#and ngl that’s encouraging

[jenna-louise-coleman]

i really loved this scene, d'arcy and abbi worked so hard to show the nuances of their characters :)

[the-darklings]

Do you plan out your stories or is it on a whimp? Or is it a mix of both?

My creative process is basically dropping 5kg of potassium into a cold lake.

It’s sudden, a bit explosive, and always messy. I always come up with endings first, then usually the beginning, and hope for the best in the middle. Some major beats I have from the beginning for foreshadowing etc (in tibyim case: the banishment, the island, but not Dreamfall) but usually a lot of it takes shape as I write it. I’m semi-decent at connecting the threads as I come with them, so that helps to keep the story flowing. It’s always about the end goal and how to get there. So it’s def a mix of things.

For example, I never had plans for Corinthian & Wanderer to be this close but it happened as I wrote it, and I feel like the story became stronger for it. Same with other elements like Dreamfall, Hob, Edward Constantine etc. it’s actually been a really lovely surprise seeing how beloved the platonic element of this story has become as I don’t see such stories being celebrated often in fandom spaces. So honestly, I was fairly worried people will switch off because they’re here for the romance which was already slow to develop.

[knowlesian]

one of the most valuable life skills is discerning the difference between “this is bad” and “this is not for me”

[sk2lton]

we have a guest speaker in math class to talk to us about coping w stress as if this class isn’t the reason i felt like shitting myself this morning😭😭

[moonsfantasyworld]

aand now she has a ref! will probs gonna have to reblog this tomorrow morning,, but oh wel!! hope you guys like it!

if anyone has any questions on any detail the ask box is open!

[nintendont2502]

What if I bought the checkmarks. For the bit

[katierosefun]

you know, it’s sometimes just a little bit discouraging to see ~5 people unsubscribe from your user on ao3 because you keep posting fic in a random that they might not have signed up for, but. my house! my rules! etc.

[littlewetbeast]

super stressed but at least i achieved a really superb gender yesterday

[cdroloisms]

put your head in a noose, ill kick the chair for you.

really ???? oh em gee i'd be honored ,,, thank you so much xoxoxo

[maskyartist]

oops im fallin back into a familiar self indulgent au hole :D about to start designin n plottin for a Haunted Aquato Circus AU in a minute if i dont reel it in

[janetbrown711]

Flower Most Needed

Isabella Madrigal wants to be perfect, but perfect doesn't equal helpful, and she struggles with a desire for both.

Usual tw for blood and yellow fever and stuff

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

.o0o.

It had been three days since Julieta’s hallucinations began. 

Isabella felt neglected, though she could hardly blame anyone. With all the chaos around Julieta, everyone’s attention was divided– even Abuela’s. Everyone was coping– or not– in different ways: Agustín was always either watching her or playing piano, Pepa was cooking and trading off with Agustín while struggling to control her winds, Abuela was reading and praying constantly, Bruno was isolated in that far off room of his, Camilo and Mirabel were constantly drawing pictures for her, Luisa was also isolating and locking her door, Dolores was often out in town to try and get away from Julieta’s muttering and hallucinations, and Isa..? Well– she was being Isa: keeping her head high, acting perfectly perfect and still making flowers for all the people who asked. 

Though the requests for roses and fleur de mayos were much less these days, as people came requesting herbs and medicines. Isa tried best she could, but she hadn’t seen many of them since she used to spend mornings with her mother in the kitchen when she was little, and such days felt like a million years ago now. 

It occurred to Isa just how little she saw her mother nowadays- hell, ever since she turned five really. It felt like she was swept away with her gift and the attention that she had left her mother behind. Which was more apparent now that her services weren’t needed as much.

It was getting hard to be perfect. 

Though she was determined to still try. 

