#but I figured like.... they could also... have paint in em. seems silly not to frankly if there's pans in there either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[blujayonthewing]

it really is a thing of beauty; I'm so glad I already had enough paint to fill it

[strabbyshortcake]

the truth about snaktooth

Gramble finally tells his partners what befell him and everybody else on the island.

“Whatcha doin’, Gram?”

The screen door clatters as it shuts behind Boots. It’s a nice summer night, one of the rare ones they got with little humidity, so Gramble had left the main door open, the sound of katydids and crickets drifting through from the outdoors. He looks up from the hand towel in his paws, shoulders hunched guiltily.

There’s a large cardboard box sitting on the floor, full of bits of kitchen décor. Ceramic plates with fruit stenciled on them, prints of vintage ads for bread and desserts, towels with produce embroidered on them. All the kitschy things Boots knew he liked decorating his spaces with, and Gramble spent more time in the kitchen than either her or Piesha, with how much he enjoyed cooking.

“Oh, evenin’ Boots,” he greets her, expression softening into a smile. “You remember we talked about Lizbert and Egg visitin?”

“Yeah…?” She pads over, frowning a little at the bare spots on the walls and shelves. Boots was acquainted with the two from attending expedition reunions with Gramble, and while she made it no mystery that she disliked Lizbert’s invasive style of exploration, it was all in the past. Liz had retired from that life after the whole Snaktooth stunt to become a museum curator. “What’s the matter, they allergic to tackiness?”

Gramble laughs at her affectionate teasing. “No, well… Actually, funny you should say that. Egg’s fine, but Liz has got… I guess you could say she’s got kind of a hang-up over food imagery. And while she’s doin’ well these days, might just make her a lil’ more comfortable to not feel so surrounded, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you.” Boots nods, reaching up to take the clock off the wall. It’s a piece of painted wood in the shape of a strawberry. Nollie had made it in an art class. “Place is a little dusty, anyway.”

Together he and Boots work to mostly strip the place of any food-related decoration, leaving only a couple little accents up so the place didn’t seem too bare. Gramble sighs at the empty walls, leaning into Boots’ touch as she places a paw on his shoulder.

She and Pie had always been so understanding when he told them he couldn’t talk about what had happened on the island, but he hated to keep his loved ones in the dark. Not simply for the fact that there might still be danger lurking out there, but that he knew he could trust them, and yet, just telling them what had happened was almost as terrifying as the thought of being back there. The idea that just speaking of it would somehow make it manifest, bring it back into his life when he’d worked so hard to escape it, haunted him, but so did keeping it bottled up inside.

“…I need to tell you both what really happened,” he says quietly. “It’s been long enough. Just, after Liz and Egg are gone. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Boots blinks down at him in surprise. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

--

The visit went well. This was the first time Lizbert and Eggabell had seen the new house and the refurbished barn, the first they’d met Cardi and Dember, and Nollie had only been a year old when they’d last come around. They’d caught up, shared stories, enjoyed Gramble’s cooking and chatted about where their lives were going and where they’d been.

After they’d waved goodbye, gotten in Eggabell’s car and driven off to see Wambus and Triffany, after the dishes had been cleared and cleaned and the kids were all in bed, Gramble sat Boots and Piesha down on the porch swing in the back while he took the rocking chair.

“I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his paws where they rested on his chest. “about what happened on Snaktooth.”

“Alright.” Pie nods slowly, leaning into Boots’ cushy side. Boots gives him an encouraging smile, rocking the swing back and forth slightly with her heel.

Gramble swallows, licking his lips. “So… Not all of what I told you was a cover-up. We did run outta food and I did almost starve to death. But… Geez, I dunno where to even start.”

“Why’d you go in the first place?” Boots asks.

“Oh, that I didn’t lie about either. My mama really did up and leave while I was at college. I went cuz… Cuz I guess I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I saw Liz on TV say she was gatherin’ people up for her team and I just… I wanted somewhere to go that wasn’t home.”

She nods solemnly, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, Snaktooth… Liz said she found somethin’ there. These creatures she was documenting. D’you… Have either of you ever heard of bugsnax?” Gramble nearly whispers the last word, even though it’s just the three of them out here, just the three of them and the crickets and fireflies, the kids sound asleep.

Piesha tilts her head, thoughtful. “Mm… Maybe a long time ago,” Pie says. “One of those things they got lots of fairy tales about. Critters made of food, right?”

“Right.” Gramble nods. “But they’re real. And please- I know how it sounds,” he stammers, even though neither of them looked skeptical. “But I swear. I saw them, I picked them up and held them, I had a whole barn full of them that Liz and Buddy caught for me. I had names for them, and… and everybody said they were the most delicious things they’d ever eaten. B-but there’s a reason for that. Sorry, lemme go back a bit and explain.

“When we got there, we thought we’d be able to farm. That was Wambus’s thing, but no matter what he tried, the crops would wither, or the bugsnax would get in and destroy them. The only thing he could grow was the sauce that grew on the island, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on. Pretty soon we ran outta food, but that wasn’t a problem for most folks. They’d just eat the bugsnax.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t?” Boots asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t want to. I already didn’t eat meat, and the snax were always so cute and friendly and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurtin’ them. So I just… didn’t. I tried to live off the sauce, and I ate dandelions and weeds, I ate damn near anything that was edible, but it was never enough.”

