#and nobody saw him! nobody saw him they just saw swatch. he falls out of view when he lays down in those booths so he just got to Stay There

[svtskneecaps]

soulmate! dk

hiya. my new years resolution was “get this shit the fuck out of my drafts” so while i’m only SLIGHTLY more enthused by this fic now i was than when i wrote it, i’m publishing it. if people like it i’ll call it part of the main soulmate saga but otherwise i’m just going to call it a standalone like when i posted “see you when i fall asleep”

reader x dk ; fluff ; words : 1.4k

synopsis: you go to a concert as the emotional equivalent of a cat walking on the keyboard. this has consequences.

soulmark: the colors you see correspond to your soulmate’s emotions.

Seungkwan || The8/Minghao || Hoshi/Soonyoung || Junhui || Jeonghan || Joshua || Mingyu || Vernon || S.coups/Seungcheol || Wonwoo || Woozi/Jihoon || DK/Seokmin || main masterlist

you were one of the lucky few that knew you had a soulmate before you turned that magical age of ten

usually that’s when everybody would get their soulmark but it didn’t take long for your parents to realize that your apparent colorblindness could only be explained by a soulmark

or. well. you could just be chronically colorblind and genetically see in grayscale, but that theory went out the window when you turned ten, and the Colors started appearing

seemingly at random, certain colors would be highlighted in your vision. maybe pink and yellow, maybe red and blue, maybe green and purple

you had to carry a color sheet with you for years before you could correctly name the colors you were seeing

eventually you concluded that it had to be the famed emotion color mark, which was exciting as supposedly it was fairly rare

it was also deeply upsetting because it was rare enough that nobody knew how it manifested exactly

see, apparently when you got physically closer to your soulmate, the colors would get more vibrant and your emotions would be amplified

but also, reportedly, if you got physically further from your soulmate, the colors would get more vibrant and your emotions would be amplified

FUCKING PICK ONE, HELLO??

and you weren’t sure what emotions the colors corresponded to either

some colors had common correlations (like, yellow and gold were usually happy colors, blue was sad, etc.) but it wasn’t guaranteed that those colors corresponded to those emotions for YOUR particular soulmark. it could theoretically be different

and you didn’t know your soulmate so it wasn’t like you could call them up and ask what emotion was making you see red

anyway, the lack of any real definitive knowledge of the mark meant that when you noticed the swatches on your color sheet were getting distinctly brighter, you had no idea what the hell it meant

seokmin was on tour. they were flying around the world, and they were performing everywhere and meeting carats and seeing so many beautiful things, and the colors swimming in his eyes kept getting brighter and duller with the path of their travel

he was determinedly hopeful that his soulmate would be at the height of his emotions, even though nobody could really tell him for sure (not even joshua and his soulmate, the resident soulmark experts)

but it just felt right

you had tickets to the concert, as it so happened, and you were beyond excited

like, even without the heightened emotions you would have been bouncing off the walls. as it was you’d cried for three hours after you got the tickets and you kept bursting into tears every time you saw them, it was that bad

regardless, you were really hoping you could make it through the concert without having a complete emotional breakdown

the day of the concert dawns and your vision is vibrant in yellows and golds and pinks and you can’t sit still for a second

seokmin is the most hyper and the most nervous he’s ever been. he had to look up breathing exercises just to keep himself together

with how absolutely bananas his emotions were being and how bright the colors were, he was either a couple meters from you or he was on the exact opposite side of the planet, there wouldn’t be an in between

(he was a little scared of the answer, sending a few flecks of purple across your vision, but mostly excited)

you managed to keep your energy to a level that was acceptable during the concert (it wasn’t nearly as hard as you were expecting; the energy in the crowd was high)

the members seemed as enthusiastic as ever, maybe even more so, especially seokmin

it was contagious, how brightly he was smiling, and your heart thrummed in your chest seeing it, seeing him silhouetted in the stage lights

(seokmin wondered absently why there was suddenly so much pink)

but concerts have to end, like it or not, and eventually the members waved goodbye and vanished backstage, and you, well

you were not expecting the post concert depression to hit so hard

curse your hubris

so, it was extremely embarrassing to be sitting in the lobby, hiding your face and sobbing so hard you’d started to hiccup, but you’d managed to explain to security (between each gasping breath) that it was your soulmark messing with your emotions, and they understood the risk and were willing to let you sob it out in the lobby instead of out on the streets somewhere more dangerous, which was very nice of them

unfortunately your gratitude towards the venue security was amplified by your soulmark and sent you into yet another fit of tears

seokmin wasn’t faring all that much better, although the concert crash was a physical enough thing that he wasn’t sobbing as hard as you (the choreographies really take a lot out of a guy)

that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling the height of the mood swings, and even through the post concert crash, his determination to find the epicenter of the emotional activity just grew (aided by the soulmark, of course)

and then their manager tells them that there’s a fan in the lobby sobbing their eyes out and attributing it to a soulmark that was heightening their emotions

and for a minute seokmin can’t breathe

you thought it was weird that the guy watching over you in your crying corner asked you if it was a color emotion mark, until he said he knew somebody with that mark. then it made sense

either he was looking into it to see if they were your soulmate or he was checking to see if they would be equally as emotionally destroyed as you were at that moment

(the thought of how you must look right now was hilarious enough that you were now laughing and crying at the same time, and lord but the emotions just kept soaring HIGHER)

and then the guard suggests you go backstage, and you trail him because you can’t really argue, it’s way better than being in the lobby where people are still leaving the concert hall and probably staring at you

you’re not expecting to be lead into a room that holds, of all people, lee fucking seokmin

YOU ARE A SOBBING MESS, YOU DO NOT WANT TO MEET LEE SEOKMIN LIKE THIS OH GOD

thankfully the thought of whatever bizarre first impression you’re giving him is funny enough that it takes over and you’re finally able to stop crying, even though you’re now doubled over laughing so hard your stomach hurts and DAMN THIS SUCKS

when you finally collect yourself enough to look up you notice him bouncing on his heels, adding a good few inches to his height at the peak

“I THINK WE’RE SOULMATES!!” he yells, because he’s so excited he literally can’t contain himself

you’re not forming a lot of coherent thoughts at the moment so the words that slip out of your mouth end up being “DUDE NO FUCKIN WAY THAT’S AWESOME” and you’re only vaguely aware that the entire backstage probably heard it, with how loud you’re yelling

and he’s looking at you and abruptly you notice that his hair is pink, it’s so brightly pink and you’d never been able to see his hair color before, not like this, but before you even get a chance to remark on it in a no doubt ridiculously embarrassing way, he throws himself forward and closes the distance between you

and then his arms are around you and the colors grow so bright and your heart swells so much you think you’ll burst with the love and the joy filling your chest

and then your emotions abruptly return to normal and you’re suddenly acutely aware that you’ve spent fifteen minutes sobbing in the lobby, you yelled a swear word at lee seokmin- FUCK, YOU’RE HUGGING LEE SEOKMIN

YOU’RE SOULMATES WITH LEE SEOKMIN???

you start crying again, but at least it’s more dignified this time. and he’s crying too, so. at least you’re not alone there

he sinks into your arms and you sink into his and he can’t help but think that you fit, that your arms sit around him perfectly, that you lock together like a pair of puzzle pieces and he never wants to let go

(he does, eventually, but he keeps your hand in his)

[cozylittleartblog]

swatchvember: 90′s, rainy day, sleeping

cramming some of these prompts together to be silly <3 they spent a lot of time back then keeping some rich up-and-coming little salesman entertained, he’s one of their best customers. maybe you’ve heard of him...