A soft morning, birds softly singing in the distance. Isa was the first one awake for once, so a quiet casita greeted her. Ever since her mami got sick her sleep schedule had been thrown for loops, but this was truly the first time waking so early. Slowly she walked through the empty Casita and wandered to the kitchen, not knowing what she was really doing there, nor why she didn’t just go back to sleep. After all, the sun had just barely begun to rise, but she supposed there was something refreshing about that. 

Not knowing quite what to do with herself, she grabbed a glass of water and stared out and watched as the sky changed from purple into light pinks and oranges and into the usual blue in shades she had seen only in a few flowers and the occasional painting. Softly, she grew flowers of her own against the windowsill. 

Begonia tuberosa. 

Mami’s favorite. 

“Isabella? Aren’t you normally asleep right now?” The tired but soft voice of her tia spoke from behind. 

“Hola T��a Pepa. Do you need anything?” Isa asked, ignoring her question with a smile, summoning a small rose in Pepa’s hair. Her tia smiled tiredly. 

“Nothing now, I just came to get some breakfast started,” She said with a yawn. Isa held back a cringe. 

Perhaps the thing she missed most about her mother was good food. Pepa practically insisted on making everything, only relenting for Abuela. As such, the family found themselves rather hungry most days… if they still had their appetite, that was. 

Isa couldn’t recall the last time she had seen her father eat. It seemed at almost every meal he was in Mamá’s room and Pepa or Félix would have to bring a tray. 

“That’s good,” Isa nodded with a perfect smile. Pepa nodded, quickly getting out pots and pans. The tween girl stood there, not knowing what else to do. 

When Pepa noticed her still standing there, she asked, “Do you… want to talk about it?” 

Isabella immediately shook her head. “No no, Tía, I’ll just leave you to your cooking.”

She left sharply after exchanging such words, still feeling lingering feelings of anger towards her tia. She had lied to her, after all; swearing Mamá was alright, but then saying she was asleep and before she knew it, Julieta was apparently in a rapid decline. To have given her such false hope– it boiled her blood to think about. 

But anger was imperfect. 

And so she removed herself. 

She kept walking until she realized she was at the front door of Casita. She looked back, pondering her options. However, it wasn’t for long, as she was quick to decide to keep carrying on into town. 

Very few villagers were out and about at this hour, only the occasional child fetching water or farmer setting up their stalls. Señor Molina was out with his accordion, beginning to practice, playing a soft and somber tune to warm up. She didn’t stop to listen. Instead she wandered alone through town, decorating lamp posts, benches, railings alike all with the blessed orange and pink flowers, replacing the previous days as they began to rot. 

The more her mother wasted away in her room, the more her flowers wasted too. 

The girl didn’t feel much, a certain ache filling her arms and chest. Her posture fought to slump, as she wanted nothing more than to sit down and fold in, to let everything just consume her already. But she resisted. 

Isabella Madrigal stood up straight. She created beautiful flowers. She was a beautiful flower. She couldn't let others know how fast they were withering– she had to fix it. Fix everything. Before anyone found out. 

Isabella Madrigal was perfect. 

She was perfect. 

She was–

“I-isabella? What are– uh– what are you doing here? It’s a little early, isn’t it,” A village boy spoke to her– Mariano Guzman! 

“Hola, Mariano. I just decided to get an early start on the day,” She said with her typical (and fake) warm smile. 

“Would you– uh– want to sit down?” He asked, scooting over on the bench for which he sat. Isa contemplated this a moment, looking the boy up and down before taking her place. 

“How’s your Mamá doing?” 

Of course he’d ask that. 

“She’s doing okay, I think. I’m not really ‘in the know’ though,” Isa shrugged, creating flowers that wrapped around the edge of the bench railing. 

“They’re lovely flowers,” He moved on, which Isa noted gratefully.

“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice,” she said perfectly. 

“They-they’re uh– they’re just as pretty as you,” He said, his face turning as red as a tomato. Isa blinked. 

“Thank you..?” Isa couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Mariano cleared his throat, his face going back to its usual shade. 