“That’s awful, Gram.” Boots says, her brows knitted. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Well, I… I thought about it,” Gramble wraps his arms around himself. “Even though I didn’t have nowhere to return to, I figured it might be better than starving. But it wasn’t too long after that Lizbert up and disappeared. Her and Egg, there was an earthquake and after that they never came back to town. Some folks thought they died, others thought they ran off, but without her nobody was bringin’ in bugsnax to eat and they started to eat mine, so I ran off with the rest of ‘em and that made everybody mad and I really did start to think there was nobody who cared about me but the snax and Wiggle, and… and even she was eatin’ them too, but I let her cuz I didn’t have nobody else... I was so afraid she’d leave me too that I put up with it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “So, um… I guess a couple weeks after that, Buddy finally showed up. We’d been on the island almost a year at that point. They wanted to interview Liz, figure out what happened, and they managed to get all of us back into town within a week or two. I was really doin’ poorly though.” His claws absently scratch at his belly over the scar that the rake had left, concealed beneath his fur but never fully faded.  “Didn’t care much whether I lived or died. Nothin’ I tried worked, and one of the big snax I asked Buddy for nearly killed me. And then…”

Boots holds Pie’s paw between both of hers, stroking it, both of them patiently waiting for him to gather his racing thoughts. It had been so long since he’d even thought about all this, and much of the events were a haze of hunger and pain, he was amazed he could keep the basic timeline coherent.

“Then, one night… When we were all back in town, Filbo decided he wanted to throw a party. That was when everything… That’s when it all fell apart. There was an active volcano on the island, and it erupted. Eggabell suddenly showed up back in town and told us she knew where Liz was, and she and Buddy and Filbo ran off to get her while the rest of us tried to get to safety. B-but… You remember what I said before, about the bugsnax?” He lifts his gaze to the two of them.

Pie nods at him. “Yeah. They taste good, right?”

“They also…” Gramble holds his paws out, curling his fingers into fists. “They change you. Whenever you eat one, your body parts become it. I know it sounds silly, but everybody was walkin’ around with arms and legs made of strawberries and corn and cinnamon rolls and you kinda just… got used to it. I only ever ate one when I was sleepwalkin’, and I don’t even remember what it was like, but everybody else except Shelda ate ‘em all the time. You get used to it and then you start believin’ that they’re the only thing that can make you feel good anymore. Sorta like drugs, but sorta like… Wiggle used to say they inspired her, and Chandlo thought he could get stronger with them, it was whatever you wanted. I guess even I was fallin’ for it, thinkin’ they could replace my family, and I never even had to eat ‘em.

“But that’s the trick. You get dependent, but you don’t realize that… That they’re parasites. And I’m kinda fuzzy on the details, but according to Buddy, Liz was somehow stuck down in the main… meat of the hive,” Gramble brings his paws together, looking down at his intertwined fingers. “And that’s where she’d been all along, down in the darkness with all those food bugs crawlin’ all over her and into her mouth and… that’s why she’s got such a thing about food.”

“Ah…” He can’t blame Boots for looking a little numb, covering her mouth with her paw as Pie stares blankly at him. It was a lot to take in. “Yeah, I guess that’d do it.”

Gramble goes on. “They attacked us not long after Buddy and the others left, tryin’ to force themselves into our mouths, or kill us, either or. I guess they knew the jig was up, then and there. No comin’ back from that. But we all got away, in the end… And that’s what happened.”

He falls silent. The porch swing creaks slightly as Boots lets it come to a stop, letting the singing of the insects fill the air between them for a long moment.

“S’this place still out there…?” Piesha speaks up softly, glancing out into the darkness as if the snax might be watching from the trees.

“Far as I know,” Gramble says, slipping off the chair to walk over and take one of their paws in each of his. “But you gotta promise me you will never, ever go there.” His expression is grim as he peers up at them. “And you’ll never breathe a word to any of the kids about it, or to anybody else. Nobody should ever step foot on that awful place again.”  

“Gram,” Boots squeezes his paw in return, then leans over to scoop him up and pull him into her lap, the swing groaning in complaint as yet another grumpus is piled upon it. “…there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do-”

“No.” Gramble shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I- I don’t know. Maybe there is somethin’ that someone out there can do, but it can’t be any of us. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it ever again and if word gets out, it’s just gonna be more people goin’ there and that’s exactly what it wants. Please,” he tilts his head up at her, the porch light glimmering in his eyes. “Just leave it alone. It can’t get us here and I want it to stay that way. Promise me.”

When she hesitates, he repeats himself, teeth glinting as his lips peel back. “Promise me, please-”

“I promise.” Boots leans down to kiss him on the nose, wrapping her arm around him as the other draws Pie in closer. “I won’t tell nobody if that’s what you want.”

“That’s all that I want,” he murmurs into her fluffy chest, suddenly very tired despite the mental weight that had lifted. He’d spoken Snaktooth’s name aloud, finally uncorked what he’d kept bottled up for nearly two decades now. He should feel better-prepared, now that they were all on the same page, so why did he still feel like he was only summoning the beast? Perhaps he just needed to sleep, let this new information digest, and they’d face whatever came tomorrow together.

Hundreds of miles away, the island remembers them too.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

꧁Midnight Masquerade꧂

Description; A masquerade becomes the perfect time for a monster to stalk its prey. But what if the heroine knows the villan?

Pairing: Pietro x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot

Word count; 3.230

Warnings; Kinda entering the thriller genre, a bit of fluff (?)

