail of her mother’s jacket in lieu of a free hand, dressed in her Sunday Best. She ducks behind her mother’s arm as Sun nears and addresses him with a look tied between awe and apprehension.

Contrarily, her mother regards Sun with nothing but relief, handing over all but one of her bags the moment his hands extend to take them. “Well, thank you!” She reorients the remaining bag to sit at her elbow so the little girl at her side has a proper handhold and gently scolds her for continuing to hide.

“It’s quite alright,” Sun assures her with a kind smile. He crouches to be more at eye-level with the child and offers her a little wave, taking no offense to the way she peeks only slightly out from behind her mother. “That’s a very pretty dress,” he says. It’s a Carter's collared plaid, Christmas-time red, with a white dog-eared collar and rabbit embroidery. Perfectly suited for the season. “Are you headed somewhere special?”

“Just down to Shutterbug,” the mother laughs, answering Sun’s question when her daughter doesn’t budge. “I know it’s still early in the season, but I have an endless list of things to get around to before the month’s end, so we’re just going to get our photos done now, and the family will just receive their cards a little early, this year.”

“Oh, certainly,” he nods sagely, as if he’s even once sent a Christmas card himself, “better to get it over and done with before everyone and their mother realizes they’ve forgotten to sign and seal their envelopes!”

“Exactly!” She laughs again. “I figure, well, I might as well get some gift shopping done since I’m already here, but–”

Right on cue, the infant in her arms begins to wail his poor little head off, and she grimaces.

“Finding it hard to get anything done with your hands full?” Sun asks, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Well, that’s nothing I can’t fix! I could carry your other bags for you, or–”

“Could you babysit?”

He straightens with a jolt, nearly dropping the bags he already carried in the process. “Oh! Well, um, company policy doesn’t exactly allow me to–”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour, at most.” She gives him a pleading look. “You’re coded with childcare protocols, aren’t you?”

“I–” Sun scrambles for an answer. “My training extends to some childcare etiquette, but–”

“Perfect!” She lofts the infant into his arms like he is nothing more than a small sack of potatoes. “This is George. He’s nine months old as of last week, was just changed, and ate an hour ago, so he should be an angel for you.”

“W-What about his shoes?” He tucks the child against his shoulder and gestures worriedly towards his itty little toes, clothed in nothing but the navy blue footie he wears.

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s still too young!” The woman insists, “George has only just learned how to crawl, I doubt he’ll be walking any time soon. You have nothing to worry about!”

“But–”

“I’ll come find you in an hour when I’m all finished up. Thank you again!”

The mother turns on her heel like she’s being chased out by fire, leaving Sun there in the center of the mall aisle, still as a statue and stunned into silence.

There was a kernel of truth to his words. Both he and Moon had been programmed with the know-how in terms of child rearing basics, and in fact it was the very first frame of coding that he recalls having. For what purpose, he isn’t sure. It has lied dormant beneath layers of more relevant protocols for years and only ever makes an appearance when he’s interacting with the few children the mall sees from time to time. Even still, it is nothing in the way of proper training for how to care for an infant so small, and for so long.

Needless to say, he was panicking.

The first thing he does after quieting the infant’s cries is find another employee and hand off the bags, instructing them to be brought to Shutterbug and kept behind the desk for the time being.

With his hands freed he can focus all of his attention on the child who, for what it’s worth, has been a perfect angel in the short time since he was haphazardly carted into Sun’s arms. Quiet as a church mouse after that first little outburst, and just as cute, too, the little bundle of joy looking up at him with big brown eyes full of wonder.

Sun returns his gaze with a long sigh. “Now then, what are we going to do with you?”

The protocols that once were dormant now rose to the surface and screamed at him to engage the child in “stimulating activities“, whatever that meant. Instructions for playtime involved everything from games like peekaboo and patty-cake to more developmental activities, such as playing music, coloring, or toying with building blocks. Sun doubted that Bee Gees’ hit single “Stayin’ Alive” was anything in the way of educational for the tiny tot as it played over the speakers, and — to the best of his knowledge — he can’t recall ever having access to building blocks or coloring books. That left nothing but the traditional baby games, tried and true, and easy enough!

He borrows a small blanket from a store nearby and finds a cozy spot on the floor, tucked safely between two plant boxes, to set him down. Sun finds that playing these games comes almost naturally to him — but that’s a given, isn’t it? He follows the instruction manual in his code to the letter, pride and joy overwhelming his stint of uncertainty each time he comes out from hiding behind his hands to the sound of shrill laughter, every “Peek-a-boo!” earning him a motley of giggles and a baby-toothed smile.

Distraction arrives in the form of an employee struggling to carry a stack of boxes into the store behind him. He’s on his feet and across the room in an instant as one protocol briefly overrides the other, and it’s only for a moment — just a moment — but when he turns around again it is to the sight of an empty blanket.

His charge has gone missing.

Panic overwhelms every one of his sensors, rushing along his circuits like adrenaline through veins gripping him with a fear so potent it threatens to shut down his system right then and there.

No, think! His mother said he had only just learned to crawl, which meant little George couldn’t have gone far. Unless the infant hadn’t gone anywhere by himself at all, and rather, someone had come along and–

Sun shut down that train of thought the moment it struck him. He would never forgive himself if something so terrible happened on his watch, saying nothing of what management would do to him if a child was abducted right from under his nose.

He decides the best course of action right now is to follow the same protocol he would use for any other “lost” child. Yes, lost, that’s all they were. It’s so easy to get lost in a mall as large as this one. Sun comforts himself with the knowledge that he has never let a lost child go unfound before. His success rate is a perfect 100%, and he intends to keep it that way.

First, he scans the security cameras for any sight of the child. He is sure to look in every nook and cranny, and he deflates with growing dread when that little navy footie doesn’t appear anywhere on the screens. His voice cuts through the employee radio a moment later and describes the child with every possible detail he can think of, asking that any sighting of the little straggler be reported to him immediately. He hopes against every star in the sky that the mother doesn’t happen to overhear from an employee nearby.

Lastly, he heads out in search of help.

Moon is meant to be working on the upper floor today, helping Sun handle the usual holiday rush, and his lack of response to the radio call is concerning. Not too concerning, though, given that Sun finds him right where he’d been expecting to.

That is, sprawled atop the lockers in the employee break room, one arm dangling over the side, the other resting casually over his waist, and a VOGUE magazine draped over his face.

‘Lazy’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of the words Sun wants to use. They’ve talked about this, the bad habit having put Moon in trouble a number of times already, but that’s an argument for another day.

There’s no time to mince words right now, and so he doesn’t. Instead, Sun stalks across the room and slams his fist against the lockers beneath his sleeping coworker, who sits upright with such force that his head makes contact with the ceiling and crashes through like a train into glass.

It might have been funny if Sun wasn’t as whipped up into a panic as he is, but as it stands he can hardly even keep from raising his voice when he addresses Moon with a scowl. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sun hisses, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. “I take it you didn’t hear my radio call?”

Moon serves him with a glower of his own, snarling deep within his voicebox as he runs his hand over the glassy side of his faceplate to ensure that it’s still intact. He has the decency to look a little guilty, if only for a moment, cerulean blue eyes lowering to the radio attached at his hip that is visibly turned to OFF.

“Of course not,” Sun tuts.

Griping, Moon dusts the ceiling powder from his shoulders. “What could be so important that you had to–”

“I lost a baby.”

The words render him speechless, a long, uncomfortable silence taking up the space between them for all of a minute before Moon blurts out, “Sun, you don’t have a baby.”

“That’s because I lost him!” Sun shrills, beginning to pace. “I was helping a mother with her bags, and she asked me to babysit, a-and I know we aren’t technically allowed to, but– but it all just happened so fast!” His arms flailed for emphasis. “She said he wasn’t even walking yet, I thought it’d be easy! Everything was going so well, too, we were playing a game of peek-a-boo and then – then someone needed help. I only had my back turned for a minute, Moon. Maybe even less! But then I turned around, and…”

“You lost a baby,” he mutters to himself. Moon runs both hands over his face, sighing into his palms. “You lost a baby,” he repeats. “How do you lose an entire child?”

“I don’t know!” Sun answers, voice cracking with guilt. “Will you help me find them?”

“Obviously.” Moon hops down from the lockers (pointedly ignoring the massive hole in the ceiling – he’d come up with an excuse to tell management later) and is already crossing the room when he speaks again. “Management will take it out on both of us if they find out, so you need to get a grip. Your face looks like you just watched someone plummet to their death, for fucks’s sake.” He pauses at the door. “Did you get a scan of their face?”