[wordsbynathan]

WIP INTRO

title: Peel

genre: queer fantasy/sci-fi

category: young adult

setting: Wisteria, NY; present day

POV: dual 1st person present

status: drafting

themes+tropes: family, identity, mental health, generational trauma, found family and friendship, autonomy, queer relationships

vibes: a plane blinks out of existence; the spiral of a blood orange peel; paint swatches tacked to a corkboard; scoops of ice cream piled so high they should topple; dusty basements with old tomes and articles that expose horrendous truths; trashcans full of chewing gum wrappers; interlocked fingers tugged apart by cosmic forces

one-line pitch: angsty gays accidentally discover inter-dimensional travel

epigraph:

"Someone said the sky is falling, tell me, is it true? Everything's alright when I'm with you Let's just stay asleep 'Cause when I sleep, I still can hear you Let's just stay asleep" —Ingrid Michaelson, "Mother"

(synopsis, characters, and excerpts under the read more)

synopsis:

Fletcher Kaplan's life isn't perfect, but until the final semester of high school, at least it's normal. He works hard for his grades, has a boyfriend who loves him and a great relationship with his single father. But when he wakes up exactly eighteen years after their move from Pakistan to the United States with the echoes of a nightmare ringing in his ears, he starts to question his reality. He wonders if the story he's been told about his mother's death is all true, but more pressing is the fact that Fletcher starts to see things, think things, and he's too afraid to tell Ellison for fear of scaring him away. When the eccentric and intimidating Corinne approaches him and validates what he's been experiencing, Fletcher decides to put his trust in her. As soon as they start to get answers, everything seems to come crashing down around them.

Ellison Moon has it all. His family may fight and his sister Astrid may be challenging to get along with, but they're ultimately a tight-knit unit. He's the captain of the Wisteria High basketball team and it looks like he may be leading the team to their first championship win in years. Most importantly, he has Fletcher, who he loves. In fact, Fletcher has no idea how much Ellison loves him because he's terrified of how deeply he feels. When Fletcher starts to act mysterious and even lie to Ellison, he attempts at first to ignore it but finds this impossible. He wants to be with Fletcher forever, but more and more it feels like Fletcher is going where Ellison can't follow. In the wake of an earth-shaking trauma, Ellison's internal world collapses and he uses up all of his emotions; with newfound clarity he realizes he can follow Fletcher forever, but in doing so he opens the door to chaotic impossibility.

main characters:

Fletcher Kaplan—POV • 18 • Intelligent • Dreamer • Nostalgic • Anchor

Fletcher is used to moving around due to the fact that his father is almost always in the market for a new job, but he's been blessed with the opportunity to finish all four years at the same high school. Despite this being the first time he feels like he can actually plant roots, he only really has two friends: his father and Ellison, Fletcher's boyfriend. Not until existence begins to crumble does Fletcher realize the importance of reaching out and grabbing tight to other hands. Until then, he fights off stray thoughts that feel like they're coming from an external source and hopes he can prevent his tiny family from slipping through the cracks of this reality. And the next.

Ellison Moon—POV • 18 • Loyal • Restless • Cunning • Stubborn

Ellison is one of four members of the iconic Moon clan—a family to end all families in Wisteria. Though he's well-mannered, he has a rebellious streak; Ellison's always chewing on something to soothe his fidgety nerves, and he does all he can to find loopholes in his parents' rules. As an openly gay athlete, he has influence in multiple worlds and commands respect with the combination of his athletic talent and goofy but warm demeanor. When Ellison feels, he feels deeply (often to a fault), and he does all he can to hide his weak spots.

Corinne Stetson—17 • Wise • Savvy • Eccentric • Analytical

Corinne is the class weirdo, but nobody would dare make fun of her. She's bizarre but insanely intelligent, and it's a wonder why she hasn't skipped a grade or two. Her deep red hair is littered with streaks of bleach blonde and there are rumors that she hides sharp objects in her fiery mane. She becomes an unexpected spiritual guide for Fletcher, as she has a useful brand of otherworldly knowledge that he lacks. As their paths converge, she comes to realize that Fletcher has plenty to offer himself, if she can just get herself to open up and let somebody in.

Astrid Moon—16 • Witty • Headstrong • Artistic • Persuasive

Despite the fact that he's a complete idiot, Ellison is still the perfect son, a standard Astrid feels she can't live up to. So she'll let Ellison be the favorite and follow her own path, piercing her ears with safety pins and cutting her hair in the mirror, dressing in all black some days and in pink the next. There's nothing Astrid values more than bodily autonomy and a girl's right to make her own choices. This is what draws her to Corinne like a moth to a crimson flame; she helps Astrid see her potential, and it becomes clear that Astrid has a bigger role to play in their lives than she could have imagined.

~*~*~*~*~

excerpts:

It’s as if the plane never existed.

Then, there’s some kind of hiccup and it’s back. I force my eyes shut and open them wide, repeat this, try to make sense of what I just saw.

Far away, the birds dip below my line of sight.

Goldenreed is only ten minutes away, but it almost feels like you could pack a whole live into that time if you just figure out how to measure it correctly.

The cafeteria chatter drones on around us, the excited buzzing of teenagers who have no idea that they’re hurtling through existence on an infinite orange peel that’s blighted at the end.

taglist (tagging general; if you’d like to be on the taglist for Peel please let me know!!! <3): @my-liminal-spaces​ @ahowlinwolf​ @sugarcoatedglass​ @chloeswords​ @rainbowcoloreddays​ @alicewestwater​ @ryns-ramblings​

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration Of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 |

Part 7: When Blue Met Pink

chapter one: joyce

also on ao3

Billy pulled into the parking space outside of Melvald’s with a screech of the tires. The body of the car slightly jerked forward once he finally came to a complete stop just before he would hit the yellow parking block. The right tire sat just outside the white line, a rookie looking parking job to say the least.

With his wallet in one hand, and his keys twirled around the index finder of his other, as he heard the metal pieces clank, he walked through the glass doors into the store. He heard the chime of the opening door ring through the mostly empty space.There were only a few people. An old lady who was carefully inspecting the soup aisle, and a middle aged woman with her toddler son who were walking past the ice cream. The little kid with his hand up in the air, his finger pointed to the tub of rocky road that was barely visible through fogged over glass. He noticed the exhausted eyes of the woman masked by heavy mascara and shadow. “I already said no Daniel.” she sighed. Joyce Byers was at the counter, her elbows resting by the cash register, head propped up in her hands as she stared blankly in front of her with her head tilted in a way that indicated she was thinking about something that the rest of the world just couldn’t comprehend.

He ignored the total three figures that roamed the aisles of the small little corner store, offered a wave and a smile to Mrs. Byers that went completely unnoticed, and got to the task at hand. Not there to pick up some milk or butter like Neil always had him do whenever they ran out, as if he was the one sneaking spoonfuls of butter at two in the morning. No, that was all Max, the fucking weirdo. He also wasn’t there to pick up a pack of cigarettes, though he probably would once he got to the counter, considering the phrase “pack of reds” served as his default greeting to every cashier. He was there, at Melvald’s, at three in the afternoon, like a fucking sap, because he was buying little treats for the boyfriend he had waiting for him at the big house off of 3rd avenue, a movie and hopefully more as their evening plans.

He knew what Steve liked. He hated what Steve liked. But despite his utter disgust over strawberry fruit snacks tainting delicious cheddar cheese popcorn, the smile on Steve’s face whenever he tossed a new box of Sunkist Fun Fruits at him was worth the effort of sifting through the bowl. He located the snack aisle and picked out the familiar yellow and red box, along with some Orville Redenbacher. The time on the clock overhead read only a quarter after three, and Steve wouldn’t be home from dealing with the nerd herd until at least a quarter ‘til, so with his extra time, he continued to browse.

He picked up a couple of other things. A box of Twinkies so he could make some of his favorite jokes, some Ho Hos so Steve could make some of his. The basket was slowly filled to the brim with junk food, indicative of a truly wild night ahead of him.