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: So this is my little piece in @sdavid09 halloween's challenge and I had the prompts "Scooby Doo" and M.J's "Thriller". Though this isn't only an entry in the challenge, but also my way of introducing a new character I'm going to start writing for. I took a new and kinda differente approach with this fic, so this isn’t how I characteristically write and honestly I don't really now how it turned out. Maybe I'll do a part two or just leave it as this is, we'll see. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy this little work xx

MASTERLIST

Autumn. From where you came the season didn't bring much more than chilled temperatures that nipped at every part of your body, no matter how much or little clothes you wore for the time of year. The only thing differing it from the snowy winter though was the colours. Leaves painted in every colour between green and red, making the forest look as if it was on fire. The otherwise dull coloured buildings, speaking of an ill-favoured state, blended together with the third season of the year, as the smell of earth and heaviness of rain was present. 

Those scents reminded you of your home more than ever as you now walked through the mist coating the streets outside. Goosebumps spread across your body as the wind ruffled the leaves enough for them to fly. A curse left you as you hugged the coat closer around your body, damning the wind for penetrating your scant pieces of clothes for the season. As well as your friends, for the night stroll that you now needed to take.

"Miss, your costume is pretty", the tiny voice surprised you to a stop. As the masquerade mask covering your face also entered your outermost vision, you need to tilt your head downwards to find the owner of it. As soon as you did, you saw a little girl standing there, with illuminated wings and brightly coloured clothes. Her face was painted as well, but unlike yours which aimed to look somewhat regal, it accentuated the costume she was clad in.

"Oh, uhh thank you", you mumbled, unsure if the little girl heard you as another gust of wind fittingly blew by, although seemingly she did. With nothing but a giggle in return and a bright smile, she skipped away to catch up with her mother, who had stopped not far behind you as she noticed her daughter wasn't with her.

You followed the pair for a few seconds, unable to not notice a few dozen other people roaming the streets as well. It seemed that everyone below the age of fifteen was out and about in silly costumes, knocking on each door of the houses in the scary decorated neighbourhood.

The ghosts, mummies, fairies and other creatures and costumes were what reminded you that the outfit you felt was bothersome walking around in, looked unusually modest. Aside from the black lace mask covering your face, there wasn't much more which differed your outfit from any other party clothes.

You sighed, continuing forward to reach the new place your friends said they meet you at, while in the background hearing voices gleefully exclaiming trick or treat. Everything reminded you that here, autumn didn't only bring a change of season, but Halloween as well. You were not used to it, in fact, you had never experienced it until now.

"Hey Y/N!" Along with the call of your name, came the honking of a car and if you hadn't recognised the voice, the rapid sound would have helped you figure out that it was your friends.

"Oh stop it you pest!" You shouted back, laughter lacing your tone, at the man behind the wheel.

"Won't stop until you're in this car missy!" You openly laughed at the way Jake, from his position in the driver seat, leaned closer to the open window on the passenger side to holler at you.

"Can't you see I'm on my way", you answered, almost entering a jog to reach the car to stop his irritation of the whole neighbourhood.

Thanks to your hurried steps, you soon jumped in the backseat, though the person already sitting there didn't give you much time to close the door behind you before throwing themselves at you. Automatically you encircled them, naturally knowing who it was by their display.

"I see you went for the devil after all", you said, regarding the brunette opposite you as you parted. Noticing she matched her deep red glitter dress with devil horns, while a red mask covered her upper face.

"Seeing as we aren't going to the ordinary college party, I thought I could try a classic in a different style".

"Stop lying to yourself Lily, we all know you picked that dress because it made your butt look good", turning to meet you from the passenger seat was Emma, a short-haired blonde.

"And perhaps that's the second reason", Lily stated, though before any further comments could be made, you felt the jolt of the car as it jumped forward.

"Anyways, welcome to the Mystery Machine", Jake said excitedly, though you couldn't miss the blonde rolling her eyes at her boyfriend's comment.

"He's waited to say that since we began heading here", you chuckled at the way she said it, an act that only grew when she swatted his shoulder after a smart comment he made.

"Hey, hey! Don't hit the driver, right Y/N?" You glanced up to meet Jake's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I want to arrive at our destination and survive, so perhaps don't hit the driver, which for further information, also is your boyfriend Em".

"If anything that gives me the right to", she said sarcastically, which made him make a pouty face and lean in to kiss her. With a giggle, one that made you smile at their exchange, she pushed his head away while saying eyes on the road.

Although the ride was anything but short, your company and their storytelling of previous Halloween's, made the journey pass quickly. Soon enough, you pulled up to the estate-like property, already filled with cars and people flowing through the entrance.

"Geez, they really went all out this year", Jake's eyes strayed from searching for a parking spot for a few seconds to eye the bustle outside. You heard Emma mutter a there, showcasing an empty lot for you to take which her partner immediately headed for.

"When don't they go all out", Lily shrugged before continuing " Though this year you made a valid effort to match the theme, compared to earlier", Lily gestured to the hair Jake had coloured green for the night and the black tailcoat he wore. The man addressed was momentarily busy parking the car, so he only hummed as recognition to her words, but if he gave any further affirmation once it rocked to a stop, you didn't know as you hurriedly opened the car door.

Once stepping out, your mouth dropped open, before a gleeful smile took over. You heard the chatter of people passing by and watched their choice of clothes, the cocktail-dress code for the masquerade impossible to miss.

"You look like an eager puppy", you hadn't noticed the rest stepping out of the vehicle, but Emma's word you heard. Turning around you saw how she had matched the Joker her boyfriend dressed as. Patch-work jumpsuit in black and red followed her body, mask a bit more excessive then both your own and Lily's, as her face was covered in a joker masquerade mask.

"Don't tease her Harley, I'm the Joker for the night", Jake had come up to draw her close to his side, half of his face hidden behind a grinning mask.

"With jokes like that, I'm going to dump you".