“S-sorry, I’ll work on that,” He wrote something down in a pocket journal. Isa just nodded slowly. An awkward moment of silence passed as the sounds of the village coming to life slowly surrounded the pair, and they knew they wouldn’t have long before they’d have to split. 

“I… I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m very sorry for your mama’s case. I hope she gets well soon, and not just for the village,” He said, looking her in the eyes. Isa smiled a much more genuine and soft smile. 

“Thank you, Mariano,” she said, hugging him. She stayed still a moment before whispering, “I’m… I’m really scared for her… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want to help, but I-i’m not allowed to go in there, and Dolores says I wouldn’t want to hear it and Luisa is all scared and–” “Hey, it’ll be okay, Isa,” Mariano interrupted the spiral. “You just gotta hold on a little longer.” 

Right. Yes, of course.

God, what was she even doing right now? 

“You’re right, Mariano. Thank you,” She sniffled weakly before standing. “Now… If you’ll excuse me, I have to go finish my rounds.” 

The boy looked confused, but nodded and Isa left without another word. 

She was so, so very tired of holding on. 

She still had to, though. Even if she had to tie the ropes around her wrists, she was going to trudge through this , keeping everything deep, deep down and be perfect because that was what the village and the family needed. 

Isa eventually finished her rounds, even goin around the village twice, when she saw Dolores clutching her skirt and running towards her at full speed. 

“Isa! Isa! It’s your mamá!” 

Blood drained from the older girl’s face, as she ran to meet with her cousin. 

“Dolores, que le pasa a Mamá?” Isa hurriedly asked, feeling thorns crawl up her skin. 

“S-she keeps calling for you– Keeps calling your name. I came to get you as fast I could– Buenos dias, it’s so loud ,” she said that last part to herself, covering her ears and shaking her head. Isa gave her cousin a quick squeeze for both of their comfort before springing back to Casita, ignoring the curious looks and hot tears streaming down her face. 

She practically busted down the doors of the house, ignoring everyone calling her name as she ran with all her might, Casita helping along, to her mother’s room.  

The light of her door flickered so strongly.

“Isa! Isabella! The verbena!” Her mother cried, her voice hoarse, blood dripping from her mouth, bringing Isa’s rage to a halt. The twelve year old stood frozen in the doorway a moment, trying her best not to gawk or turn over sick at the sight and smells before her. 

“M-mami, I’m right here. I’m right here Mami,” She said, pulling her feet off the ground and slowly making her way to her bed. Julieta’s eyes shot open wide, looking at her daughter. A putrid shade of yellow had almost overwhelmed her beautiful dark brown eyes. She shakily opened her hand towards her daughter, and Isa grabbed it instantly.  

A begonia tuberosa summoned instinctively around their hands.

Julieta smiled a little. 

“Mi Isa, mi hermosa flor, you are here,” She squeezed Isa’s hand, which trembled.

“What do you need, mami? I’m right here, I’ll do anything– just tell me, Mami,” She kneeled by the bed. 

“Do… do you remember the flower, Verbena? Little pink flowers? Wore them at your first communion,’ She shivered. 

“I-i… I don’t remember anything, Mami. It’s been so long since you taught me.” 

Julieta’s smile grew softer, as she lifted her other arm to Isa’s face, tucking her hair back. “I-i know, mi flor. I miss you… I miss you so much.” 

Isa’s tears increased tenfold, as she all but collapsed weeping onto her mother’s bed. Julieta held her carefully, stroking her hair with a sweaty hand. 

“Mi bebé… You used to be so small,” Julieta chuckled a little. “You still are small, but you are full of big worries. I’m so sorry, mi flor.”

“Don’t be sorry M-mami,” Isa sat up and wiped her eyes, guilt filling every inch of her body. “It’s not your fault– I’m the one who doesn’t make time.” 