On his way to the refrigerated section to scope out the drinks, the glimpse of a carefully assorted rainbow of colors stopped him in his tracks. It’s a small section, no more than two and a half feet in diameter, but at almost the instant he recognized the familiarly shaped bottles on display, he went on complete pause. There was nobody anywhere around him, no sound of nearing footsteps, so he let himself stand there and ponder. Let himself imagine just reaching out and touching something on display as he kept his eyes averted, locked straightforwardly toward the cases of beer behind translucent refrigerator doors. He just stared blankly, with an inner attempt to form some reasonable excuse to be a man who was looking at makeup.

“Oh, Max asked me to pick it up for her.”

He settled on that one.

And turned his head.

He was just going to look. That was all.

There held a whole magnitude of various beauty products, from polishes, to moisturizers, to lipsticks…

That rosy pink stared right back at him like it was screaming at him to pick it up. To look. To swatch. To taste. To feel that velvety cream cover his lips. A tint similar to that of his own lips but just more… pretty. Smooth and elegant and airbrushed. “Soft matte look,” it read.

He wanted it.

He wanted to add it into the basket of goodies he’s already collected as another treat for himself. Maybe a treat for Steve if he decides he likes it.

They discussed it in the past in a very, tip-toed around the subject kind of way. Steve gently held his hand in his as he applied a light pink varnish, similar to that of the lipstick shade, onto his nails. Steady hands perfectly coated the area without any sign of streaks or rough edges. They’d reached a point where that was routine, a little thing Billy could have of himself while they were alone together. Another thing they could add onto the list. It was something Billy felt just a little bit of safety around taking with him that one time. When the night had gone so perfectly with hot cocoa by the furnace, and the added bonus that Neil wouldn’t be home to inspect his appearance, he said no to the cotton balls and acetone and the clear coat replacement and instead let color coated nails remain under the cloak of his jacket pockets. He was on cloud nine as he walked through the door of his own house with concealed hands and no questions asked. He locked the door to his room and allowed himself to stare down at his hands. Fingers splayed against his bedding looking at how the pink contrasted with the blue of his sheets, and he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and a little dash of pride.

That same night, while his nails were going from bland to bold, Steve popped the question like it held no weight at all. Like it was just a casual sort of thing used to fill the silent gaps.

“Have you thought about wearing makeup at all?”

He didn’t even look at him when he said it, completely enthralled in the way the bristles contacted the nail, so he didn’t see Billy's eyes widen like saucers. However, he did notice as the hand in his hold began trembling.

Steve ever so slightly tightened his grip to help reduce the shaking, his eyes angled up at Billy finally, the painting temporarily discontinued. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

No. Yes? The thing was, with Steve’s first question, the answer was yes. He had thought about it. All the damn time. Like a woodpecker pecking away at his skull, he thought about it. Every time he saw a woman with a shimmer on her eyes, black in her waterline, a shine to her lips, a rosy tint to her cheeks… he felt unbridled envy. He wanted to feel the way they felt. Billy wanted powder to clog his pores and give his face a uniform color. Become a blank slate. He envied that soft and smooth and gentle and pretty appearance.

He found himself on more than one occasion sneaking into the master bathroom where Susan had kept all of her make up. Too scared to touch it, he would just look at it. Try to psyche himself up to reach for that little tube of Mary Kay mascara and shove it into his pocket before the rumble of the truck outside would shake the house.

Instead he would slam the drawer shut and rush back to his room and forget it even happened as he bit away at his clear coated nails. He’d fall back onto his pillow and let his eyes fall shut. He would let the darkness consume him into a dream where he didn’t have to be afraid to add volume to his already long lashes or add a tinted gloss to his lips. He’d enjoy the free feeling for as long as it would last.

So yeah. He thought about wearing makeup.

He didn’t tell Steve that though. Instead he chose to only respond to the second question. Because some things were just a little too hard to say out loud. Some things were a little too foreign.

As much as Billy wanted to bridge that gap between femininity and masculinity, he also had every desire to keep them separate. To push away all of those urges to wear lacy lingerie and silk panties. Keep his hair short, face and nails bare and unkempt. Smell of sweat and hard work like a man. “I’m fine.” he said in lieu of the complete truth. It didn’t feel or sound like a lie when he said it. But later on he figures out that it definitely was.

They had that conversation already, but it didn’t keep those thoughts from lingering. His mind was boggled with confusion about who he was and what he liked and the additional bafflement over how simple it all was to Steve.

So simple in fact that he said the most perfect thing as if it was just another instinctual flick of the tongue.

“Well I can bet you’d look real pretty with lipstick.”

It was said like he wants it. Not just for Billy’s sake, but his own, and that right there felt amazing.

That was the first night he finally let his hands sift through that drawer of Susan’s and sneak away a couple of items. Susan and Neil had yet to arrive home from their trip into the city so Billy was safe. He had painted nails that felt like a shield. When he held the tube of mascara, the nude bullet lipstick, and the only bottle of polish he could find in his own hands, he felt completely untouchable.

He locked himself in his own room and stood in front of his makeshift vanity. Tossed the stolen objects into the mess of cologne, hairspray, and cigarette ash. He just studied himself for a moment. Hunched over taking deep and shaky breaths, in and out. Every logical thought in his mind was shouting at him to go put it back. To put it somewhere other than his room. That dreadful thought that just its temporary occupancy in his room would be easily detected by Neil, even if he chucked it out of his window right then, scared him. It was all too risky to be doing in his own house, yet he still twisted open the cap of the mascara and pulled out the wand.

It was in that moment that Billy had no fucking clue what he was doing. Didn’t even know where to begin.

He just closed it right back up, slipped it underneath a stack of records, and moved on. He twisted open the lipstick only to be met with a very light shade. Lighter than his own skin color. Applied to his lips it just looked absolutely ridiculous. It didn’t give him that pop of vibrancy he envied in the women he saw. It made his lips feel more sunken in and lifeless, rather than big and beautiful.

And he already knew he hated the nail polish. He didn’t even have to apply it. It was a rust color, like a dirty orange. Billy hated the color orange, and mixing it with brown didn’t fucking improve it.

It was all a total bust. A complete waste of his energy. With his sleeve he wiped the lipstick from his lips and stowed away the rest of the contraband. He went to bed feeling extra shitty, the despair of empty darkness was the only thing included in his night.

He stopped letting himself think about makeup since that night. All it achieved was making him feel disappointed and just... bad. No other way to describe it.

But it all came flooding back when he saw the display. Not the bad feelings, the good ones, the ones he had in his dreams. The feeling of completion that couldn’t be realized with the makeup Susan guilt purchased off of a friend’s “growing small business.” There was a little hope growing in the pit of his stomach as he let himself peruse the many options at his disposal. A little bit of hope that maybe he just didn’t have the right stuff.

He just held the pink lipstick in his hand. He debated between dropping it into the basket or hanging it back up on the hook. Twiddling it in between his fingers, he let his mind race to many different places. Emotions of fear and joy clashed in his mind, like he couldn’t have one without facing the other.

But fear wasn’t dependent on joy. Because a small woman cleared her throat next to him and, surely enough, the only thing he was feeling at that moment was complete terror. Not an ounce of happiness to be seen.

It was Joyce Byers.

Well shit.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, neck craned to the left to make out what he had tightly clasped between his fingers.

“It’s for Max.” he said, too assuredly. Like it was clearly a prepared statement, the lie obvious in the pitch of his voice.

“Really? Max doesn’t strike me as a makeup girl.” It’s not really accusatory, not necessarily. But he could hear it. That ever so slight undertone in her voice that had disbelief written all over it. Her head was cocked just like it was when he first walked into the store, and it felt like she was reading him like a goddamn open book.