"I know you won't", he said, the banter between them continuing as they took the lead towards the house, you and Lily following behind them. You felt exhilaration starting to pump through your veins and your mask gliding up as you couldn't contain a smile. Your undivided attention made the man following you with his gaze, go unnoticed.

You felt how the dress stuck to your skin as you made your way out from the dancing crowd. Since you arrived, you and your friends had busied yourselves with drinking and dancing. Up until this moment you hadn't parted from each other, though the suffocating atmosphere now prompted you too. You excused yourself to get through the crowd, knowing the exit to the garden was on the other side of the mass.

It didn't take long until you got to the door and opened it, doing so you were met by a cold autumn gust. Although it was probably barely noticed by those inside, you felt it envelop you like a counterproductive blanket. The sensation made a shaky sigh escape you, a sound which was swallowed by the noise of the door closing. Hugging your form your eyes closed momentarily, taking in how your bodily temperature steadily lowered. Something about it was comforting, feeling how the hotness disappeared though never fading to freezing. Even though you could hear the music from inside, it was nice fleeing it and the crowds for a few moments.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened your eyes while tipping your head backwards, following the fog the exhale then created. Not until it dissipated fully, did you refocus to watch the night sky. It seemed to be close to midnight if the full moon shining brightly from above was any sign to tell from. It cast a cold glow over the garden you stood by yourself in, that was what you had thought at least.

It caught you off guard, heart jumping as you hastily switched to look towards the source of movement in your peripheral. Far to your right, at the end of the patio, a man stood, almost hidden in the shadows. It was his dark grey suit, with few other lighter details, that made him blend so well against the wall of the house, yet the thing deceiving him was his hair. Light, almost verging silver, became a beacon of his presence, nearly as much as the shining mask hiding the majority of his face. His gaze had been heavily set on you the whole time since you noticed his presence and only thanks to this, could you see what the piece shielding his face resembled, a wolf.

As your eyes flickered up to meet his eyes, a pair you couldn't see but feel, you started to feel how the cold grew palpable. It was if the temperature dropped several degrees and a creeping feeling begun to spread in your body. It was then, instead of just having his head turned to you, his whole body did. However, the swift motion didn't stop there, as he didn't waste a second before walking towards you.

You couldn't read it as threatening, yet the way he closed the space between you without saying anything made you unsure. The door you had exited through was still nothing but a step away, as you hadn't ventured further from it, but you were paralysed. Even though you wanted, you couldn't move, merely stare at the man who already had crossed the halfway point to reach you.

It was when he started passing the windows, the flickering lights from inside illuminated his features enough for you to see him clearer. He was tall and well built as he moved with grace, although at the same time it seemed to be a restrained speed. You noticed a stubble on the visible part of his jaw, yet before you reached his eyes, you blinked and when looking towards him again, your jaw dropped.

He was gone.

There was no trace of him even being there in the first place. You started to doubt your sanity while stepping forward. That was when you felt it, a hand on your shoulder. Frightened you jerked away from it, scream dying in your throat as it closed from the sheer panic wrecking throughout your body. However, instead of being met by a silver wolf, you saw a shocked devil.

"It looks like you've seen a ghost", your hand was still placed over your heart and you felt it race from the jump-scare you just got. A relived, albeit airy, chuckle left you seeing Lily stand there, eyebrows scrunched at your reaction.

"From how you appeared from nowhere, I might as well have done it", you tried joking. Earning a laugh told you that you succeeded.

"Well you disappeared, so I came looking for you", you smiled, ever the caretaking friend she was.

"I needed to cool down, too sweaty with the crowd inside".

"Understandable, but you better come inside again", she reached for your hand, about to make you follow her, but not before exclaiming "God women, your freezing!" You wanted to laugh at her outburst, although the uneasy feeling in your stomach of being watched irked you to look behind you instead. As expected, no one was there.

From that moment and onwards, you couldn't let go of what happened. The man had disappeared into thin air, something you couldn't find any explanation to. Though that was not everything, ever since then, you felt observed. The feeling of having a glare in the back of your neck never ceased, yet every time you turned, you couldn't find anyone looking your way. It made an uneasy feeling settle in your body, but you tried pushing it away, knowing your easily spooked mind most possibly played a part in the trick your brain now played on you.

You had since then also joined the dancing crowd, at the moment throwing your head backwards, singing along the lyrics. You moved along the bodies, eyes closed to delve into the sensation of letting go. Even though you hadn't touched a drink since returning inside, you had had a few glasses earlier. Not enough to lose your reason, but plenty for renewed energy to develop.

Suddenly you felt how someone bumped you, harsher than acceptable even for the setting you were in, to which your eyes shot open. You were to turn around and tell the person off, yet something else caught your eye. Through the crowd, you could see him again. Silver mask reflecting the neon lights, yet none reached his eyes. You blinked, but in the second people had moved in the way and he was gone.

"This can't be real", you shook your head, though it was then you felt the burning feeling of eyes on you once more. This time you didn't hesitate to start turning in a circle to find the onlooker and when you did your eyes widened.

You had turned the opposite way of how you originally stood, something which would've taken minutes to walk. No matter if you walked through the dancing crowd, or around it. Yet there he was. The quickening of your pulse wasn't noticeable, not until the music started to fade to give room for the pounding in your ears that was. As heads began clouding the vision of him again, you tried to peer around them, as well as standing on your toes. Still, you lost him a second time.

It felt like someone played with you by now or you were going insane. At that instance, as it was triggered by your thought, you felt your body stiffen and straighten. Your body was hot, but you felt a coldness spread from your core. You recognised where the feeling came from, horrified you slowly turned to look the way it came. His mask shone in the dark, yet you could see nothing besides from it, the rest of him drenched in darkness.