“O-Of course!”

“Good. Transfer the image to me along with any other information that might be helpful. I’ll search the exits, you take the first story department stores.”

“What about the second floor?”

He fits him with a quizzical expression, going as far as to form an eyebrow with the stars on his faceplate screen and arch it pointedly. “You said this kid wasn’t walking yet,” Moon reminds him. “If someone ‘napped the little guy, they aren’t going to stick around, much less be caught shopping. They’ll head for the exits, first.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And if you just coincidentally happened to have been babysitting the world’s fastest crawler, they would still be stuck on the first floor,” he continues, “which is why we’re checking there first.”

“Right. Right. You’re right.” Sun’s nod is shaky at best. His hands wring together with a tension that threatens to pop the joints out of place with each anxious tug.

Moon sighs and crosses the room again to place a hand on Sun’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he comforts, giving the shoulder a gentle squeeze, “but we need to go now. You won’t fix anything by standing here worrying.”

“Right,” he repeats, working to smother his nerves for the sake of focusing on the task at hand. “You check the exits, I’ll check the department stores. We’ll meet up at the fountain in thirty minutes if neither of us find anything?”

“Ten minutes,” Moon asserts. He wastes no further time, leaving Sun with only that and a firm nod before pacing out of the room.

Sun hopes they aren’t already too late.

-

Their search yields nothing but more disappointment. Ten painfully long minutes of searching that ends with them meeting at the fountain equally empty handed and with no further leads.

“We’re too late,” wails Sun, already catastrophizing. “How am I going to explain this to their mother? She’ll never forgive me, I’ll never forgive me–” His fingers hook around the rays beside his chin, the thin metal groaning beneath the force and threatening to snap right then and there, “–and management — stars, Moon, we’re going to be dismantled over this!”

“Lower your voice!” Moon snaps. He looks around, ensuring that that their crime — Sun’s crime — hasn’t been overheard. Luckily, it appears the fountain has drowned out their conversation sufficiently. “You need to calm down,” he continues. “I’m sure they’re somewhere around here.”

“We’ve checked everywhere!” His left ray bends under the pressure, molding to the shape of his fingers, slowly but surely. “I should have never let this happen. What was I thinking, turning my back on them? Now they’re all alone, o-or hurt, somewhere, or–”

“Hey, hey.” Moon takes him by the wrist, careful yet firm as he pries Sun’s fingers away from his mangled ray then holds his hand at a distance, so he can’t hurt himself further. “You made a mistake,” he agrees, “but it’s not fair to hold all of that blame yourself. You have no frame of reference for this sort of thing, we aren’t meant to be taking care of children in the first place.”

“I should have known better!” Sun insists. “How can I be expected to run a daycare if I can’t even look after one kid?”

Moon freezes, his optics flickering in a blink. “We–” slowly, he releases Sun’s wrist, “–we aren’t a daycare, Sun. We’re a mall. Are…are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Alarms and notices flood his screen, blocking Moon from view. Corroded files long since forgotten behind firewalls and newly instated protocols. He looks for answers in their overwhelming code and finds nothing but more questions; a lingering sense of awareness always just out of his reach. Then they’re gone, swept away all at once as his system tidies itself up, and he can think clearly again. “We’re in a mall,” he echoes, nodding to himself, “we run a mall. We’re mascots, not – not–” He faces Moon with a calmer disposition, forcing a smile, “I’m alright, now.”

“I always preferred the term Icon,” says Moon, “’mascot’ makes us sound like those people in animal suits waving around signs outside of businesses.” He laughs, and Sun laughs, too, but it’s strained. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He sighs with the last crumb of uncertainty. “I’m fine, just…confused, I guess. I think the anxiety is getting to me.” When he straightens again it’s with newfound gusto, a determination to make things right. “None of our employees have reported seeing anyone carting off with a baby that fits George’s description, so he must still be here. Do you want to try the second floor after all?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” says Moon. He takes another look around, eyes scanning the area for any possible lead, until his star-studded eyebrow arches downward. “You said he was wearing a blue footie?”

“Navy blue,” Sun nods his confirmation, “with a little white pocket on the front.”

“Like that?”

He follows Moon’s point all the way to the escalator, where good ol’ George is sat, halfway up to the second story, already, suckling at his thumb like this is any other Tuesday.

“That’s–” Sun feels like he’s going to scream, “that’s him!”

“Huh. Baby on an escalator,” he mutters inquisitively. “Never seen that before.”

“Moon!”

Not wanting to risk any more dillydallying, Sun rushes past him and beelines through the crowd, anxiety pulsing through him tenfold as he gets caught up in a group of customers gathered on the escalator themselves.

Moon takes an alternative route, opting to skip the escalator steps all together. Instead he leaps directly onto the handrail, steady and practiced, and carefully avoids his customer’s fingers as he races upward.

Sun meets him at the top an excruciating few seconds after and feels his composure slip further upon seeing him empty handed. “Where–?”

“I don’t know,” Moon interrupts, looking just as confused. “He was already gone when I got up here.”

“Seriously?” He braces both palms across his arms, hugging himself tightly so he doesn’t just rip out his rays all together. “He’s a baby, for Pete’s sake. How far could he have gone? How does this keep happening?”

“There!” Moon points a little ways off, where little George — somehow, someway — is spotted riding a runaway janitor’s cart, its wheels spiraling uncontrollably forward and headed straight for the wall.

“Stop that cart!” Shrieks Sun, already halfway across the room and hot on the cart’s tail.

The crowd is thick, clusters of customers all aiming to get their holiday shopping in before the real chaos begins, and it makes the already out of hand situation that much harder.

Sun hears the crash before he sees it, and feels his battery operated heart sink. The sight he’s met with upon finally reaching the end of the balcony is disastrous at best. The cart rests in a broken mess on the floor, having evidently bounced into a pair of trash cans rather than collide with the wall. One of said cans has toppled onto its side from the impact, and the trail of garbage leading out of it paints a perplexing picture.

Moon catches up with him a minute later, fans whirring like he’s out of breath. “Is he–”

“Gone,” Sun answers, aghast. He points to the breadcrumbs (literally) that trail out of the toppled can. “I think he fell into the garbage.”

“Well, that’s better than the wall,” hums Moon. “Maybe it cushioned his fall? And then the trashcan fell over…” he trails off.

“And he just…crawled out?” Sun finishes the thought, then raises his chin. The two share a dumbfounded expression.

“Sun, what kind of mutant child did you agree to babysit?”

“Don’t be rude!” He chastises. “George is just…special.”

“Yeah, specially designed to outwit us. They should have called him Curious George.” His eye follows the garbage trail until it peters out a few feet down. “Where do you suppose he went now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sun groans. “Should we split up?”

“Good idea. You take the east wing, I’ll go west. Reconvene in thirty minutes?”

“Ten,”‌ corrects Sun, grimacing at the deja vu. “His mother promised an hour, and it’s already been over half of that. If we can’t find him in ten minutes, then we - we–”

“We are going to find him,” Moon assures, bolstering Sun’s confidence as best as he can. “We just need to focus, alright? No more running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Sun nods his agreement. “Right, okay. You’re right. I won’t let a baby run me in circles around my own mall.” His frazzled expressions calms, at that, and he smiles. “Just a nine-month infant who crawls a little faster than normal, that’s all he is. Easy peasy!”

-

What happens next is neither easy nor peasy. In fact, calling it ‘running circles’ is an understatement. In the next ten minutes alone, little George sends both of them out on nothing short of a wild goose chase, appearing in nigh impossible positions each and every time and always just out their grasp.

Sun is the first to find him. Tucked into the one corner of a store that the cameras don’t reach, donning a pair of sunglasses of all things (upside-down, mind you), and playing with a silicone whisk from the kitchenware section. Sun is only a short distance away when a customer taps him on the shoulder and asks where they can find the bathroom. Of course, the little tot is already gone when he turns back around.

A few meters down, Moon discovers some discarded sunglasses on the floor. He spots a familiar pair of white padded feet a moment later and finds George climbing the side of an information kiosk. The employee inside is busy with a customer and doesn’t even notice the little rascal scaling the grounded kiosk sign like he was born to climb Everest. They notice Moon, though, and are all too eager to introduce one of the mall’s very own mascots to the customer who is, apparently, visiting for the very first time. It’s all Moon can do just to act polite in front of the woman as his guest-orientation protocols take over, keeping him paralyzed there even as the infant merrily drops from the sign and disappears from his sight.