Billy couldn’t seem to find the words, unsure how to defend himself in the situation he was completely unprepared for. Stood there in silence as he let the words filter through his brain, waiting for the right ones to pop up in front of him, but they never did. He never really knew how to talk to older women other than through excessive and overdone flirtation.

“What shade did you pick?”

With no other choice in his immediate thoughts, he handed the lipstick tube over. She slowly took it away from his slightly too tight of a grip. She had a slight smile when she pulled off the cap to see the rose colored tip slowly rise out as she twists the bottom of the silver tube.

“This is pretty, though I think a shade like this would complement a skin tone more like your own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That was the invitation, right there in that subtle little nod. She made eye contact with him before she quickly turned her eyes downward at his hands. the same hands that were nervously chipping away at dried, hideous, rust colored nail polish that he painted just before he left as a little surprise for Steve. Even though he hated the color, even though his right hand looked much better than his left. Ambidexterity was not something in his wheelhouse. He immediately stuffed his one free hand into his pocket, and tossed the other one that was currently holding his basket of groceries behind his back. As if she hadn’t already seen. She’d figured him out like some elementary math problem. The lipstick and the nail polish was just a 2 + 2 = 4 kind of situation.

“I don’t - this isn’t…” He couldn’t get a full sentence out because he really had no clue as to how to deny it, and there’s also a weird feeling that he loathes where he’s not sure he even wants to. She was just Joyce Byers. His only connection to the woman had a pretty long chain. Steve’s ex’s boyfriend’s Mom. Or Max’s friend’s Mom. Nothing direct. Nothing so close that he had to truly fear. Additionally, she was being nice? She wasn’t doing the things he’d always expected people to do. She wasn’t spewing slurs or making fun. There was a genuine motherly interest in the way she asked for the color that wasn’t completely foreign, but it was something so far away in his past that it might as well have been.

His face got red from just his own natural blush. His heart was racing, beating out of his chest until he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He felt like he’s being submerged under water until there was a small, cold hand pulling at his own.

“Come with me.” she says, her voice soft and planned. Billy just let her guide him, giving up and giving in to the little temptation to let someone else inside of the little sanctuary he built for himself. Even if all it was was just a small little glimpse into Billy’s secret world he’d only just begun exploring. He had so many things left to discover, things he wouldn’t find if he let his fear and shame dictate everything.

Joyce led him into the compact supply closet in the back of the store. They’re surrounded by shelves filled with boxes and various miscellany. He felt slightly suffocated in the small enclosure, but simultaneously a weird feeling of warmth in the way Joyce smiled at him. A soft upturn of the corners of her mouth, lips still sealed but the sincerity clear in the brightness of her eyes and the slight rise of her brows.

“What were you looking to get?” she asks. Unspecific yet specific. She left a name unattached to the end of the question on purpose to give Billy the opportunity for an out, if he wanted to deny the thing they both knew to be true.

“Lipstick? Gloss maybe? I don’t - I’m not sure I…”

After taking the full basket from his hands and setting it onto the floor, Joyce took his hands into her own again.

“It’s okay, y’know, if it’s not for Max.”

She was so straightforward. She just got right to the point without it feeling like an attack. Just strode right in with unwavering acceptance and affirmation. Letting him know that it was okay.

He looked at Joyce and saw his mom. Not the mom who abandoned him with Neil, but the mom who did things like this. The one who would cradle him after a nightmare and who told him he was destined for greatness. The one who encouraged him to be himself even when his father had other ideas.

“You know who you are. Nobody else gets to say differently.” she’d tell him when his father forced him into baseball and threw out his stuffed animals. Neil would go on to replace the keepsakes that represented softness with model cars and legos. It was just an act of toughening him up and preparing him to become a man at the ripe old age of seven. He was reminded daily of his role as a man in society with little tests just to make sure he stayed in line.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” he’d say, when he wanted to say purple.

He’d get berated when he cried when he got hurt.

“If you want to cry I’ll give you something to cry about,” Neil would say, as he stuck a hydrogen peroxide saturated cotton ball into the open wound.

Billy’s Mom never did that. Always warned him about the sting and rubbed his arm the whole way through. Preaching the opposite of everything his Dad would say. “It’s okay to cry, honey. Just let it out.”

His Mom was beautiful. He loved to sit in the bathroom and watch her as she put on her makeup. He’d seen the way her mouth dropped open when she applied mascara to her eyes, the way she smacked her lips together after she swiped on her favorite red lipstick... he wanted to be just like her.

He’d stolen from her once, and it didn’t end well. It was just a red lipstick. He was caught, almost literally, red handed. When his father had barged into his bedroom without so much as a knock, the red on his lips turned into red elsewhere. It was a mistake he learned never to repeat.

After all that, there he was, in a store where he listened to a woman tell him that all of the things he was raised to believe were far from okay, were perfectly okay. With Steve’s voice in his head echoing that of his Mom’s and Joyce’s, he let himself actually believe it this time.

“Thanks.” Billy said. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to an admission. He can’t outright say it, but in the way her smile widened before she turned around, he knew she understood.

“So,” she said, “–I have some product we can’t sell because the seals were broken. They’re still perfectly fine if you would like them.” She pulled a couple of things from the box on the lower shelf. The same lipstick he’d held out in the store along with a clear gloss, a small eyeshadow palette, some face powder and mascara. A full face worth of makeup moved from the palms of her hands into his own, accepting them with a nod of his head and the sniffle of someone trying to hold back tears.

“Are you sure?” he asked. A question with multiple meanings. All of which Joyce seems to pick up on. She pulled him into a tight hug. A warmth encompassed him all around that made him feel so overcome and just… good. Joyful and free like a painful growth was painlessly removed along with the truth’s reveal.

“Yes. I’m sure Billy. It’s okay.” An answer with multiple meanings.

They both exit the small closet, it felt like a metaphor for something. He headed up to the counter to buy his items, and Joyce began scanning his things when she got another smile on her face.

“Special occasion tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah. I got a hot date.” Not a lie.

She laughed a little before she punched the keys on the register.

“Anything else I can get for you Billy?”

Billy smiled.

“A pack of Reds.”

- : -

When Billy pulled into the driveway of Steve’s house he barged right in through the front door. He held the paper bag close to his chest and he shouted an “I have arrived!” that echoed up the stairs and all the way up to Steve’s room. Billy could hear the springs of Steve’s bed before he got up and rushed down the stairs to greet him with a little peck on the lips, immediately taking the bag from Billy’s hands to begin the formal review of his selections.

Steve set the bag onto the coffee table and began to sift through all of the things Billy bought. He tossed the cigarette pack at Billy with aggressive force before going right back into the bag.

The real surprise laid close to the bottom of the bag, hidden beneath the Twinkies and the popcorn and all the other junk food that had Steve beaming. Food was truly the easiest way to Steve’s heart.

Billy stood there tapping his foot and grabbing at his hands behind his back as he waited for Steve to see all the other things he got, to give him that little reaction he always knew would be positive, no matter the voices in his head that told him otherwise.

He seemed to have reached the bottom of the bag when he stalled. He just stared into the bottom of the brown paper bag, the table already covered in scattered candy and snacks, the only things left in the bag were the gifts from Joyce.

“Please tell me you’re going to put this on tonight.” Steve finally turned to look at him with an absolute ridiculous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider than they were right then. He seemed so fucking excited and it all radiated straight into Billy, and all he could do was walk up to him and kiss him. Billy pulled Steve’s face with both hands and practically consumed him like he was one of those Hostess desserts. Two untameable smiles pressed up against each other.

Billy reached for the tube of lipstick out of the bag and held it in between the two of them, he asked, “Are you going to help me put it on?”