"This can't be real, this can't be real", you uttered to yourself while turning and exiting the crowd and continuing down one of the corridors.

You knew Halloween was the night of terror, but never had you thought you would end up in a thriller. There must be a reason for everything, you thought, yet you had no explanations of the events you had witnessed.

Continuing to move forward, you heard the music fade behind you and your steps echo filling the silencing space instead. The empty space resonated each of your heavy steps loudly, the thought almost stopped you. There was no way your heels would give away that deep and loud of a noise. Intensely you listened, noticing how the sound followed yours perfectly, hitting the ground with the pace of your soles, making it sound like a further echo of yours. But it wasn't, someone else walked behind you.

The growing panic quickly crossed the threshold of fear, making you bolt. You zoned out, only focusing on putting as much distance between you and whatever was behind you that was humanly possible. You didn't dare look back, only held your gaze fastened on the door of the toilet, which had been your original goal.

It felt like the distance never ceased then all of a sudden, your shoulder connected to de door, while hand turned the handle, making you crash trough it. You stagger into the polished room, still not forgetting the door was wide open behind you. With all your weight you threw yourself at it, fingers finding the lock as soon as it closed with an echoing bang.

Your breath had turned shallow, shaking att both in and exhale. In a futile attempt, you tried holding your breath to silence the sound of your breathing. You stared at the door, attempting to hear if whatever chased you still was outside or worse, trying to break in. You realised that if it succeeded, there was nowhere left to run. However, besides your ragged breaths, it was silent, almost to silent.

It was then the impossible happened, you felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist. A choked sound was the only possible noise able to leave you. Biting your lip, you tried to quite the cry that wanted to escape, as well as your tears which were threateningly close.

You prayed this was your imagination, but you knew it wasn't as you felt the one being behind you step closer. You didn't need to turn to feel the looming feeling, which made you insignificantly curl into yourself.

"Y/N", unprepared for the sound of a voice, a whimpered left you, while you covered into yourself further. Your fear clouded your thoughts and not until his voice had echoed in your head multiple times did you realise, you knew that voice.

Though fear still gripped you, you slowly turned, eyes wide as you saw the mass of a man now standing before you. It was impossible to see anything more than his form in the dark, so you reached behind you, fumbling to find the light switch. Flickering to life the sudden source of light blinded you momentarily, though as soon as your eyes had adjusted, you looked at him once more.

Though his mask still covered most of his features, the light revealed many traits you hadn't seen before. His hair, which you had thought was silver, was dark brown at the roots, matching the stubble covering his jaw. The blue of his eyes shone from the cuts in his mask, seemingly crinkled in the corners. That was when you recognised him.

You recognised those blue eyes which you had gazed into so many times before. Those blues that could shift from shining brightly, to dangerously opaque. The ones you had left when moving from Sokovia, from him.

It was like he was bound, thus as you reached towards him, he stood perfectly still. You found the laces to his mask easily and with a few tugs, the tie loosened and the disguise fell from his face, hitting the floor with an unbothered cling.

"Pietro"

Taglist; @flowerchild1216 @haven-in-writing @krystallynx​ @sdavid09​

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

The Color of my Soul(mates) [2]

[First oneshot]

[AO3 link]

Kanene’s Notes:

Nope, I do not regret the pun. New oneshot yaaaay!! Just a quick reminder that both Virgil and Patton’s mindsets are bad. They can work, of course, but only for a certain expense. Worry not. They will both start to go to a therapist and take care of themselves, even though this will not be heavily shown in the oneshots.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Moxiety and Past Moceit and Past Virgil/Remus (no idea how it’s called dfghjdfghj) in a platonic relationship (yet), but it can be viewed as romantic, if you wish.

* Swearing, depreciative thoughts, losing someone (not death, just stopping to be soulmate), anger issues, anxious thoughts and nightmares. It’s hurt/comfort.

* [~*~]  Means passage of time

* [...] Means change in the focus of the narrative 

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 5.300 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Say to someone important how much you love them, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                          [~*~]

Loneliness is an island with missing boats.

Missing is when the moment tries to run away from the memories to happen again and can’t do it.

Memories are when, even without authorization your thinking re-presents a chapter.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hey, Dee! It’s been some time, huh? Nothing really happened around here, so I have no interesting news to share today. Buut, I learned a new knock knock joke! I would finally get you to laugh with this one! It’s like that:

Me: Knock, knock.  

U: Who’s there?  

Me: Ice cream.  

U: Ice cream who?  

Me: Ice cream if you don’t let me in!

Funny, right?!

… It feels silly to continue to talk with you through those letters. I can’t-

I don’t even know where to send them! That is stup- not great.

I just… I just miss you, Dee. A lot. My uncle says that I should get your old representation out of the bed and hide it so I can start moving on, but… It feels empty, you know? Everything.

I really miss you.

Love, Heart.

[…]

“No.” 

His words echoed in his mind, the strap of his backpack slipping from his grip, his body throwing itself forward, heart jumping in the back of his throat as his steps inevitably brought him even closer to the faded green, almost white, shark plushie in front of him. 

“No.” 

He repeated, as if this was a spell able to make the scene before him change. His hands trembled and failed in touching the so loved object, a silent scream slipping from his slightly parted lips. Yet, he still tried to think of something. Anything that would erase his choices. He knew it.

He should have known. He read about it before, the butterfly effect. Any choice, any movement, any little thing you did could change drastically your future. It could make events – people – which would happen in your life just…

Disappear. 

[The stuffed animal remained quiet on his hands, it’s blank face staring superficially, not really seeing him. Not like before.]

He knew it. 