Five minutes later Sun hears a shrill of laughter and turns around a corner to see George playing in the plant trough like it’s a sandbox, his navy footie all but smothered in dirt. An internal scream rips silently through his system as he grapples with the knowledge that he’s now going to get an earful even if he does successfully get his hands on the kid.

True to character, George is nowhere to be found when Sun winds up in front of the planter. He calms his nerves and protocols alike by fixing the poor flowers back into their proper position from where they had been carelessly plucked out and thrown aside. He knows there’s no saving a few of them, and he’ll need to reorder more seeds to make up for it, but that’s a headache for another day.

The current source of his vexation appears to have shown some mercy, at least. Sun finds a trail of muddy footprints leading out of the trough and down the aisle. An employee glances up from their storefront desk upon seeing him and points to the right, towards the candy store, knowing exactly what he was looking for, already. For the life of him, Sun cannot understand why they — or anyone else for that matter — hasn’t thought to stop the runaway infant. Apparently, a nine month old crawling around without parental supervision is nothing to bat an eye at to anyone in the mall’s entire vicinity.

Moon is passing by Waning Lights theater when he hears a small commotion inside. On a hunch he peeks in, expecting nothing in particular, and instead sees two enormous baby hands covering the screen. That is, two very small baby hands waving in front of the projector.

He’s up the steps in a matter of seconds, mechanics racing with the adrenaline of having finally caught the little devil, only — of course — the little hands have already disappeared, and the seat is empty, leaving only a confused employee where he once was. “You’re joking…” Moon whispers, exhausted. An already irritated customer shushes him from somewhere downstage. Distantly, he hears the telltale sound of infant babbling and begrudgingly follows it out of the theater again.

He bursts through the door and right into Sun, colliding with a loud clatter of metal and recoiling, each holding their heads respectively and groaning in perfect unison.

“Did you find him?” Sun asks around a wince.

“Technically yes, but–”

“He got away from you too?”

Moon nods. “What is it with this kid?”

“I don’t know, but we need to figure out a different plan soon. We’re already over our ten minutes.” He looks around once more for good measure, knowing the child couldn’t have gone too far, already, if they had both just spotted him a moment ago.

That’s when he sees it. Little George, nine months old, walking down the balcony aisle. Rather, the little tike is running like he’s off to the races.

“Well, that explains why he’s been able to get everywhere so fast,” says Moon, following Sun’s gaze. “I thought you said he was only starting to crawl?”

“He’s, um, a fast learner?” Sun answers sheepishly. He watches George go for all of one long, lovestruck moment — feeling like a proud parent himself — before the swell of pride in his chest shatters to make way for circuit frying terror.

See, little George has shown himself to be quite the impressive little acrobat. He can walk, he can run, he can climb, and at that very moment he is making quick work of closing the distance between himself and a stack of boxes pressed up against the balcony railing.

The only thing awaiting him on the other side is a long, long fall.

Sun darts forward without a word, but Moon is faster, weaving through the crowd with a nimble speed that he cannot compete with. “We aren’t going to make it,” Sun gasps, announcing it to himself, mostly, as horror grips him throughout. Even if they reach the railing on time, George is already at the top of the stack, raising himself onto unsteady feet and peering out into the great beyond. He’ll be over the edge before they can stop him, and they won’t make it to the first floor on time to catch him there.

But then Sun hears it; the whir of a wire, quick and sturdy as it races through its ceiling track to Moon’s beck and call. He watches its metal hook begin to lower from a few paces away, just as the infant topples up and over, and his body seizes with fear as Moon leaps over the railing after him.

He hears a click, the wire latching out of sight, going taut. Sun holds his breath until the sound of giggling follows. Peering warily over the railing, hands shaking, he sees Moon dangling halfway to the floor. Little George bounces in his arms, clapping and cheering and laughing away like this is all just another game.

Moon lowers himself the remaining distance to the floor as Sun scrambles down the elevator to meet him. He looks rightfully shaken, his faceplate screen blank of even stars, but his grip remains persistent. He’s not going to risk putting the kid down for a moment, even if he feels like he’s going to bluescreen any second now. Their landing is celebrated with the undeniable sound of George taking the world’s largest shit, and though Moon wants to be angry, all he manages to come up with in response is “Me too, kid.”

A voice calls over their internal radios right as Sun’s feet hit the floor.

“Can someone ring the mascots?” Asks the employee, “I’m stationed at Shutterbug with a customer and she says they have her baby…?”

“I’m on my way!” Sun answers the radio aloud. He takes the baby from Moon, who extends George to him from a distance, grateful — now more than ever — for their ability to turn off their nose receptors.

“What about the footie?” Moon gestures to the dirt-soaked clothes once his hands are free. “I don’t think she’s going to be happy if he’s brought back all dirty – or naked. That might be worse.”

On a whim, Sun turns George over to check the footie’s tag. Relief floods his system when he reads the name. “We carry this brand – I’ll bet anything that we have this exact footie somewhere in the store. Can you go find it?” He makes a face and turns his own nose receptors off a moment after. “Maybe a pack of diapers, too,” he laughs. “Oh! Can you also pick up a rabbit from Fluff-&-Stuff?”

“What about you?”

“I’m headed to the bathrooms so I can clean the little guy up.” He holds George up, then, wielding him like a stinky little weapon. “Unless you want to try changing a diaper?”

“Navy blue footie with a white pocket, got it,” answers Moon, already turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

-

Ten minutes later, Sun exits the bathroom feeling like a brand new person. A scarred, mortified person, but new all the same. Who knew baby poop could be so traumatizing?

Moon had returned a moment before, toting with him the items that Sun had requested, and together they figured out how to dress the freshly cleaned child in a new diaper. Whoever said it wasn’t rocket science was right. It was somehow worse. Still, they persevered, and at the end of it all they had a clean, happy, freshly diapered baby to show for their efforts. Now it was just a matter of delivering him back to his mother.

“Why did you want the rabbit?” Moon asks as he trades over the stuffed animal, happy to hold little George now that the little tike isn’t a stink grenade.

“You’ll see,” answers Sun, refusing to elaborate. He rounds the corner with Moon following at his heel and steps into Shutterbug, greeting the mother with his best customer-pleasing smile. “So sorry for the wait, ma’am. George here had a bit of an accident on our way back.”

The woman tuts guilty, but is happy to see them all the same. “Oh, goodness, how embarrassing. I can pay for the diapers you used.”

“Nonsense!” He tells her with a casual wave of his hand, “We’re happy to lend a hand, and it’s not like the little guy could help himself.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” she smiles. “And he behaved for you, otherwise?”

Sun glances over his shoulder at Moon, and the two share a look.

Nodding, Moon steps forward and hands the child over when his mother extends her arms for him. “He was an angel,” Moon tells her.

They had both already agreed to keep their mouths shut on the entire ordeal, including and up to George’s newfound capabilities. Aside from how much trouble they would both find themselves in if anyone ever found out about the chase this single child had put them through, it simply wasn’t their place to mention it. Sun, especially, didn’t want to take away that special moment when his mother rightfully deserved to have it to herself.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she sighs with relief. “Thank you again for watching her. You two are a real blessing, you know that? I wouldn’t have been able to get all my ducks in a row without your help.”

“Anytime!” Sun answers. He spots a plaid dress hiding behind her, and lowers himself into a crouch. “Hello, again,” he calls to the little girl using his kindest voice, and extends the stuffed rabbit for her to take. “I noticed you had some bunnies on your dress, so I thought you might like this.”

Behind him, Moon relaxes into a fond smile.

“That’s very kind of you,” says her mother, who nudges her forward gently. “Go on, it’s okay,” she reassures her. “It’s a gift.”

The child hesitant, but eventually she peeks out from behind her mother just enough to take the offered rabbit, which she tucks against her chest in a great, big hug. “Th…Thank you,” she whispers. Then, feeling brave, she rewards him with a gap-toothed smile.

Moon clears his voice-box. “Well, we should let you get to it,” he says, full-well knowing that Sun would stay here cooing at the children all day if he let him.

And Sun, for what it’s worth, knows exactly what the vocal nudge means, and detaches himself from the family with a wave and some merry goodbyes before the two of them depart together.