Julieta chilled once again. “Isa, bebé, I-i don’t know how long I have. I-i keep forgetting, I keep… seeing things, i-its getting worse. I hate to ask you mi flor, you are so young, but i need you to help me, okay? I need you to read the red book with white letters. It has the Verbena. A-ask Abuela to make tea. It should help, if I remember correctly,” 

Isa nodded seriously, wiping the tears off her face. “R-red book, white letters.” 

Julieta smiled. “You’re so beautiful, Isabella. Te quiero mucho, mucho.” 

“Yo también te amo, mamá,” Isa sniffled, forcing a smile. Julieta frowned at that. 

“I’m so sorry, Isa,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m so sorry…” 

“Mami?” Isa shook her mama’s arm. “Mami, a-are you okay..?” 

No reply. 

Asleep once more. 

Isa curled up under her mother’s arm a moment, listening to her slow heartbeat and heavy breathing. She knew she couldn’t stay long– she had work to do (as seemed to be a pattern in her life…). This work was different though, it would do actual good– it could save her mamá! 

Isabella sprung up in an instant, running to her mama’s bookshelf, quickly scanning through for a red book with white letters. She began to scan the bookshelf when she heard the door creak behind her. 

“Isabella? Is Julieta alright?” Abuela Alma was at the door. Isa tensed, quickly wiping her face before turning over and nodding. 

“She remembered a flower that could help with yellow fever and since I don’t remember it she wants me to find it in her books so I can make it,” She said with a forced smile. 

“Always so helpful,” Alma smiled at her granddaughter. “What’s the title of the book?” 

“Mamá didn’t remember. She just said it was a red book with white letters,” Isa went back to her urgent scanning. Alma furrowed her eyebrows. 

“I don’t think Julieta owns a book like that,” She remarked, making her way towards the shelves. “And we already had Pepa scan through those whole books for something useful, if it had mentioned a cure, we would’ve noticed.”

Isabella started to feel sick. 

“I’m going to keep looking, just in case,” She determined, continuing to scan and pick up books. 

“Isabella, your mother is… unwell. Perhaps she gave the wrong description. Her mind is very sick, I think it would be better for the village if you helped with flowers, no?” Abuela tried to gently steer. 

“B-but… can’t I at least try to help Mamá? Surely my flowers are meant for more than to just look pretty,” Isa looked at the floor. 

The matriarch sighed. “All I know is that Pepa never found anything useful in those books of Julieta’s, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing. Besides, to help the village is to help Julieta. I'm sure when she feels better she'd appreciate it if the village was decorated with your lovely flowers.” 

Ouch. 

“ So you’re just giving up on her? Why? Isn’t she your daughter? She’s my Mamá– I have to do something! I can’t just stand here and look pretty. I might be the only one capable of actually saving her and you’re going to tell me I’m just wasting my time???” Isa’s mind screamed at Abuela, though Isa remained perfectly still. 

“...Can I at least go to the library?” She asked. 

Alma sighed. “It’s getting rather late, isn’t it? I don’t even know if Señor Sánches will even be there.” 

Isa could feel the dull beating of her heart in her chest, a heavy weight in her stomach. 

“I… please, Abuela?” She asked, looking her grandmother in the eyes. 

“No, Isabella. It is a fool's errand. I don’t want you getting your hopes up about a cure, we already tried that. Julieta is hallucinating again, or at least misremembering,” Abuela placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Isa looked at the ground and nodded solemnly. 

She really wanted to believe her mother was right, she really, really did. But… Abuela was right, Julieta didn’t own a book like that. Flipping through all of them revealed books on herbs, medicines, and diseases but the ones on yellow fever never claimed a cure and none of them mentioned the verbena.

“I’m gonna go to my room,” Isa said. Alma gave her a quick hug before Isa headed out, taking a moment to glance back at her mother. 

She looked horrible. 

Isa closed her eyes and went out to her room. 

Once she closed her door, she walked over to her bed, climbed onto the middle, and collapsed into sobs once again. Roses turned to blue orchids that bent over and mourned, and begonia tuberosa began  to grow and climb up the vines holding up her bed. If she were her tía, she could easily imagine the thunderstorm. 