Billy was wrong. Steve’s smile could get wider. Steve took Billy by the hand and sat him down on the couch, taking the bag with him as he straddled Billy’s lap.

“You know what you’re doing pretty boy?” Billy asked. He pushed Steve’s hair behind his ears as he looked up at him in awe. He relished in Steve’s excitement that was perfectly matching his own. It was all he could ever ask for.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve seen Nancy do it enough times.” Billy rolls his eyes at the mention of her name. Steve poked him in the face, causing Billy's face to scrunch. “Oh get over it Billy, I am.”

Billy was already shaking with anticipation and just wanted to get on with it without the mention of Steve’s former girlfriend. “Just shut up. Make me the prettier one.”

“Oh you already are, gorgeous.”

Steve twisted open the lipstick and carefully held Billy’s chin up so he was looking directly at him. With a steady hand and a soft touch, the smooth cream brushed against his lips and coated them to perfection. No overdrawn lines or transferring to his teeth, the color suited him so well, just a soft pink just slightly darker and more vibrant than the color of his own. It made his lips look bolder and fuller than they already were.

“Now look straight forward for me,” Steve said before he reached into the bag for another piece of product. “–and raise your eyebrows.” Steve twisted and pulled the wand from the metallic gold tube, the black bristles looked like spider legs. “Okay, hold still.”

“I swear to God Steve, if you poke me in the fucking eye–”

“Have some faith in me, damn!”

Fortunately for both Billy and Steve, none of the black goopy liquid found its way into Billy’s eyes. There was only a minor sting that, with time, he could easily see himself get used to. The sensation was followed by the feeling of soft bristles going in circles around his cheeks. Steve had asked him to smile for the application, but that wasn’t the reason he was doing it. The look of focus in Steve’s eyes along with the slight exposure of the tip of his tongue through his mostly sealed lips had sent Billy reeling.

Steve leaned back to get a complete view of his work. “Wow, I’m good.”

“Okay, hot shot,” Billy said with a nudge to his shoulder, “show me then.”

In a moment of surprising strength, Steve hoisted Billy up and over his shoulder by the grab of his ass. Billy’s stomach had come to rest right on the point of Steve’s shoulder, which sent him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His voice fluctuated and bounced with each step Steve took down the hall toward the bathroom. Billy clung to Steve’s shirt, hiking it up past the midpoint of his as he did so.

“Oh my god! Put me down!” he laughed.

Billy’s legs flailed, with the result of a knocked over a lamp and a bruised ankle from the abrupt contact with the doorframe.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Steve sat Billy on the edge of the sink, his face still faced away from the mirror. They were still coming down from their laughter when Billy, seemingly having forgotten about the makeover that he had just been given not even a full minute ago, leant down in an attempt to lay one right onto Steve.

“Hey, don’t ruin it before you even see it!” Steve pushed him back away from him and then helped him down from the sink and with a comforting grip of Billy’s biceps, he turned him around. “See? it looks so good on you!” Steve stood behind Billy with his hands trailing down to his waist, head over his shoulder, looking at him like he was his brilliant creation. Steve Harrington’s masterpiece, his most prized possession. “Wait right here, I got you something.”

Left alone in the bathroom, Billy was able to just let himself stare. Let himself lean in close to the mirror, his nose nearly touched the glass as he studied the tint to his lips, the definition to his lashes, the slight pink to his cheeks... It was the first time he ever looked at himself, like really looked at himself, and saw someone pretty. He truly believed it this time.

Steve came back with a bag of his own. It was a small bag with a French name on the side of it Black, and elegant, and Billy already had an idea of what’s inside. The day just kept on getting better. Billy tore the tissue out of the bag, and pulled the pieces of fabric out. It was a dust rose garter belt with stockings, panties, and a bralette, a perfect match for his lips. The lace was so sheer and the baroque floral patterns were so elegant he wanted nothing more than to just put it on right there. Strip himself down to the bare essentials and allow the openwork to protect him.

“You think you wanna give me a fashion show?” Steve asked, pulling the sleeves of Billy’s jacket down over his shoulders. Billy smiled and pushed Steve gently out the bathroom door and shut it right in his face.

He wasted no time putting it on. The way the fabric sat on his hips and his chest felt almost like it was tailored specifically to him. Enough room in the crotch area while also perfectly hugging his hips. The stockings squeezing his thighs just the perfect amount. There was no uncomfortable overhang in the bralette. He had never felt more comfortable wearing anything before. The pink on tan skin, the emphasis on every curve of his. He felt so soft and pretty and almost totally complete. He was just missing one thing.

Billy strutted out of the bathroom with a genuine conviction he’d never had before. There was no fear this time, no tears. Just pure elation at the prospect of Steve seeing him like this. Loving the way he looks in lingerie and makeup. Loving him for who he is and thinking he’s still hot. Still sexy and attractive.

“Holy shit you look fucking amazing baby.” Steve slowly walked toward him. He took in the whole view, committing the entire sight to memory because it was absolutely glorious. “I hope you aren’t mad,” he began, his hands finding Billy’s hips. “but I had my Mom pick it up while she was in Paris. I found out they make men’s lingerie there and I wanted you to have something special. She doesn’t know who it was for, but she knows I’m dating a guy now.”

They had never really discussed the topic of coming out. It felt like something that didn’t need to be said. Telling people was something so far off the radar of possibility that Billy felt a creeping sensation of absolute dread before he was finally able to open up his mouth to speak.

“And she was okay with it?”

Steve smiled and bowed his head just slightly. “Surprisingly, yeah. She was the one who wanted to pick something up for you. So I jumped on the chance.”

“Does your Dad know?” Steve laughed and shook his head.

“God I hope not. His brain would probably explode.” Billy pulled Steve in by the hold of his cheeks, and let their foreheads touch while they stared deep into each other’s eyes. Steve’s hands traced up and down the curves of Billy’s body, fingers dragged against the lace and their smiles were uncontrollable. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“Hey,” Billy’s voice was soft, “I’m happy for you.” Steve's sigh of relief was hot against Billy’s mouth. “And thank you, for this.” he said before the distance between them was finally closed and lips were pressed to lips, pink color smeared all over each other’s faces.

The only thing better than wearing that lipstick was having Steve ruin it.

next part

[aliceslantern]

Grow, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Suddenly human and abandoned in the Keyblade Graveyard, Demyx struggles to survive and come to terms with what his life is. Only by chance is he saved from exposure, and brought to Radiant Garden to recover. Unsure of who he is and where to even begin, Demyx finds a kindred spirit in Ienzo, and before long finds perhaps he isn't the only one lost in this new life. But how can they move forward with so much holding them back?

Roughly canonverse, Zemyx, hurt/comfort. Started for Zemyx day (9/6). Updates Wednesdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Newly recovered, Demyx tries to figure out what he wants from this life.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Demyx was getting used to being prodded by Even. He checked on him at least once a day. The more time passed, the more often Demyx looked forward to it, because at least he was someone to talk to. As long as he was tethered, he couldn’t really go anywhere by himself.

“Admittedly I know little about ophthalmology,” Even said, staring deep into his eyes with the same penlight. “These should help. I had Ansem print them for me.” He handed Demyx a pair of glasses.

“...Ansem?”

“Oh--right. I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.” His lip curled. “The former king of Radiant Garden. This is his castle.” His tone was bitter.

Demyx only knew a little about the story of the apprentices from his time in the Organization, and that he suspected was embellished. “So is he, like, your boss?”

“No,” Even said shortly. “He was our mentor--in the past, anyway. Now we work together.”

“With Kairi.”

“Yes. Try those, will you? I have to get back down there soon.”

Demyx put them on. After days of blurriness, to have clarity back was odd. “Whoa. HD.”

“I had to hazard a guess at the strength.”

“No, they’re fine.” He blinked.