“That was sweet of you,” Moon comments once they’re out of earshot. “You aren’t hoping for kids of our own, are you? I don’t think I’m ready for that level of commitment.” He elbows Sun with a smile, getting a hearty laugh out of him.

“Moon, I’ll be honest. I will be the happiest bot in the world if I never have to change another diaper again.” This time it’s Moon’s turn to laugh, and he laughs until his vocals strain with effort. “But, you know, it wasn’t too bad. Taking care of a baby, I mean. I think we make a pretty good team – and decent parents.”

“I’m the better parent,” Moon says around a wide grin. “You’re too much of a stick in the mud.”

“And you’re too spoiling!” Sun laughs, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you giving out candy to the kids that sneak off without their parents.”

“I’m teaching a valuable lesson,” Moon insists, hand flying over his heart like he’s offended by the notion. “If parents want to leave their children unattended, they have to face the consequences. It won’t be me dealing with the inevitable sugar rush.”

A gasp in the distance interrupts their playful bickering. They turn halfway, back towards Shutterbug. 

“Did you see that?” Chirps the mother, loud and clear. Her giddy voice followed immediately by the shutter of a camera. “Look – look! He’s walking!”

Again, the two share a look. Surprise becomes amusement becomes pride, then joy, and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[flyingwargle]

miya twins week day 2: "why does it feel like we’re drifting apart?”

granny used to say that twin telepathy was a gift from the gods as a way to reaffirm their bond. it can be used for anything between the mundane to the serious, from asking each other answers on their tests, soothing nightmares, echoing sentiments. it can work across long distances, although they never tried it, or close proximities. the only time it fails is when the bond starts to weaken.

or so osamu thinks.

it starts in their second year of high school, from their argument about their diverging paths. “if yer so damn sure that ya’ll be the happier one,” he snarls, gripping his brother’s collar, “come back when we’re geezers! wait ‘till then ta laugh in my face an’ say ya were happier!”

atsumu stares at him, anger in his eyes. “if that’s what ya wanna do, yer on.” he shoots to his feet, gripping his shoulders tight. “i’m gonna turn an’ look right in yer face, an’ say i had the happier life!”

they never recovered after that. after graduation, osamu went to university in tokyo; atsumu was scouted by the jackals in osaka. he sent a ticket to his debut match, but osamu had an exam and couldn’t attend. osamu sent an invite to his graduation, but atsumu was overseas. atsumu sent a ticket to a game between the jackals and ejp, but osamu was busy preparing for his restaurant’s grand opening. when the doors opened for the first time, he saved a spot for atsumu, but he never made it.

he doesn’t notice when the telepathy stopped. he doesn’t notice when the messages between him and his brother gradually stop. so, when he hears his name echo in the back of his mind during the busiest hour of the day, he doesn’t question it and simply responds back.

‘samu.

it’s faint. osamu, in the middle of preparing rice, slows. ‘tsumu. he’s the only one in the kitchen, the rest of his staff busy with front of house. his eyes dart around the industrial equipment, the window cracked open, the fans whirring.

oh. a weak chuckle. it still works, huh?

whaddaya mean? osamu frowns.

he doesn’t get an immediate response. when he does, it’s fainter. onigiri miya, huh? it’s a nice name.

osamu was never the best at listening for emotions, but it’s different with telepathy. it’s just them, stripped of their external bodies, left with their inner mind’s voice. atsumu’s is mournful. regretful. apologetic.

‘tsumu, what’s wrong?

it’s that chuckle again, the self-conscious one that starts at the back of his throat, accompanied by a sheepish smile. osamu can imagine it, hear it echo from their childhood, adolescence, to now. sorry that i never came fer the grand openin’. it woulda been cool. i saw the pictures. business is boomin’, huh?

cut the shit, ‘tsumu. osamu has stopped, hands braced on the counter. why’re ya talkin’ ta me? we haven’t talked in years. they don’t follow each other on social media. they haven’t texted since high school. they haven’t called even longer. why, when you have telepathy?

telepathy. used for anything from the mundane to the serious. osamu’s blood runs cold. ‘tsumu, tell me where ya are, right now.

there’s no way ya can make it ta osaka.

watch. osamu is storming out of the kitchen and into his office, ripping his apron off, throwing his hat on top of his laptop. where are ya?

pause. i didn’t believe granny when she said twins could talk ta each other with their minds, thought it was some folktale. but when i heard ya cryin’ fer me after those bullies hit ya, i believed it. we promised each other that we’d be there, right? i completely forgot, an’ i gave ya so much shit fer wantin’ ta follow yer dreams. i’m sorry.

don’t do this ta me, ‘tsumu. osamu is checking shinkansen departures. i’m bookin’ a ticket, i’ll be there soon, don’t ya dare go dark–

i wish i coulda visited once.

he freezes. a chill runs down his spine, feels something in his mind suddenly sink into the darkness. ‘tsumu? ‘tsumu, answer me. ‘tsumu! his phone falls from his hand, vision blurring. ‘tsumu, don’t do this ta me. don’t leave me. ‘tsumu?

don’t leave before i can say sorry.

--

he learns, later that night, that atsumu was in a hit-and-run. a cyclist witnessed it and called for an ambulance. he was barely conscious by the time it arrived, drifted off before reaching the hospital. the surgery went through the night. the doctors aren't sure when he'd wake.

osamu takes the first shinkansen to osaka. when he reaches the hospital, he crashes into his ma’s waiting arms, sobbing into her shoulder. “i’m sorry,” he sobs. “he- ‘tsumu, we talked, but he didn’t- he-“

she shushes him. “baby, it’s okay. yer here, an’ that’s all that matters. shall we see him?”

atsumu’s head is wrapped in bandages, with plenty more around his limbs, hidden beneath his blanket. an iv is inserted in his vein, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. his expression is gaunt, but his heartbeat is steady. osamu reaches for his hand, the uninjured one, and grasps it between his. “how did we drift so far apart?” he whispers.

ma sits beside him. “he never stopped talkin’ ‘bout ya, whenever he visited. he was even talkin’ ‘bout makin’ a trip ta tokyo ta surprise ya, but…” her breath catches in her throat. “i’m sure he’d love ta have yer food.”

“he can have all the onigiri he wants,” osamu croaks. “every last bit o’ it.”

they stay, take turns stretching their legs, taking calls from friends and family, eating out of the vending machine in the main lobby. the black jackals visit, along with old friends from inarizaki. when night falls, his ma leaves to sleep at the hotel, but osamu stays. he doesn’t let go of atsumu’s hand, not even as he drifts off.

‘samu?

he startles awake, but he doesn't have the strength to open his eyes. ‘tsumu. listen, i’m so sorry–

i’m sorry that i made ya come all the way here. i woulda liked ta show ya the sights, sneak ya into the gym, make ya hit my tosses.

ya idiot. ya can still do all that. yer gonna be fine. i know ya will. osamu squeezes his hand. an’ yer gonna come ta tokyo, an’ we’ll do all the tourist shit ya like. yer gonna eat at my restaurant an’ sleep on my couch, an’ complain ‘bout yer back the next mornin’, an’ we’re gonna do it all again–

a faint laugh. not that self-conscious chuckle, but the quiet, exasperated yet amused laugh that comes when he doesn’t want to acknowledge his brother, yet still does. i’m still sorry ‘bout what i said back in high school.

we’re adults, now. it doesn’t matter. we’ll start again. right?

right.

osamu dares to open his eyes, and stares straight at his brother, who returns his gaze. his lips move beneath his oxygen mask, though no words come out. he hears him, loud and clear.

love ya, idiot.

love ya too, scrub.

--

inspiration: this comic of twin telepathy!

[cascade05]

Book Girl

Heads up: Language, suggestive but definitely not descriptive, also Bakugo Katsuki (he comes with a warning), and unedited—super unedited

Kay, so, hear me out… Bakugo Katsuki and an author reader. Yes, ooh, ahh, I know I know. For those of you, and I am sure there are many, who have no idea what I mean, lemme explain:

Bakugo with a reader who asks him the strangest, borderline worrisome question about his work. “What’s it feel like to get stabbed?” “Have you ever gotten shot? With a gun? Explain it to me. How did it feel?” Sometimes he thinks you’re a little psycho but it’s oddly therapeutic for him to explain the worst parts of his job and not care about being judged so he don’t mind none.