God, this was just so… hopeless. Isa couldn’t do anything and yet she was still expected to do everything. She was expected to be perfect, to act like everything was okay for the village because the rest of her family was doing a whole lot worse at acting otherwise– especially Pepa and Papá. And what Abuela said! Goddddd what Abuela said made her blood boil. 

A fool’s errand. A fool’s errand to try and save her Mamá! Isa wished she had the courage to rebel against Alma and go to the library anyway, but alas, she didn’t. 

A fool’s errand. 

Her mama wouldn’t lie to her like that. 

A fool’s errand. 

Wait a minute… 

A fool’s… errand!

Mariano! 

She could write a message on a flower or write out a request on vines for him to go find the book for her! It would be hard, considering just how far away Casita was from his home, but she would at least try. It also didn’t help that she never attempted such a task, but Isa at least had to try. 

For Mamá. 

Focusing as hard as she could, Isa created a large pink petal with her magic, with the following note on it: 

“Mariano,

I need you to get a book from the library that’s red with white lettering. It’s for Mamá. 

Gracias!

-Isabella”

It was kind of hard to read and Isa had no idea how she expected it to get there, but she made her bed lift itself towards the sunroof, which opened with a wave of her hand, and hoping and praying and trying to use her gift as best she could, she sent it off with the breeze. 

She could only hope it would reach  Mariano– and that he’d be able to get it by tomorrow morning when she made her morning flower run. She needed to get this done asap, who knew how long her mamá really had left. 

Plus, her Mamá was counting on her. 

And Isabella Madrigal was going to be damned before she let her mamá down. 

[delightfulcrasher]

How would Albin react to his human s/o stealing a kiss? From earlier asks it seems he loves teasing, but what if his human did the same?

Like imagine: he casually stands somewhere, and then s/o steps onto a chair or smth and turnes his face to theirs, kissing him on the lips and then quickly jumping down to the floor, walking away giggling. ☺️

(These asks are very similar so I'll answer them both at once)

Surprise kiths 😳😳

It’s a bold move, but not an unwelcomed one. It certainly catches him off guard whenever it happens, no matter how frequent it may or not be.

But I do agree, the only way it can be a surprise is if they are at the same level.

He could be cooped up with the reader on his bed afterhours, dressed down in a smoking robe, sharing a book between them. As he reads, they can’t help but take in his finer features. And they soon find themself shuffling closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek. He doesn’t stop reading, only pulls them closer to him as a smile seeps onto his features. He appreciates the affection.

He could be helping them find something on a higher shelf. You know those tall library ladders connected to a bookshelf? Well, the reader in on one of those beside him. The reader could have said something like ‘It’s on the higher shelf’ but that could have just been a distraction to keep him busy. When the Lord turns in their direction, confused as to what exactly he is looking for, he is met with a surprise kiss on the lips.

The Lord would be left stricken with bemusement as his little human walks away giggling to themself. His reaction varies. He would either stand there, riddled with admiration, or he would have to go after them. What sort of gentleman would he be if he didn’t return the fine gesture?

If the reader does an uno reverse and kisses him on the hand, he’ll be more than happy. They’ve taken a note out of his book and applied his own methods on him. He does it as a sign of devotion, are they signalling the same? Truly, the reader always surprises him in the best of ways.

It makes him like them even more, knowing that at any second he could be caught off guard. It might get a little harder to give him surprise kisses if he gets used to them, so I suggest using them sparingly.

(The only reason he doesn’t get as flustered being kissed as when he get’s called adorable is because the man knows he’s handsome. You would have to be a fool not to smooch him. Being called adorable is a new for him, but having to kiss as a greeting is not.)

[wherestoriescomefrom]

yesyesyesyeysyeysyey post ur poem <3

Lichis.