“Rat?” He knew it. He knew it. He knew, knew, knewknewknew it! “Ree?” His soul searched desperate for an answer. But he got none. No thoughts, no feelings, no small touches, no acknowledging sparks, nothing. 

That word seemed to ring unbearably in his ears. There was nothing there. Nothing except for the silence and the void which filled itself with despair at every that went by.

“This better not be a prank or this time I will throw you in the washing machine for real!” Virgil’s eyes were stinging. He should have done better, should have thought in another way or another anything. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t! 

“Ree, stop. That is not funny.” Ree actually preferred when Virgil called him Rat, and as his chest was scratched by an agonizing, crescent fear, deep down the young boy wished his soulmate would jump – his thoughts always felt like that, excited, uncontrollable jumpy frogs just playing around – from somewhere and demands Virgil called him by it. “Answer me!!”

His fingers squished the soft fabric, a short, unexpected wave of anger pleading for at least a shout of pain before Virgil realized what he was doing, immediately lighting his touch, tears shining in a sad gloom in the corner of his eyes. His breathing started to hurt.

He needed to do something.

“MOM!!”

Virgil opened his door with a strong slam, running through the wooded floor of the corridor, stumbling his way to the stairs, coming down at the highest speed he could muster. The adult figure was already standing in the living room, the Tv blasting a show in the background, probably the activity his mother was concentrating on before his cry. A frown painted her face and her dark eyes stared at the boy when he stood in front of her, holding his stuffed shark in her direction.

“Fix him!” 

[‘it’ a quiet whisper from his brain corrected his sentence.]

Her analytical eyes danced around the toy in front of her, looking for any teared fabric, any stain or hint of what happened to it, the confusion in her actions becoming more and more prominent as no visible result was found.

[And, as her analysis occurred, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind wondered if this was the original color of the shark before it became a representation of his soulmate. They were together for so long Virgil didn’t even remember what it used to look like.]

No! The boy with heterochromatic eyes firmly gritted his teeth, head shaking. This was NOT the shark’s real color. Its real color was a dark, deep, enthusiastic green full of chaotic ideas and dumb jokes and sparks and grins.

He refused to let everything end in this way.

Realization fell in her face, a soft gasp coming from her open mouth. “Oh, Virgil…”

“No, no, no! You- You need to fix him!” But her eyes… “Mom, please,” the way her arms opened to involve his small, trembling form… 

“Please, he is my best friend.”

[‘Was’]

She hugged him, cradling her fingers in his hair and lightly rocking Virgil and his sobs, her sweet words muffled by his cry. Then the younger one wiggled out of her touch, getting the plushie and running back to his room, the door slamming one more time.

He refused.

“No! No!!” He kicked his backpack, its content spreading across his carpeted floor. The shark was placed in his desk seconds before the Virgil focused his anger on his bed, throwing everything on the floor. His pillows hit the walls and the toys on his shelves. The cacophony of sounds made his head hurt, but he ignored this in order to kick and throw more things. 

Seconds, minutes, countless pieces of time passed before he stopped, panting and with stinging eyes in the middle of the room, his only possessions left untouched was his guitar and Ra- His shark stuffed animal.

Because he loves playing guitar. Because he loves Ree.

His fingers pet its soft fur, wandering in every detail, trying to burn in his soul how alive and colored it used to be before today.

Virgil felt like crying, felt like hugging his old-representation with all his might and just spent the rest of the day like this, pleading that Ree would come back and Virgil would do better and everything could be back to normal again.

But he refused.

He refused to cry like a baby. He refused to let this happen to him. He refused to be made a fool by the Soulmate System or whatever sadistic creature that observed him right now. He refused to go through all of this again. 

Ever again.

Virgil opened his closet and got up on his chair, hiding the shark on the highest shelf under a bunch of old comforts he never got to use.

They wanted him to be a Colorless? Very well, then.

[~*~]

Anger is when the dog who lives in you shows its teeth.

Sadness is a gigantic hand that squeezes your heart.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[~*~]

Hiya, Dee.

Some days are better, some are worse. 

It hurts.

But, hm, good things, right? Today was sunny and refreshing, I love when this happens. A ladybug landed in my hand yesterday, it was so small… I also found another beautiful feather when I went to the park last weekend, very fluffy and a baby on the bus smiled at me after I made some funny faces.

I hope you’re also receiving and giving some beautiful smiles there. Aunt just called me for the movie night so… See you later!

I miss-

Love, Heart.

[…]

Virgil woke up sweating. A tight feeling clutching the back of his mind. However, he managed to catch himself before his eyes opened, the back of his hand pressing them, as if to make sure they wouldn’t open against his will.

Urg… Not this again…

Virgil pressed harder the pillow curling around his head, the pressure easing the irritation as he groaned in protest, wondering how much more time it would take before he finally grew used to this routine. An annoying sensation banged rhythmically on his chest, hammering together with his heart and flying along with the butterflies on his stomach over and over again until a slightly nausea almost leaded the one in pajamas to give up and just find the nearest stuffed animal so his soulmate’s bond could finally be initiated, his representation showed up and then the exhausted teen could finally get some freaking rest  and then proceed to turn a blind eye to his soulmate for the rest of their lives.

Who would say that ignoring the Soulmate System would be so hard?

But, damn, even if this shit always came back at the right moment when the first ray of sunshine hit his face, usually Virgil had at least the freedom of the night to sleep!

His hand wandered clumsily, hitting the bean bag next to his bed and looking for the small device he always left there for the night. He sighs when his fingers make contact with the cold of his phone, quickly bringing it up to his face and making sure nothing else could get in his eye field. On the third try he succeeded to put the right password, ignoring the video shining on it and quickly lowering the brightness of his screen until it was almost nonexistent. 