Bakugo with a reader who patches up his wounds like a pro and mumble “this would be perfect in chapter twelve.” And he’s just staring at her like “ma’m I’m dying plz don’t immortalize this in literature.”

Most importantly (the thought that had me on this tangent), Bakugo Katsuki with his cute little writer baby who tests things on him. It’s never easy to deal with things either. It’s not, like, fighting related things. You don’t go up to him and ask him if you could put him in arm-bar or ask him if he could put you in an arm-bar (Actually you did ask him to do that cause you wanted to know how to get out of one but—)

She does this… thing where she goes up to him and whispers the nastiest shit in his ear, like, you know, innocent book girl shit. Ya’ll know what I mean. Book girls are fucking wild and they read the sauciest shit. So she whispers some knee numbing curse and Bakugo freezes like a little schoolboy who just found out what puberty hormones are and she has the audacity to take a step back, examine him like he’s a fucking lab rat or some shit, then ask him if that made his heart flutter. Like, bitch it made something flutter, the hell did you think saying that would do? Does he answer? The first few times it happened, he couldn’t. The next few times he tried to deny it but mumbled and slurred his words like a drunk. When he wasn’t caught horribly off guard, he started just throwing her over his shoulder and showing her what it did to him. (It really helped her with that one scene—)

But that’s not the worst of it. No. No no no. You see, before Bakugo, she had never been in a relationship before. She had never been in love before and she most certainly had never done anything physical with someone else before. He was her first everything. So she has trouble writing particularly steamy scenes, at least when it comes to describing everything and it has to be perfect. Well, that’s what a boyfriend’s for, right?

So, there are times in Bakugo’s life where his writer girlfriend just decides to make out with him. That’s a normal thing to do, they’re together, but she doesn’t just kiss him. Remember, book girl shit, girl goes fucking—well, Bakugo doesn’t know what but it’s ridiculous.

Kay, first time it happens: She comes up to him all casually and cute-like and asks if she can try something. Blissfully unaware Bakugo raises a brow but lets her and she takes his breath away with a kiss that’s all passion and it’s hot—he’s hot. He’s melting, actually, and she takes it further and put her hands in exactly the right places and just when he’s getting ready to go all the way with it, she pulls back. Bakugo’s never felt whiplash quite so jarring but there she was asking him how it felt because she wants to write the scene from a man’s perspective. She asking him all these questions and bro’s on a different planet right now, he can’t answer, kay. Like, give him a second to breathe cause he can’t find the air, ya know. And it happens, well not all the time but enough for the poor man to think she just isn’t in to him like he’s in to her. If she was, she would’ve been frustrated too, right? But she wasn’t and there he was, sitting alone like a fool while she ran off to go write it all down before she forgot.

But, well, book girls, right? Those freaky shits know how to please a guy so you can bet your bottom dollar that she made it up to him. Thoroughly :)

Or, alternatively, writer gf who doesn’t write steamy shit and just does all of this to fuck with him cause his reactions are *chief’s kiss*

[enjoythesilentworld]

I can’t believe I almost missed the chance to ask you to write smth. That’s what I get for having a busy tumblr dash. Anyway. “Join me” as a prompt pls? 💜

hello my darling Lia. you know i'd write anything you asked me to. for today, here's a (not) little ficlet in which Simon neglects to read the fine print and somehow it actually turns out really well for him.

💜enjoy xx

Alone in a foreign country, Simon must find a stranger to join him on the romantic couples food tour he’s accidentally booked. (a 2.3k strangers to lovers, fake dating, speed-run of an AU) if you see this again for day 2 of simon's month dont worry bout it

Simon curses under his breath as the confirmation email comes in.

So, he’d booked the food tour a little quickly, possibly without reading all the fine print. He can’t even blame a language barrier because he’s in Spain and, thanks to his mamá, his Spanish is really better than his English.

The solo-travel thing had been a bit of a last-minute decision. Spurred by the post university graduation crisis of, ‘Oh Fuck What Am I Doing With My Life?’ whichled twenty-somethings around the globe to grab a backpack and buy a one-way plane ticket. Simon’s decision was also encouraged by the fact that he’d woken up one day and realized he was in a toxic relationship, quickly packing his bags and saying Hejdå to a two-year relationship. He’s only about three weeks into the whole self-discovery shtick, but it seems to be going well so far. He enjoys the independence of it all. Not that he’s not independent at home — in fact, he’s been a little bit too much of an adult since he was 10 — but more so that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else. Simon goes to museums when he wants to, stays for as little or as much time as he wants. He eats when he wants, goes to shows he likes, and doesn’t spend every second of every day worrying about everyone else. (Of course, he’s called his mama and sister nearly every day since he left, but he’s working on it.) He also, apparently, incorrectly books guided food tours that are actually romantic couples excursions. 

Glancing around the nearly empty breakfast room at his hostel, he chews on his options. One is to show up to this tour alone and look like a dumb tourist. Two is to find someone willing to go on it with him.

There’s a pair of British girls in the corner, giggling over their plates of breakfast. Simon recognizes them from the stand-up comedy show the hostel had organized the night before; they’d been attached at the hip the whole night. Slim chance of separating them. Crowding around the cereal bar is a group of American guys who all look like fraternity brothers. If Simon remembers correctly, he’d overheard some vile words from them in the bar last night, and so he’s is not too keen on participating in any sort of tour with any of them, romantic or not.

The only other person in the room is sitting a few seats down at the communal table: a very good-looking man with light auburn hair and high cheek bones. His long fingers, nails painted a deep purple, hold up a book with one hand and gingerly lift a coffee cup to his lips with the other. He’s dressed quite casually, in an un-done button up over a tank-top and baggy trousers, but somehow makes it look refined. Simon noticed him yesterday afternoon in the hostel café, noticed the way the man’s eyes tracked Simon from across the room.

His pretty brown eyes are no longer locked on the pages of the book, but have found Simon again and caught him staring. Simon forces himself to hold his ground and smiles, glancing down at the book title. It’s by a Swedish author, he realizes, and a gay Swedish author at that.

Gesturing with his head, Simon asks, “Is it good?”

The pretty man places his coffee cup down clumsily. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I’ve read it a million times,” he says, closing the book. “I’m Wille.” 

The light blush on his cheeks is endearing.

“Simon.”

Wille smiles softly and nods, “Trevligt.”

He’s polite and looks suspiciously rich to be in this hostel, but his eyes are kind and has a rainbow pin on his tote bag so, before Wille can say anything else, Simon slides one chair closer.

“Are you doing anything today, Wille?”

Wille moves to the chair across from Simon. “Nope.”

Simon props his head on both his hands and gazes at this beautiful stranger, wondering why he didn’t speak to him the day before. “Would you like to join me on a romantic food tour around Barcelona?”

Wille quirks an eyebrow, then mirrors Simon’s position. “I would love to.”

The tour doesn’t begin for a few hours, so they sit and chat while the breakfast room fills up around them. Wille laughs when Simon explains how he’s gotten himself into this situation, and the sound sets little sparks bursting in Simon’s chest. What luck he’s had this morning.

Simon learns that Wille is also at the beginning of a self-discovery trip, running away from a family legacy and a desk job he desperately did not want. He also learns that Wille is incredibly funny and quite flirty, though whenever Simon starts flirting back he becomes incredibly flustered. His stare, though, is the thing that gets Simon the most. Wille looks at him so intently, gaze flitting between Simon’s eyes and his mouth, listening to every word and seemingly staring directly into Simon’s soul. It would be troubling if he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful.

The conversation flows so easily between them that Simon, so wrapped up in Wille’s laugh and crooked teeth, almost forgets they have somewhere to be.

They walk quickly through the streets of Barcelona together, heading towards the café at which they’re meant to meet the rest of their tour group. Wille’s fingers brush against Simon’s a few times, though his voice never falters, so Simon isn’t sure if it’s just him that feels the jolt of electricity each time.

“You said this is a romantic food tour?” Wille asks, reaching out to pull Simon out of the way of a passing cart.

The city is bustling with life around them, the sun shining hot between the buildings, people hanging off balconies, chatting with neighbors or stringing up laundry to dry. It’s absolutely beautiful, and somehow it seems a bit more colorful than it had the day before.

“Yes.”

“Is it going to be obvious that you and I just met?” he says, letting Simon go ahead of him to squeeze through the crowd, staying close, with a hand hovering over Simon’s lower back.

“Well,” Simon muses, “we could make it a bit of a game. If you’re down.”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Wille’s eyes light up with mischief. “I’m down. What kind of game?”