“Well, that just means the poor vision has nothing to do with what you went through.” He shook his head. “One less thing to worry about.”

“You must be busy.”

“Idle hands make the devil’s work,” Even said absently. Then, “well… I suppose busy hands do too.”

“What do you guys do down there?” He swung his legs back and forth a little.

“You know of the princesses of heart, yes? Kairi’s one of them. We’re hoping given her connection to Sora, and the special properties of a heart of light, we might be able to find answers as to where that boy is. If he is.” A pause, then, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, it’s not like you understand.”

Demyx shrugged, trying to hide how he was stung.

“Regardless, it is a concrete goal to work towards… and for that I’m thankful.”

He turned away. With his newly sharpened vision, Demyx could see more acutely the lines around his eyes, the gray mixed into his blond hair. He looked exhausted. “Thanks, Ev,” he said. “Do you know how much longer I’m gonna need this?” Gesturing to the port in his hand.

“Even,” he corrected, then sighed. “I suppose you have a point… your last labs were the best yet. If you’re up and about you can take care of yourself.”

“Yeah. Plus I’m kind of going insane sitting here for so long.” He offered a hesitant smile.

Even considered. He went over to the sink, washed his hands, put on gloves, and grabbed some gauze. “I’m afraid this may hurt,” he said.

Demyx had thought it was just a needle, but it was more of a thin tube inside of his vein due to how long they’d thought he’d have it. Removing it did hurt a lot, and he swore out loud. But once it was gone… despite his throbbing hand… he felt so much lighter. “Can I walk around?” he asked. “Can I do stuff?”

“So long as you are careful. ”

“Thank you!” He leapt to his feet and pulled Even into a hug; he jerked as though he’d been shocked.

“Please do not touch me,” he hissed in a completely different tone. There was something dark and closed off in his eyes, more than his typical sharpness.

“I’m sorry--I’m just so glad.”

“Yes. Quite. Well.” He left without so much of a backwards glance.

Demyx bit his lip. He hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a hug, right? He’d apologize again later when Even checked on him.

It was time to get out of this room. Apparently this place served as a sort of infirmary for the castle, though nobody else had had to come down here. It had its own bathroom, so Demyx hadn’t even needed to cross its threshold. Leaving felt odd, but it wasn’t like he was in prison.

The hallways down here were dark, without windows, sconces providing the only light. The carpeting was thick, heavy, and needed a good clean; it squished uncomfortably under his slippers. He wandered for a while, mentally taking stock every now and again so he would be able to find his way back. The layout was weird, putting it lightly, and he could see places where the castle had been renovated, or added on-to, architecture and design clashing oddly. Apparently the apprentices had all lived here in the heyday--they must live here now. It wasn’t like Demyx was a stranger to living in castles, but this one felt so much more real and old than the one in the World that Never Was. He ran his fingers along the crown moulding, touched the lamps when he saw them. This place must’ve once been nice, but it was dirty, and in a state of relative disrepair.

Would this be his home now?

The thought was jarring, and he stopped in his tracks. Pushed the glasses up his nose. The better he physically got, the more apparent it was that he had nowhere to go and nobody. No friends, no family. Hadn’t Lea and Isa just extended that invitation to be nice? Did they really mean what they said?

A weepiness came over him, and he bit it back. He felt like he’d been buffering for so long, going here nor there in his life? What did he want? Who was he really? The more he thought about it, the less Demyx felt like the self he’d been as little as two weeks ago. Was he changing? Becoming “different”?

All these thoughts were giving him anxiety.

He wandered for a little while longer, coming across a section that seemed a bit cleaner than the others. There was wood flooring here, not carpeting, and Demyx could see some old windows in the walls. A few swatches of paint were here and there. He saw a few doors here and there and tried one on impulse; it was open. He could just barely see bedroom furniture, a small rose bush in a pot by a window--

“What are you doing snooping around?”

The voice startled him; he yelped and clutched at his chest, the new glasses falling to the floor. Demyx scrambled to pick them up. Slowly, he turned and saw Dilan, Xaldin’s Somebody, in a blue uniform. Frowning. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t know… I’m guessing this is your room, then?”

“...Quite,” he said gruffly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go barging into spaces you haven’t been invited to.”

“Of course. Yeah.”

There was a pause. His hair was neater than Xaldin’s, Demyx realized, and was his skin a bit darker.

“I didn’t know you guys lived here,” Demyx continued. “I was just… taking a look around.”

“You’re up on your feet, then?”

“Well. Obviously.” He cleared his throat a little. “I haven’t been able to leave that room for like a week.” A wry laugh.

“Ienzo told me what happened.” Dilan shook his head. “What a cruel thing to do.”

Demyx shrugged. He and Xaldin hadn’t had the best rapport in the Organization days, and he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re well, though?” he asked.

“...Getting there. I think.” He rubbed at his sore arm.

“Do you… know what you’re to do next?”

“No,” he admitted slowly. “It’s been… hard.”

“Of that I am well aware.” He touched his chest.

“So… I’m gonna go,” Demyx said. “I won’t, uh, mess with your stuff.”

“Much appreciated.”

Demyx set off in the opposite direction. He was getting hungry now, his appetite only growing in the passing days. Usually someone brought along a meal to him, so he headed back. He found a sandwich and an apple on a plate on his bedside, and once this lunch was done with, he just… sat. Waiting. After a few minutes of this, he decided to take out Arpeggio to try and get his mind off of things. His fingers were a bit shaky, but within about fifteen minutes he was able to play with the same fluidity as before.

But it was… harder. Not physically. But as he picked through old compositions he felt the emptiness composed by his Nobody self, the sadness, the loneliness. At the same time, they felt like they’d been created by a stranger, despite the fact that he remembered writing them. A strange dissonance. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted, a heart to truly feel music with?

What did Demyx feel?

He tried to parse it out. Empty, again? Tired, sad? Overwhelmed?

Having a heart was supposed to be easy.

He let Arpeggio fade and curled up. A cool breeze came in through the cracked window. He stared out at the little bit of town he could see, feeling on the verge, the breath of remembering--

“I thought I heard you playing. How do you feel?”

Demyx’s head snapped up. He saw not Even, but Ienzo, in that white-coat getup. He was carrying a small bundle. “Um, alright,” he said, blinking yet more tears out of his eyes. “Where’s Even?”

“He and Ansem are trying to solve a problem with one of our simulations.” He cocked his head a little. “I do know enough about medicine.”

“I know, I just…” He swallowed, and considered telling Ienzo. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“I brought you some more clothes, too. And this.” He held up a gummiphone. “You might find a use for it--if you don’t break this one.”

Demyx took it from him. “Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t have to--”

“The castle is large. It makes it easier to keep in touch if we all have one--heaven forbid something happen to you.” His tone was dismissive.

Ienzo came over to him, went through the familiar motions of taking his vitals. He listened to Demyx’s heart. It was strange to be so close to him, and a little uncomfortable in a way Demyx couldn’t define. His eyes were a bit greener than Demyx remembered, and his eyebrows furrowed together just slightly. Demyx could hear him breathe. “Your heart rate’s a little high,” he said. “Are you nervous?”

He cleared his throat. “No. Ah. Just a little anxious, I guess.” He felt the blood rush to his face, trying to place that feeling.

“Why?”

“I just don’t know what to do now,” Demyx admitted.

Ienzo took the stethoscope out of his ears. “That is the question, isn’t it,” he said slowly. “After so long of having little to no choice, suddenly the world is open in front of us. Like having the rug yanked from under you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It really is. But don’t you… have your work, and stuff?”

Ienzo set the object aside. “I do,” he said. His eyes flicked up in thought. “But at the same time… I was with the Organization for considerably longer than you. Work… well, it’s something concrete to work towards.”

“Even said the same thing.”