Four in the morning. What the heck was his not-for-much-longer-soulmate doing up at this hour??

Ok. It didn’t matter, Virgil murmured to himself, his words slurring, completely engulfed by the fog of sleepiness which continued to involve him. It didn’t matter because Virgil was sure he would manage to win that battle, just like he did on every other occasion since Ree. Of course, he never had a perfect receipt for this, only a group of superficial orientations as focusing on something else, tossing around the mattress until the exhaustion took over his body or doing anything that guaranteed his suborn nature to fight until the bond faded away with some hours, maybe one or two days. 

However, this one was about to complete a whole week and his resolution was beginning to weaken, escaping between his fingers regardless of how much he fought to hold it with tooth and nails. The mild headache growing on him was the proof of this.

He flipped his pillow, letting its cold surface rest on his face, adjusting himself to lay starfished onto the bed. 

He needed distractions. 

Songs. He liked to listen to music a lot, something he would be very much inclined to do now if it wasn’t so late and his earphones were so far away. But, stopping to think about it, it was crazy how sounds work, like, even if they’re far away they manage to be heard. Pretty much like that weird sound captured by that boat who was only minding its business… The Bloop. Heh. The Bloop. Such a stupid name… He wondered if it was a Jurassic animal doing that and when humanity would be finally able to answer his question. If it is really an animal will they call him Bloop? That is a horrible name to give to something probably gigantic and scary… Bloop… Bloopers… blooo...

His muscles from his toes to the tip of his fingers began to relax, his breathing becoming more erratic as the trail of nonsense thoughts led him away from reality and straight to the cloak of Morpheus. Bit by bit he started to be unaware of his room. First the faint sound of his spider quietly scraping the sand on her terrarium, second the sensation of the pillow on his face, then the cold of his phone as it slipped away from his hand…

And, unsupervised by the teenager's eyes, his index finger hit the ‘play’ button on the video, and the blasting of Aquiles Priester’s drums filled the room in a hot shot, followed in the same second by Virgil’s hoarse scream. The confusion and sound making the one with heterochromatic eyes stumble to a sit position, blankets and pillows falling from him as his astonished movements tried to be coordinated enough to turn off his phone before his mother woke up and decided to know why and what her son was doing up at four-darn-morning. 

The button was hit and the silence was faster in cover the room all over again, being only broken by Virgil’s shaken gasps, his trembling fingers laying on his adulterated heartbeats, taking large, wobbly deep breaths in order to normalize it, his attention entirely focused on hearing any hint of muffled step outside his room.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

He was fine. Everything was fine. 

This was only a scare.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

Okay. No sound. Virgil allowed himself to fall on his bed, stretching and humming in attempts to ground him to reality, not taking too long to let the sleepiness begin to slowly crawl to his mind again, his body feeling surprisingly much lighter than it had been in days. A yawn escaped from his lips. What the hell he was doing with his cell phone anyway?

For the second time in the night his body fled to a sitting position, the sudden calm and coziness which hit his senses now having a slightly sour taste on his mouth as the teenager realized what it meant.

His soulmate bond was complete.

His gaze flew to the small pile of fabric on the floor, a glint of a sky-blue color shining amidst it. He pushed his blankets away and his breath hitched when the full form of his soulmate’s representation was shown.

Oh no. Nononono. That was- 

That wasn’t normal. Nor supposed to happen. Oh shit. Shitshitshitshit. What could he do?

Virgil dropped – carefully, even if the cold on the bottom of his stomach screamed for him to run! – the object on his bed, getting across the room and right in front of his closet in a blink of an eye. The door flung open, his gaze scrambling through all his possessions in search of that specific teddy bear his mother gave him a year ago, telling it was going to help him to heal, grabbing it firmly and plopping it next to the blue fabric calmly laying on his mattress. He bit his nails while his eyes ran from an object to another, waiting for the color to somewhat jump on the plushie, where it was supposed to go in the first place.

Virgil stared inquisitively at his pillow- no, his soulmate’s representation, as if he could scare the reality into changing itself. His fingers ran through his hair, feet pacing on the floor.

 Ok. His soulmate was a pillow. A literal pillow. That was not good.

Before he could fall on his parasitizing thoughts or hide the pillow and pretend nothing had happened, a badly muffled sound reached him, making his body freeze as his brain immediately recognized what it was:

Crying.

[...]

Before is a caterpillar who didn’t become a butterfly, yet.

Indecision is when you know very well what you want, but you think you should want another thing.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings

[...]

Hey, dear! Heart here again! It’s been a time, huh? I discovered a new Pet Shop nearby and a very nice old lady let me play with the puppies after school. You really should see the hamsters there! They’re the cutest, most precious soft things!!

They don’t have any snakes, sadly.

I… I hid your teddy bear and I’m getting used to not stare at the right corner of the mattress, looking for you. 

I still miss your smooth thoughts, your warmth, your advice and receipts and… you.

I think I’m getting better. The sensation is starting to feel… normal.

Remember we-

I used to-

I know you won’t really read this, but I’m trying to keep taking care of myself. 

Hooray?

Love, Heart.

[…]

Patton loved stuffed animals and this was a fact that anyone who got into his room for barely two seconds would realize. Small plushies of multicolored frogs rested on his shelves. A big polite giraffe sat on his desk, proudly showing off her new necktie and his older ones were in the closet, guarding his favorites clothes. His soulmates, of course, had a special treatment, receiving a seat on his bed, closer to him and within his research at any occasion, emergency or not.