Simon chuckles and shrugs, checking his phone to make sure they’re still headed in the right direction. “We could pretend to be a couple. You know, really put on a show.”

“That sounds very, very fun, Simon.”

For the last ten or so minutes of their walk, they establish some basic rules. They’ll hold hands and gaze lovingly in each other’s eyes and ramble to anyone who asks about their beautiful love story. The goal is to one-up every other couple there by acting sickeningly in love. By the time they make it to the café, only a few minutes late, they’re holding onto each other and cackling at the increasingly ridiculous ‘meet-cute’ ideas they’ve come up with.

There are three other couples in the tour: one looks like a very young newly-wed couple, another is a pair of middle-aged ladies, and the third is a pretentious-looking, older couple who already look fed up with everyone else. As the tour-guide starts on their spiel, Wille wraps a tender arm around Simon, pulling him close and whispering jokes into his ear, somehow making them look more like a couple than even the newly-weds.

They sit down to start, and Wille lets Simon order for them off the selected menu. They feed each other bites of tomato toast and gently wipe crumbs from each other’s cheeks, all the while giggling to each other and only half-listening to the explanations of the food. It also seems they’ve unintentionally started a competition with the other young couple of who-can-look-more-in-love. When Wille hands Simon a napkin before he can even ask to wipe up his splashed juice, the man of the other couple tries to lovingly whisper something in his wife’s ear but gets brushed off as she’s too busy listening intently to the tour guide. When Simon holds out a forkful of potato omelette for Wille, the man tries to do the same, but his wife shakes her head, smiling, and fondly pats his cheek then turns back to her own plate.

As they move through the next few stops — a restaurant, a food cart, and an open-air market — he and Wille fall even further into their ‘game’. There’s plenty of very intentional touches and exchanged loving glances, but Wille also asks Simon about himself. About his family and his dreams and where he’s going next. Simon learns even more about Wille’s obsession with frogs and his love for lakes and his passion for writing. The rest of the tour group fades away, and things between them start to feel a little less like a game and a little more real. The prolonged eye contact becomes less playful and more loaded. The lingering touches become less out of competition and more out of some deep urge. Simon’s eyes flick more often down to Wille’s lips, watching him lick cream off his fingers or clean gazpacho off his spoon.

Maybe it’s the wine, but as they head to their last stop of the day, hand in hand, trailing behind the group, Simon finds himself hoping Wille isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He’d made a few friends over the past few weeks, but it always seemed to work out that when he was having a great time, the person would be leaving the very next day, heading off to some new country or heading back home.

Wille grins over at him and points out a pretty sculpture, mumbling something smart about the artist and looking absolutely ethereal in the light of the early evening with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Maybe it isn’t just the wine.

Their final destination is small tapas place on the beach. Simon and Wille have given up any pretense of listening to the tour guide or of playing their little game. Instead, they sit close at their table and chat about their favorite memories growing up and tell embarrassing stories. Simon, as he’s done at every place, translates every bit of Spanish on the menu and giggles helplessly as he corrects Wille’s pronunciation. They share a plate of pulpo and split a liter of sangria and it’s one of the most perfect days Simon’s ever experienced.

“I’m really glad I misread that website,” Simon says, fiddling with his fingers. When he glances up, he finds Wille grinning at him. He takes Simon’s hand.

“Me too.”

After the tour concludes and their guide bids they all farewell, their group mostly scatters. But, Wille and Simon stay at their table, finishing off their pitcher and becoming increasingly rowdy with their jokes. After a few annoyed looks from their waiter, they collect their things and stumble down to the beach. Simon jumps onto Wille’s back, laughing loudly and savoring the feeling of Wille’s strong hands wrapped securely around his legs. Wille wades out into the shallow water of the beach, and Simon yelps when he pretends to nearly drop them both into the cool water.

Eventually, Wille lets him down but takes his hand instead, and they walk down the sand, talking about the food tour and realizing that they maybe didn’t pay attention at all.

There’s a warm buzz in Simon’s body, making him giddy and calm all at once. When they make it to a small concrete pier, Wille pulls him out to the edge of it and they stand, arms wrapped around each other, staring out at the Mediterranean.

Simon sigh happily. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah. Very,” Wille says breathlessly, and Simon looks up to see Wille staring down at him. He smacks Wille’s chest playfully.

“You’re an idiot, Wille.”

Wille laughs, “I’m being serious!”

“Sure,” Simon hums, turning back to the water, biting back a smile.

“Hey.” He turns back again and Wille’s face has sobered, and he’s now gazing down at Simon with that same intense stare. “You are beautiful, Simon. You’re also funny and kind and— I had a really, really great time today.”

He squirms slightly at the force of the words, the conviction in Wille’s tone, but can’t help but let his eyes flicker down to Wille’s lips. He’s so close and looks so pretty in the cool lighting of the twilight evening and Simon’s never thought it could be possible to fall for someone like this, this hard, in one day.

“Me, too,” Simon whispers. Then, “Wille?”

“Yes?”

“Can I—”

Wille nods, gasping, “Yes,” before Simon can even finish his sentence and then they’re both rushing forward.

Finally, after thinking about it nearly all day, Wille’s lips connect with his. He tastes like fruity wine and olives and something so Wille, and Simon melts into his arms, coming up onto his tiptoes to press further into him. Wille’s hair is soft under his fingertips and though they’ve basically been touching all day, this is different and overwhelming and everything.

When they break apart, giggling into each other, the lights have come on along the paved pathway by the beach.

“Maybe we should head back?” Wille suggests, looking just as much like he doesn’t want to head back as Simon feels. But, it’s getting late and he’s also starting to feel tired from all the wine and walking, so Simon nods and takes Wille’s hand again.

They trail slowly back through the streets, pausing occasionally to exchange a quick kiss, or to slip into an alcove and exchange a slightly longer one. By the time they make it back to their building, Simon’s limbs feel syrupy with sleep and his chest feels warm with the events of the day.

Two steps up the stairs to the front door of the hostel, Simon stops and turns.

“Where will you be tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at Wille.

Wille smiles. “Wherever you are.”

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Caught

As promised! The next drabble in the series :D (or the next one made in between the series? You guys get it. also thanks @spotaus for the original post which gave me the idea/inspiration to start this whole thing)

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Okay the links should all work now and go to the right places.

Usual warning, unedited and unbeta'ed. We are just here to enjoy our time :D

----------

Cross groans as he leans against a wall and resists the urge to bonk his own skull against it "How can we not have foudn him!?" It has been three weeks of them searching at this point! Which means that Nightmare had been out and about for a month now!

Killer leans against the wall next to him "Chin up Cross. We don't want to make a scene and make people realise something is up."

Cross sighs but pulls away from the wall and pulls himself together. Killer is right, a sentence Cross does not use often, and they need to keep a low profile if they want to find Nightmare wihtout anyone realising it.

Dust joins their side and shakes his skull. Okay. Good news and bad news in one go. Good news, no one seems to have heard or seen anything about Nightmare. Bad news, no one has heard or seen anything about him!

Cross sighs and looks at Dust "Horror?"

Dust shrugs. he must see the unimpressed look on Cross face as Dust seems to think a moment longer "Horror is making a second round. No traces of him foudn just yet. but he wants to be sure."

Cross nods. Horror is by far the best tracker out of the four of them and if Horror can't find anything none of them will.

Killer nods as he pulls out his phone "Okay. this universe was also a burst. We don't need anything right?"

Cross shakes his skull "We got our supplies." which is nice about staying on the move, you can travel very light.

Killer nods as he considers the list he made "Okay. We are still searching for that universe. but we are near a split again. We can either go for the sciency universes or the more magical ones. I think the magical ones will lead to our end goal quicker..."

Cross thinks it over. It would be nice if they get to Dreamtale quickly to make sure Nightmare isn't there. It had been a goal until now and the only reason they had been making small jumps and going from universe to universe is because they wanted to be sure Nightmare wasn't in one of those or anyone heard of what happened.

It had been Horror who had offered that they should check everything. After his own accident and his own magic being difficult he had lost some of his more natural abilities. If Nightmare lost his own magical powers he may also lose his ability to travel through the mulitverse. meaning he could get stranded somewhere.

So they were making tiny jumps to neighbouring universes for now. and checking each one that they stopped it. The job they had with Nightmare is actually very helpful for this and trained them as at this point they are able to search about three universes a day.