His expression darkened a little. “We all seek to be better people. To… make up for the hell we’ve wrought. Working with the guardians of light… providing them with whatever they need to the best of our abilities... is the least we can do.”

Demyx picked at the lint on his pants. “I… thought about it, in the desert,” he admitted. In his newly-sharpened peripheral he saw Ienzo’s head snap up, his eyes widening. “If this wasn’t karma.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“But… you know…” He forced a laugh. “I’m here , right? If whatever forces exist in this world wanted me gone… I would be toast. Same for you. And Even and them. We literally came back from the dead.”

“A second chance,” Ienzo murmured. “Quite.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “But that doesn’t help tell me what to do. Or how to feel about any of it.” The blood rushed to his face. “And I’m sure you’re too busy to listen to this.”

“No,” Ienzo said. He sat down next to Demyx on the bed. He was shorter than Demyx remembered. More weird reformation? “This is the first bearable conversation I’ve had in a while.”

He snorted. “Really?”

Ienzo sighed heavily. “A lot happened that I don’t particularly care to get into at the moment. But things between us are… a bit tense.”

“...Oh.” Ienzo’s smile was small and sad. Demyx couldn’t actually remember if he’d ever seen him do it, and before he could stop himself he said, “you have a nice smile. I’ve never seen it.”

The blood rushed to Ienzo’s face.

“I’m sorry, was that weird to say?”

“No, ah.” He pulled at his collar a little. “No.” He knotted his hands in his lap. “I know in the past our rapport has been… rocky.”

Demyx bit his lip and thought back. For a long while, he and Zexion had both been part of the reconnaissance team, but whenever they’d been paired together, it hadn’t exactly ended well. Their personalities clashed like oil and water; Demyx’s carefree attitude and low ambition combined with Zexion’s perfectionism always ended in fights. “You could say that again.”

He chuckled a little; strangely, it had no sound. “Perhaps it would do to start over,” he said. He offered his hand. “I’m Ienzo.”

“Demyx. Nice to meet you.”

He pretended not to notice the tingle he felt when they shook.

[saintheartwing]

Starlight and Sans

This is one of my more popular stories, and it helped to set up a BIG collaboration between a friend of mine and I. Enjoy!

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The sun shone softly upon Cloudsdale as a faintly purplish-furred Unicorn laid in wait, sitting on a cloud, nonchalantly looking over a watch she had magic'd up. Her hair was a deep purple with bangs at the front and a blue streak flittering through it, and odd, wispy tattoo on her flank. This "cutie mark" was a symbol of her unique abilities of magic, and indeed, Starlight Glimmer was INCREDIBLY powerful and INCREDIBLY skilled when it came to magic. So skilled that she'd been able to improve on a time travel spell that only the greatest magician in all history had been able to craft.

Star Swirl the Bearded's magical spell had been a thing of incredible power. Designed only as kind of last resort. But Starlight Glimmer had decided to use it for a selfish, selfish reason. To keep Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, from ever meeting her friends. How? Going to Cloudsdale, home of Rainbow Dash, and keeping her from accomplishing her "Sonic Rainboom". A breaking of the sound barrier that acted as a catalyst, which helped kick off all of her friend's special talents. Dash had gotten her cutie mark from winning a race as a child, Fluttershy, her fellow Pegasi, had then learned of her love of animals, Rarity had discovered her love of creating beautiful things, it all was connected. All of it went back to that Rainboom.

And so Starlight wanted to stop it. Because if the "Mane Six", as they were commonly called, had never gotten their cutie marks, they never would have interfered with her town of Equality, a place where nobody had nor needed cutie marks. At least, that was how she viewed it. She viewed what she'd done as making sure everyone was equal and on the exact same level, that nobody was lesser or greater than anyone. But in reality, she had pretty much forced that on the inhabitants. She'd never given them a chance to find out if they were GOOD at anything, and that had been wrong.

Not that she could see that. All she could feel was that she was in the right. And she didn't care how many times Twilight Sparkle tried to stop her, or how many times her stupid-

Wait a minute. Starlight Glimmer's eyes narrowed intensely as a figure calmly popped out of a shimmering, aquamarine portal before her, landing on the fluffy cloud ground some distance away as he glanced about. "welp." He remarked, holding a hand up to his forehead, squinting a bit. "so THAT'S what the sun looks like." He muttered, then peering over and looking down, down at the land of Equestria below. "now I know why they tell you "don't look down". didn't USE to be afraid of heights." He wryly remarked, his voice low and slightly sarcastic as he chuckled a bit, shaking his bony head.

Bony...head. A bony head, bony hands, a living skeleton that was distinctly NOT ponylike. It had a gaping nose slit, a big grinning smile, a rather tubby and short form with a blue jacket and blue slippers on his feet. He chuckled as he looked Starlight Glimmer over, pulling out what appeared to be some kind of food. "so! want a 'dog?"

"...a...whuh...?" Starlight Glimmer mumbled in confusion as she looked this...this STRANGE, STRANGE being over, glancing about as others who were in Cloudsdale glanced in his direction as well before wisely inching far, far away. "What's that?"

"an apostrophe dog. a hot dog. c'mon." He said, tossing it to her as she caught it, blinking before staring down at it.

"This is no "dog", it's a member of the species "Typha"! A group of wetland flowering plants with brown, oblong seedpods. Better known as a "water sausage"." She remarked. "...still, I DO like water sausages." She admitted, popping it into her mouth and chewing, enjoying the delightful, tangy, yet robust flavor as the skeleton shrugged and closed his eyes, grin widening some more.

"well, I'm a considerate guy. you sure have been busy, huh? so can I ask you a little question? if you don't mind."

Starlight munched on the "hot dog" some more before swallowing it down, looking the skeleton over. "...what kind of question?" She asked. "I mean, who are you anyhow?"

"the name's Sans. sans the skeleton. so I wanted to ask you this." Sans took in a deep breath. "do ya think anybody can be good, if they just TRY?"

"Huh?" Starlight muttered, scratching her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"you...are a dirty little hacker of time and space. you've been messing with things you ain't s'posed to. so I'll ask again. do you think anybody can be a good person?"

Starlight suddenly realized the skeleton's tone had shifted. It was now lower...darker. Colder.

Crueler.

"Are you trying to threaten me?" She asked, her eyes turning to dark slits as she stood up, her horn glittering with shimmering aquamarine light as she shook her head back and forth. "I don't have much patience for fools."

"lemme answer your question with another." Sans said as his closed eyes shot wide open, revealing nothing but dark, empty abysses for sockets, an empty expanse that stretched on and on, as if looking into her very soul. Or rather, what he viewed as a lack thereof. "DO YOU WANNA HAVE A BAD TIME?" He intoned, his voice like crawling maggots on her back as she shuddered.

"What's this all about?" She growled. "Why are you interfering with me?!" She demanded to know.

Sans snapped his fingers. Suddenly all of time and space went dark, as if the light of the universe itself had been put out, and she saw something hovering right in front of her chest. It was, unmistakably, a heart. A heart the color of light blue...which was soon turned into dark blue as she felt herself lifted up not by her own power, but the power of Sans. His left eye glittered with an almost unnatural blue glow, burning like a fire as she was dragged through the air, into the portal behind him...

As she found herself in what was nothing but an endless abyss of dusty ground. Tumbleweeds rolled by, the skies red and brown and ugly as the Earth upon which they stood, a foul wind that smelled like rotting corpses stinging her nostrils as Sans snapped his bony fingers again and she flopped to the ground, Sans gesturing about her.

"THIS. is what will happen to Equestria if I let you go on with your little revenge. this is what happens cuz you try to fiddle with my friends. in a few weeks after Twilight gives her speech to those students, they were supposed to finally meet me and my buddies. our two worlds would have moved forward into a bright new future. but that could only happen if Twilight was still Princess, if Pinkie was still her crazy yet lovable self." Sans remarked, looking off to the side. "...but all of that faded away. my buddies couldn't even remember them. but I'm used to time travel. my memories, they...they stick. so I could hitch a ride on your spell...and I could try and talk some sense into you."