My mother brings lichis from the market They are red, first of the season. She makes me promise to leave some for others. I nod, pick seven from a total of twenty Wonder why she only ever buys half a kilo. They spoil quickly, she says. Use a bowl! I take a plastic bowl, my fingers scrabbling at the skin. Once I have peeled the red, a thinner one, More translucent, white. And when that is gone, I bite Into the flesh. Juice dribbles down my chin.

It is many years later, And my mother buys lichis again. She makes me promise to eat them before they go bad. At some point, many hours later, While I am working at my table, She brings me a plate full. I return them to the fridge, not wanting to get sticky Chill them for longer, And then much later, I split half a kilo into four parts. Some for my sister, Some for my mother, Some for my father. I pull them from their stems, so that their skin breaks. Deftly peel them, Make an incision into their flesh, And pull it away from the seed. The juice drips from my fingers. I hand the peeled lichis to my sister and my mother, Make a plate for myself, Return to my room, continue working. My fingers reach for the lichis every once in a while.

All of growing up Has been about practicing peeling lichis.

[redstone-sun]

looking at a possible sequel so hard rn. the implication it could happen eventually has me unreasonably excited

AKDPFNJSKD well i’m happy somebody’s interested! if i never finish the 3 year anniversary fics(which i probably won’t considering i posted them unfinished) it might be cool to revisit trsns through a Way In The Future fic!

[suppressedanxiety]

Red! Creativity, what exactly are you doing out there? 💬

Roman wiped his forehead off with an arm, leaning back for a moment to survey his handiwork. 

“I’m doing what I do best, of course! Thomas needs ideas, inspiration, ingenuity, and Yours Truly is here to provide them!” he beamed as another series of potential projects sunk into Thomas’s mind, somewhat sporadically connected but all sound ideas nonetheless. “This is excellent, just like Patton said! I’ve never had so many good ideas so quickly.

“Normally, quite a few of them don't meet my standards, and even more get shot down by Negative Nancy before they even have a chance to fully flourish. Though, I suppose that won’t be a problem now.”    

He paused, something in his mind catching on the idea of Anxiety. There was something about him that had made Roman feel… upset. No, worried? About Anxiety? 

Roman frowned, trying to remember what he’d been planning on doing before this brainstorming session distracted him. His purpose took priority, but he’d been putting out plenty of concepts, so there wasn’t any harm in checking in on his guest. 

Decided, he stepped out of the Imagination and was astonished to see that the fairy lights in his room had shifted into the soft lilac and silver of early evening. It had been a while since he’d been caught up in a creative fugue long enough to lose track of time. 

He shook the surprise away, scanning the front of the miniature castle for Anxiety. No sign of him. 

Ignoring the twist of unease in his gut as the glow of the Imagination faded away, he stepped forward and tapped the enclosure, watching as the rooms began to rotate, waiting for them to settle wherever the tiny side had hidden away. 

The castle kept rotating, cycling through each room over and over with no results to show for it. 

Roman stepped closer, and there was a crunch under his heel. He jumped back, panicked imaginings of a tiny body flashing through his brain before he registered the hunk of plaster on the floor. Even as he watched, the palm-sized bit of ceiling cracked in half, the orange portal he’d so carefully placed on it fizzling into nothing. 

The portal that the moat led to. Which had been on the floor instead of inside the castle where he’d left it. The castle that was empty.

Anxiety had escaped. 

The realization seemed to clear the cobwebs from his mind, and he nearly bolted for the door before remembering himself and looking carefully at the floor around him. Nothing. 

There was no way the tiny Side would have chosen to stay in Roman’s room after escaping, so he carefully stepped over to the door and into the hall, scanning every bit of carpet around him before moving an inch. 

He couldn't possibly guess how much ground his quarry had covered while he was in the Imagination, so he kept his movements slow and quiet, hoping there were no convenient mouse-sized boltholes in their walls. 

As he got closer to the stairs, he could hear Patton whistling away, which meant that at the very least, Anxiety hadn’t gotten the attention of that Side yet. Patton would definitely be acting differently if he’d found Anxiety, especially if he was informed of the many mistakes of the past few days. 