They know how each universe is suposed to feel and are able to spot key differences or elements that don't belong thanks to all the exposure they have had. Meaning they should in theory be able to spot Nightmare as soon as they see him. or the traces of him.

Cross is still worried. They all already agreed Nightmare would most likely go back to the way he was before. the tiny skeleton from the storybook. But the image of the babybones with his skull smashed open keeps haunting cross. What if that wound returns as well? Would that mean that Ngihtmare is just somewhere heavily injuried with no help? could that have meant that nightmare just... died?

When Cross first asked Killer about it he had just huffed. said that boss is tougher than they can even imagine. and that if he had already died that Killer doubts the castle or the universe it had been in would have still been as stable as it had been when they visited.

Which, Cross knows Killer is right. Cross had seen what happens to a universe that grows too instable and gets destroyed. He had lived in it.

Still. the worry remains and-

"Nothing." Horror joins them again "where too next?"

Killer looks over at Horror "We are at another branch. Science or magic."

Horror frowns as Dust finally speaks again "Both can be promising or worrying. Both have ways of knowing about the multiverse and them..."

Horror nods "Meaning, which way do we think Nightmare would pick if he had to make small jumps. and which could he get stuck in if a large jump misfired?"

Killer frowns as he looks back at his phone and the copy of the general multiverse map he made. Cross looks over his shoulder and frowns with him. Cross can see what makes Killer hesitant to pick either. both paths look promising.

Dust tilts his skull "Which universes are in both paths? And which is saver for a babybones."

Cross turns to Dust and knows so are Killer and Horror.

Dust rolls his eye lights "We know who he is. He knows that. The multiverse at large? Does not. their story isnt known. either way. If nightmare remembers everything and he is going where we think he is going. He will pick the path off least resistence as he knows he is..." a glance around before softer "fragile. if he does not remember. He will take the path of least resistence because trauma and past injuries. So. Which is safer for a babybones?"

Killer blinks before looking back at his list and removing universes. Most Fell universes go straight out. so fo the Mafia stuff. Blaster AUs are next to go. any Genocide endings are out as well and Killer reconsiders the map.

Killer frowns "There is no clear path anymore. a lot of zigzagging. But! I think i see a path which could be seen as safe." he snorts and wiggles his eyebrows, how he does it Cross never figured out, "We can go by a Lustverse."

Dust looks wholly unimpressed and Horror looks disapproving "Focus. Adn are you sure?"

Killer snorts but nods "Yeah. Lustverse is originally build on having a children wish and that not working correctly or something. I don't remember they details but if they see a child they will 100% protect him." he nods and looks at Cross "Knife ready?"

Cross nods as he pulls out his knife "Where to?"

Killer joins his side "We are going to a pacifist upper tale thing. just aim east and slice and it should connect." Cross does as told and the portal fuzzes for a bit before a clear rift opens. On the other side green grass and sunshine.

Cross waits until the other three entered before looking around them quickly. No one near. good. and he goes in.

-----

Nightmare is not a fan of this.

The market is too open and there are too many people.

Good side about it is though... a lot of them will give you free samples and food if you are a kid.

Nightmare walks around another stand and stops by one with all kinds of fruit. it is a lot harder to look over the edge and see all of it but he makes it work. He still hasn't eaten today and really should.

He can't quite remember how much food he needs and when. For now he just gets food whenever he gets really hungry. Just a tiny snack to keep him going. He had been having meals every day or other day. that is good right?

Sure he feels hungry a lot but that is probably normal. If he ate each time he got hungry he would be eating throughout the day and that just seems like a lot.

Nightmare considers the food and how much gold he still has. He had been lucky so far and hadn't been moving to a new universe yet. He had eben here for three days now instead of his normal two.

"Oh hello again friend!"

Nightmare flinches and has to stop himself from ducking away. He looks up and sees the man behind the stall smiling. "... hello..."

The man grins "Good to see you back again little friend. we had been worried when no one spotted you. Would you like to help me test some of the fruits? I can only sell the best stuff of course!"

Nightmare... knows he is just trying to ease him into accepting it. even though he knows it... it works. his soul swells a bit at the idea of helping and being seen as helpful. Nightmare isn't sure why. Ever since he finished shrinking it has become hard to understand himself.

He looks to the side but nods "okay..."

the man nods and considers the fruit "well. I personally think the grapes may be a bit off." he grabs a cluster of grapes and holds it out.

Nightmare holds his own hands under it and the man releases the grapes, never touching him. which is probably because Nightmare can't stop flinching and backing away when people raise their hands or voices.

Nightmare picks one off and eats it. it tastes so good! Sweet and refreshing. nightmare takes his time to eat the tiny treat before looking back at him "It is good." he holds the grapes back out to give back.

The man nods as he taps his chin "that is good to hear. you mind finishing those all and come back if any of them tasted off? We need a good sample size of the tastetesting." he says it as he calmly places a box full of grape clusters ready for sale.

Ngihtmare immediantly pulls the grape close again and nods "Sure..." he doesn't promise it. He isn't an idiot to make promises to strangers. but this man has never been difficult about him having to pay much more than a taste test. Nightmare figures it is something else pity he just pities him but Nightmare just.. can't focus as easily on those things anymore. it is harder too focus on certain stuff and if he tries to force himself to focus or think certain ways it just causes his skull to ache.

So he tries to stay in the now and reacts and thinks only to what happens or are direct threats.

He walks through the market as he eats his grapes. one by one. enjoying each one.

Nightmare is very disappointed when the cluster is all gone and takes a moment to find a trashcan to throw it away. some woman coo and mutter about such a good mannered child and Nightmare feels himself blush and feels the need to hide. it isn't that big of a deal! H just threw soemthing away! be good for nature and stuff and don't throw it just on the ground!

Nightmare quickly leaves the area and starts to make his way back to where he left his stuff. He needs to relax. maybe he can read his book for a moment and nap.

He walks between people and makes sure to not touch anyone. letting his eye lights look around the crowd.

Then he freezes.

Was that white?

probably not right?

Nightmare still strains his eye lights to search the area he saw it. Then he spots him.

And Nightmare cna see that Cross spotted him at exactly the same time.

Neither of them look away from each other for a moment. Nightmare feels his soul pick up the pace as the need to run rises by the second. It is fine. It is fine! Cross... cross probably doesn't even realise he was here! It is just a coincidence.

Cross turns his skull a tiny bit but his eye lights don't break eye contact. Cross is saying something to someone and Nightmare breaks the eye contact to glace.

That is Killer.

Ngihtmare doesn't think as he turns and runs right into the crowd.

"Wait!"

Yup! That is Cross! Nightmar keeps running.

He goes between people and dives under stalls as he uses the crowd for cover. he makes a turn and glances back only to see Cross a lot closer.

Shit.

He makes another sharp turn and spots an possible escape. He rushes into an alleyway and dives behind a dumpster and stays very quiet.

it only takes a few seconds before he hears running steps. he sees a flash of white between the opening of the dumpster and the wall.

the footsteps don't pause and Cross keeps running.

It takes a while but eventually it goes quiet again.

Nightmare waits for a while longer before wiggling his way out of the enclosed space. he checks the area as he jumps out and goes back into the market. He pulls the hood of the hoody back on and puts his hands into his pockets.

He can't hide the skeleton feet as he isn't wearing socks or shoes but this will have to do for now.

He is such an idiot! He should have kept moving instead of staying in the same universe for so long! Nightmare nods to himself. He will go to his little hidey place. grab his things. and make a jump.

He cuts through the market and finds the building with the empty storage he had taken over. he climbs in through the window and huffs as he lands hard in his little hidey place.

Nightmare leans against the wall and lets out a breath in relieve. okay. he is fine. he is fine. he is-

"Ah!" he gets picked up and is suddenly held back against a much larger form.

"Finally. we have been looking everywhere."

Nightmare freezes because that is Dust. Then he starts to struggle and fight more to be let go.

---------

Dust runs over the roof tops as he easily keeps up with the small form in the market. Cross on the ground not far behind.

To say they are relieved would be an understatement. They had actually found boss.

How is he so tiny? Are all six year olds that tiny? Or is he just that tiny because of... well everything?

Dust isn't sure.

When Cross had frozen they had all turned to him to see what had been wrong. He had motioned that he had found Nightmare. Only for Nightmare to start running.

Which, rude. What the hell Nightmare?