"You expect me to buy that?!" Starlight Glimmer snapped, now hovering in the air on her OWN accord, her body glowing with light blue light as she aimed her horn squarely at Sans. "You expect me to buy that those stupid ponies are just soooooo important to the world that if they don't get their cutie marks, everything and everyone dies?! You expect me to BELIEVE that?"

"ain't just about the little tattoos you got on ya. its called the "butterfly effect"." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "the tiniest change in one place can cause a monsoon of change elsewhere. if just the right string gets pulled on a blanket, the whole thing can fall apart."

"Don't you lie to me!" Starlight Glimmer roared out, firing off a pulsating beam at Sans as he nonchalantly stepped to the side, wagging a disapproving finger at her.

"ah-ah-ah. ya think I'm just gonna stand here and let you hit me?" Sans remarked, Starlight firing off another beam at him as he calmly stepped to the side again and again. He ducked and dipped, easily sliding left and right, avoiding her assault.

"That is IT!" She roared out, as twin beams of light coalesced around her horn and Sans sighed.

"welp. guess I gotta bring out the big guns." he intoned, snapping his fingers. And just as Starlight aimed her horn and fired at him...

An instant nightmare struck. A horrible, gastly, bony face that faintly resembled some kind of mandibled beast popped up in midair right in front of Sans. It opened its mouth wide as a beam of pure, horrible, light blue energy pulsated forth like a burning star, and Starlight's attack was nothing before its fury. Her own twin beams of light dissolved in the swatch of horrific skeleton power that bathed over her, and it felt like she was struck by a freight train as she was sent spiralling through the air, skidding across the ground as Sans approached her, hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes soulless and cold.

"turn around kid. it'd be a crime. if I had to go to far and step over that line. so unless you wanna have a bad time-"

"If you're going to INSULT me, don't you do it in rhyme!" Starlight groaned out, smoke wafting off her body as she struggled to get to her feet, panting and heaving as she shook her head back and forth, burn marks all over her.

"you're no fun." Sans said, pouting a bit as he flexed his arms, Starlight seeing the heart manifest before her. "that right there? that's your SOUL. the cultivation of your being. and let me be the first to tell you this. YOU'RE BONED." he remarked, Starlight being bounced up and down and all around as Sans swept his arms about, tossing her like a rag doll.

"OW-OW-OW-OW! You expect me to buy that six stupid pony's friendships are so important that the world will fall apart without them?! How egocent-OWOWOWOWWOWOW!" Her monologue got stopped in mid-sentence as he bounced her about like a basketball before finally letting her flop to the ground, Starlight shooting back up as her eyes glowered darkly. "The ego on you and your friends is amazing!"

"it ain't ego to speak the truth. sometimes people ARE just that important. sometimes all it takes is one person to change everything." Sans said.

"PROVE it." Starlight demanded, rushing forward at him, a swirling, glimmering dark barrier around her as Sans sighed, eyes closed before he suddenly popped right behind her, and a portal opened up, Starlight falling through, down, down, down into a dark abyss before...

FWOP. She landed in a large pile of snow, shuddering as she wrapped her arms around herself, Sans carefullly taking off his jacket as he approached from behind, putting it around her as he pointed. "look there." He said, pointing at a figure who was sitting on a tree stump, surrounded by icy trees on all sides as an odd, bird-like, almost draconic figure with a faintly snowflake-esque head cleared its throat, holding a light blue wing up to its face.

"Ah-hem. What is my favorite Queen song? IIIIICLE! IIIIICLE! Icicle, icicle, icicle, iciclllle-RACE!" He proclaimed, the brown-haired young lad in a blue and red-striped long sleeve shirt laughing at this, covering their face with their hands. "Wow! Real laughs! Dad was wrong!"

"Who's...that?" Starlight Glimmer wanted to know as Sans sat down next to her.

"his name's Frisk, and he's a human. he ended up in the Underground, my home. the land of Monsters ain't really friendly to humans cuz their race trapped us down here eons ago. we'd been trying to get seven human souls to break the magical barrier that keeps us here, but instead of taking his, we found out something. we...we really liked him."

Sans escorted her through the forest as Frisk then looked over at a cube of ice, patting it on its "head". "Aw, c'mon. Cheer up!"

"...I can't. My hat is gone."

"You don't need clothing to define you. You can just be you."

"...you...you think so?" The ice cube quietly asked, Frisk nodding in agreement. "You know what? You're right! I'd rather be a HATER than a HATTER"! The Ice Cube proclaimed.

"one by one, he made friends with every monster he came across. he found a way to connect." Sans said as he put a bony hand on Starlight's shoulder, and she found herself whisked away to a large, lava-filled cavernous space, an ice cream man with blue fur selling the last of his stock to armored guards as Frisk cheerily smiled at the two.

"You two having fun?"

"Thanks for finally helping me to open up about my feelings." The rabbit guard remarked, nodding back at Frisk. "You're right, it's much better to be honest."

"...thanks." The second one said, as the two began to take their helmets off, Frisk heading up some nearby stairs as Sans and Starlight followed, Frisk handing over some gold to a cat and a crocodile in an alleway.

"Oh, WOW, you're actually willing to buy this garbage?" The cat-like monster asked, nervously blushing as Frisk looked over the cowboy hat, putting it on his head.

"Oh, I dunno, I think it looks good!"

"No, really, it's garbage. We got it at the dump. I mean, I even found this gun in a dumpster." The crocodile woman remarked, Frisk shrugging.

"It looks fine to me. And you guys need this more than I do."

"Ohhh, you are, like, so totally sweeeet! Isn't he, Bratty?"

"Oh, definitely, Catty. You are like, SOOOO nice."

"the kid had a quality about him that drew us all together. he was just so nice and kind, and he didn't ever give up on anyone." Sans said as he wistfully sighed. "we all grew to love him. and its because of him that we got out of the barrier. his friendship with another soul allowed the barrier to come down because he united all of us. sometimes that really is all it takes. just one really good, caring friend to change everything."

Starlight felt his shoulder again, and suddenly, everyone was together on the surface, all standing by Frisk as he rested his head on a large, goat-lady's shoulder.

"I could look at this for hours too." He said, Starlight glancing all about at the many, many monsters that were gazing with awe at the sunrise that stretched out before the valley she now stood high over with Sans.

"All because of this one human?" She asked Sans.

"yeeeep." Sans said with a smile, Starlight hanging her head as he took her shoulder again, and this time, she was back in Cloudsdale, sitting on a cloud with him as they looked over at a racing little Pegasus with rainbow hair. "so, you wanna talk?"

"...I lost my only friend when his parents took him away to Canterlot. All because he was so talented. All because of his cutie mark. I'd never learned how to make any other friends because I spent all my childhood with just him, and I thought it'd be us together. That we'd get our marks at the same time. I had to struggle and scrape just to get my mark, and everyone else seemed to get their talents found so easily, and..." She hung her head. "...it didn't seem fair. If there wasn't some magical mark that made everything easy for you..."

"it ain't always fair. but it ain't always unfair. you just do the best ya can with what ya got. but c'mon. you look down, and I think ol' Uncle Sans can cheer you up."

"How?"

Another pat on the shoulder, and suddenly, she was right in front of a brown-haired Asian American who had his arms stretched out as a goat-like, VERY nicely-smelling child stood nearby, the Asian kid grinning in delight.

"I'm gonna hug the HELL outta you." Frisk announced, Asriel calmly approaching with his own wide arms as Sans grinned.

He had a good feeling about this.