Roman had thought the experiment would be easy enough to manage, but they hadn’t even made it to a week without losing the Side they were supposed to be monitoring. 

A spot of dark color finally caught his gaze, and he did a double take at the sight of Anxiety, tucked against the wall and curled up into the smallest shape he could manage. 

He wasn’t hiding, even though Roman’s steps must have been big enough to make the ground vibrate. He wasn’t running, despite the stairs to the kitchen (and by extension, Patton) being only inches away. He wasn’t even moving. 

Roman felt another spike of panic and knelt, carefully using a curled finger to pull Anxiety from the corner. He was moved without resistance, and when Roman scooped him into a palm, Anxiety was unsettlingly limp.

Despite this corpse-like behavior, Roman was close enough that he could make out the slight rise and fall of Anxiety’s chest, the way his eyes were actually open, with a thousand-yard stare that seemed to look right through him.    

“... Anxiety?” he asked softly, and got no response. 

For the first time, there wasn’t any tension in Anxiety’s body when he wrapped his fingers around him more securely, not a single twitch as he turned and hurried back to his room, and nothing resembling a response when Roman continued to try and question him.  

Throughout this entire ordeal, Anxiety had been full of motion and expression, raising his voice to argue with them and challenging their decision nearly every step of the way. Even when he wasn’t fighting, he was watching them with an intensity that would make anyone shudder. Big or small, Anxiety had never been shy about telling them exactly what he thought, often ready to escalate any disagreement into a fight.

Now, he didn’t fight anything, allowing Roman to position him on a seat and check him over for new injuries as though he couldn’t care less what the giant appendages around him were doing. As though he couldn’t care less what happened to him. His eyes were dull and faraway, making something in Roman’s chest twist unpleasantly. 

In all aspects, it was like he’d just… given up.

What had happened out there?

[the-writing-mobster]

| YWIW Chapter 13 is finally out! | Read it HERE on Ao3 | ❤️‍🔥⚜️

Chapter Word Count: 8,894

Chapter Excerpt~

———

“So… Dante, right? I had a buddy named Dante at University. We don't talk anymore though.” Dante looked up from his deep contemplation and he tilted his head to indicate his slight annoyance at having been interrupted. The look sent a small shiver down his spine but he knew that the last thing he could show this creature was fear. 

“Is that so?” murmured Dante with dry disinterest. 

Moses nodded curtly and forced a smirk on his lips as he sat down and gestured for Dante to join him. The fire imp remained standing, which Moses refused to let bother him. He didn’t like him, but he had to be able to trust him. Liking someone and trusting them were two completely different things.“Mhm… although he was much more of an open book. I could never get him to shut up. You on the other hand… are quite the mystery, aren’t you?” 

Dante struck another match and made a point of making eye contact with him as it burned down his gloved fingers before the smoke wafted through his line of sight. “You two must have made good friends.” His voice was quiet, almost like the hiss of a match in and of itself. 

Moses ran his index finger along his five o’clock shadow, an amused smirk pulling at his lips and he nodded slowly. Studied the fire demon before him. “You know it took me a minute to trust Frisk, but I do. I do. And so, when I notice that she doesn’t like you… that she doesn’t completely trust you… it makes me wonder.” Dante lifted his chin as Moses pulled himself closer.

“Who’s guarding my wife? What’s in it for him… could he be out bid? I know the Valeska’s have a lot of money… and I know they could promise a lot like…Oh, I don’t know, a place on the surface? What’s stopping you from betraying us?” he asked. 

Dante blinked slowly, before sitting back and sucking in a thoughtful breath as he mimicked the way Moses stroked his chin. Finally, he glanced back up at him and smirked. “No one’s offered yet.” 

Moses sat back with a dumbfounded expression as he watched Dante stand up and stretch, before leaving him there to fester in his own doubt. 

.

.

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