Killer had been quick to step up to the job or right hand and gave them orders. Cross would follow on foot. Dust would go over the rooftops to make sure we didn't lose him. Killer nad Horror would go around the market and go to the other end to corner him if necessary.

Dust watches Nightmare dive into an alleyway and hide. Cross follows the path but once he can't spot Nightmare he keeps running right back out. only a moment later Nightmare comes out of hiding and goes back the way he came.

Dust follows him from the rooftops. making sure to stay quiet as he does so. He does take a moment to take his phone out and text the others that he still has eyes on Nightmare and is following him.

This does imply that Nightmare doesn't remember him. Why else would he freak out at the sight of Cross? Cross of all skeletons?

But if Nightmare doesn't have his memories and only remembers Dream as fellow skeleton... maybe that could explain why he freaked out?

Or it is because all of you betrayed him and he knows you can't be trusted the voice of papyrus is not welcome at the moment.

Dust glares as he keeps following Nightmare "shut up. you don't know shit."

he laughs oh? Cursing already? You will infect your terrible manners unto the tiny babybones. unless of course you just do what you should and kill him.

Dust slowly moves to the next roof "I already told you. I am not killing him."

A huff Then what will you do?! He is useless like this! Offers nothing!

Dust hisses his own answer back "He is a child. He doesn't have to offer anything."

a laugh so now he is a child? While before he was just your weakened boss? Which is is sans?

Dust ignores the ghost as he watches Nightmare disappear into a building. Dust is quick to silently follow him. Nightmare pants as he leans against the wall under the window that Dust is perched on. Dust scans the room before anything else. It is empty and looks old. in the corner he spots a backpack that looks a lot like one of Cross's anime backpacks. it lays on a thin blanket of some kind. otherwise the room is filled with boxes and other junk.

Nightmare looks calm and Dust acts quickly as he scoops Nightmare up as he lands inside the room.

Dust lets out a breath as tension leaves his body "Finally. we have been looking everywhere." They found him. they did it.

Nightmare is frozen for a moment before he starts to wiggle and struggle "let me go!"

Oh fuck that voice is so much higher than before. also shit Ngihtmare is slippery!

Dust groans as he tries to tighten his hold on the small skeleton but he is unsure how to do this without hurting the other. he is so much tinier than he thought he would be. Not to forget most likely much much more fragile. How does he hold Nightmare like this?!

Dust tries to change his handhold but alost drops Ngihtmare "Calm down Nightmare. it is just me." maybe he just didn't recognise him? please remember him.

more laughter What now you are scared he forgot you? Like he ever mattered to you! Hah!

Dust wants to snap at the voice but stops himself. If nightmare really doesn't know who they are than talking out loud to something no one else hears is not the right way to introduce himself.

Nightmare does not stop struggling and Dust keeps having to change his hold on the other.

In the end Dust decides to just sit down under the window and roll up around the tiny babybones- Nightmare. around nightmare. He ahs to remind himself it is Nightmare.

But... nightmare is a babybones now. or was always a babybones.

... mental and moral problem for later with how he will deal with that.

At least Nightmare stopped struggling. instead jjust panting harshly in his hold. No doubt tired from first trying to escape them and then struggling to be freed.

Dust just hugs the other tighter. do not relax his hold and give the other a chance to escape.

He is so tiny! so much lighter than Dust expected him to be. Also thinner as most of his form seems to be just the hoody. Wait that is his old hoody.

Dust isn't sure how to react to this. How to react to the feeling of having this tiny babybones against and with him.

Well good job. you have captured a babybones. are you going to kill him like you killed me? remembering how i was as babyboned never stopped you from killing me after all.

Dust feels his hold tighten on Nightmare. No. he is not going to hurt nightmare. Dust can be a good... a good.. henchman. and henchman help their boss. even if their boss is now tiny and easy to hold and so so thin and feels warm against them and Dust can feel the tiny fragile soul slowly calm down as they are close enough that Dust can feel it pulse and beat in the other.

Dust sighs as he struggles to find words "That is better." he makes sure one of his arms has a tight hold on Ngihtmare before he grabs his phone. He opens the group chat and types a message 'I got him. Just have to get back to you guys. See you outside of town, south side.' and he sends it. only a moment before he gets celebratory emojis back for the news.

Dust puts the phone away and stands "Time to go." he turns to the window.

Nightmare immediantly starts to struggle "no! My stuff!"

Dust frowns down before looking back. It shouldn't matter. They can just grab stuff he wants from other universes and they did that before... then again. If anyone understands how you can unreasonably attached to objects it is Dust, he still has Papyrus' scarf after all.

Dust nods and walks over to the corner of things. He holds one arm around Nightmare, holding him against his shoulder and partly over it. as he packes the stuff laying around with his other hand.

Thin blanket, backpack just holds a book, a lighter, a pocketknife and some gold. Not a lot but if this is all NIghtmare had to make his way through the multiverse for the last month it is all the more impressive.

Dust can't help but ask "Why not take more things?" he finishes packing and puts the backpack on Ngihtmare's back before taking a tight hold on him again as he easily lifts him.

Nightmare grumbles but mutters and answer "Too heavy... travel light and find what you need."

Dust freezes. He hadn't expected an answer. but if... if Ngihtmare answered then... "Ready... to meet up with the others?"

Ngihtmare freezes and wiggles for a moment before going lax with a sigh "you four met back up?"

Dust feels his soul relax. He remembers them. He rememebrs them! Oh this makes everything so much better!

Dust grins as he checks outside the window "Of course." of course they would emet back up to find him. obviously. Now. To get to the tohers and get the hell out of here.

They are going to have to figure out how to manage this child after all.

----

They had aqcuired the child! now they just need to figure out how to be parents lmao. I am sure they will be fine :) They only lightly traumatized Nightmare here by stalking him, hunting him, intruding on his safe space, and forcefully moving him :D

They are fine you all :D

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This one was fun to write! so mcuh fun! i love getting them all to interact and do things :D

[good-beanswrites]

So... What happens to Haruka, Shidou, and Mahiru in Myosotis based on canon?

Why are you making me post angstttttt, haven’t we been through enough !!! Asdfsd but thank you for the ask, I hadn’t considered this as an option so it was really interesting to consider this new turn of events in the au 👀

Character death discussion under the cut :(

My original plan for Myosotis involved all of Milgram taking place within a single moment in normal-world-time on a Wednesday night. It definitely was real, (like, it wasn’t ambiguous whether it was a dream), so the prison executions would be the true experience for the prisoners. The last and only thing they remember is that death, at the hands of Es and the voices. They have no idea that the real world shifts around them to create a believable reason they never woke up the next morning. 

When I first came up with the theory at the very beginning of the project, I wasn’t considering anyone dying this early in the trials, so I’m shifting things around a bit to distinguish the two. That previous method now applies to the current three deaths, and the executions actually happen after the guilty character has woken up. This means the Milgram execution was more for our/Es’ experience, since the prisoners forget about it as soon as they wake. (And then die within the day in the real world.)

I wanted to stay true to the method of death, so I avoided suicide/murder for the real-world execution counterparts. It was meant to be Milgram’s inevitable punishment, existing above emotions or natural consequences, so I pictured all freak accidents that have no other effect except to kill the intended prisoner and not create any new murder investigations. However, these three prisoners did have very human and emotional deaths, so I’m debating on how much I want events to spill into the real world… I guess there could be homicides that are just so odd that it’s impossible to get any leads, and the investigation sputters out quickly.

Some ideas for canon deaths/final guilty possibilities:

Haruka: Time of death in the middle of the night, never woke up the following day. Though his family couldn’t remember him collecting any materials, it’s clearly suicide.

Yuno: Misstep causes a fall from too high a height.

Fuuta: Room caught fire – officials believe a spark from faulty computer wires caused it.

Muu: Bee sting allergy is obviously the most fitting but it also felt a little cheesy comparatively? I was also thinking drowning since the hourglass had a feel of suffocation.

Shidou: Is found in the morning, stabbed, though there was no evidence of anyone breaking into his bedroom or home.

Mahiru: Similarly, she’s found dead in her own bed without any signs of struggle, somehow beaten to death. 

Kazui: Choking on a bite of apple – somewhere public but he was unable to speak out to get help.

Amane: Faulty wiring in the house causes an electrocution accident.

Mikoto: Fell off the platform as the train was coming into the station.

Kotoko: Animal attack seems the most expected, but I also considered a heart attack or something from overwork after she pushes too hard during a workout.