And that was an emergency. Well…technically. 

Maybe…

Perhaps not. 

The teenager changed to a sitting position, his fingers trapping the mattress in a deadly grip, tears falling from his eyes, which was firmly focused on the moon shaped night light across his room, trying to kick out the too cold, too hot feeling the nightmare left on his skin. 

His brain felt fuzzy and his thoughts were all mushed together, way too messy to properly fight against the memories of his dream replaying on his head. The sensation of pure despair still running on his veins as the monster – tall, fast, its shadow hovering over his small form – chased him and his friends. Patton still felt his throat dry after running for what seemed hours, and for when he realized they would never manage to actually escape from it. He could feel the betrayed eyes of his loved ones as he made each one of them trip, the small period when the monster got them giving him enough time to escape, the screams ringing on his ears.

He muffled his sobs, slapping his hand on his mouth and getting up, going to his closet and grabbing his panda. It was one of the fluffiest stuffed animals he had and he could use a bit of softness right now. His steps were tired and he hid his face on the plushie even before laying on his bed again, curling around the bear as if it was the core of safeness, as if it would make all the bad thoughts and feelings go away.

As if it could erase all the nightmare and convince the part of his mind which said that if it was real life, that would be exactly what he would do, that it was wrong.

It was! It was completely wrong! Patton would never, ever, betray his friends, or hurt them, or go away when they needed most! He wouldn’t. He would fight, if it was needed. He would do his best every single time to help them! To be there. He wouldn’t just run away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be alone. He didn’t even bear that thought.

[A part of his soul struggled, firm on its position. It kept holding into a bond that directed to another soul who kept pushing him away, both refusing to change their mind.]

Bear. Patton let go of a weak, barely audible, forced giggle, squeezing the panda on his touch tighter. Panda was a bear. Heh. His tears began to calm themselves, falling slower from the corner of his eyes, a strange and sudden wave of strange, but welcomed calmness hitting him.

A sudden warm touch laid on his forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Patton gasped, his wide eyes flying open to stare at the now purple plushie on his grip.

Purple. Pandas weren’t purple. He was sure this one was always white with black dots and tiny glasses on it. Definitely not purple. Not unless it was-

Oh. 

Ohhh.

Oh no.

For a moment his breath was taken, adrenaline exploded across his body and his mind went blank, his face stumbling forward to press his lips on the panda’s forehead, a completely lack of words, especially when a flow of sentences began to appear running over themselves and leading to his very tired brain to struggle in order to try to grasp their meaning before another phrase came and took its place.

[His body seemed to relax, letting go of a ball of tension Patton didn’t even realize he had in the first place.]

“Fuck, sorry, that was pretty dumb. Of course you’re not fine, why else would you be crying? What I was trying to say is: Can you get better? No, wait! That sounded harsh and it’s definitely not what I meant- wanted to say. Ehh, shit. Okay. Uhh. Breath, okay? Breathing is a good thing. You have to breathe to stay alive so I think it’s already a good start. Keep breathing, please do not die. Oh god, wait, that is not a dangerous situation, is it? Are you in danger? Are you dying? Oh, fuck I can’t hear-”

A startled giggle made a run from Patton’s lips, making his new soulmate to be quiet.

“Urg, sorry.”

“No, no. I was not laughing at you!” He adjusted his grip so the only part touching the purple bear would be him holding one of his paws, realizing he forgot to stop hugging him earlier. “I am okay. I just… didn’t want to cry on you, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t, huh, care.”

“Crazy how bonds happen nowadays.” Patton attempted a joke, feeling suddenly a bit vulnerable, internally wishing the other wouldn’t ask about the reason for his tears. “It-It’s hot today, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, with the Sun and everything.”

“Yeepp.” Patton sniffed, cleaning the tear track left on his cheeks before resting his back on the bed’s headboard, a beginning of a headache after that waterfall of emotions shining in the horizon.

“...Do you want to listen to a song? It helps me to calm down when I’m, ya know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already a bit better.”

“Ok, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Maybe it was sleepiness or the excitement of having a new soulmate, but before he could think much more about it the hidden truth was slipping from his mouth, “I’m grounded. No phone for the week.”

“That sucks.” The teenager just shrugged, hoping his soulmate would understand the action by his movement. 

Silence impregnated the room, spreading and filling his system, his eyelashes closing bit by bit.

“I know how to play guitar. I can… play a song for you. Onlyifyouwantofcourse.” The thought was quick, quiet and disappeared as soon as it arrived, leading Patton to almost believe he imagined it.

A good feeling bloomed in his chest, a smile flourishing on his face as he held his soulmate’s free hand, carefully squeezing them in what he hoped it showed his gratitude.

“I would love to.”

“’Kay. Uh, cool. Give me a second.”

And then a few minutes later his form was engulfed by warmth. Patton let go a sigh of relief, basically melting in the so caring touch, don't having the heart - that word gave a hurtful tug in his chest - to remember his new soulmate he couldn't really hear the accords, only the shy, calming humming rumbling on his chest and lullabying them to a peaceful sleep.

[~*~]

Feeling is the language the heart uses when it needs to send a message.

-       Adriana Falcão - Meanings.

[~*~]

"How can I call you?" 

Patton stopped his voice before that old nickname got out, scratching his throat. He should try to move on, right? 

Baby steps. 

"Pat." 

"Pat?" 

"Pat-Pat!" 

Virgil rolled his eyes, denying the small smile which appeared on the corner of his mouth.

“You can call me V.”

[…]

“So, you’re a pillow.”

Patton blinked, a surprised snort filling the room. “V, I know I often say I’m soft but if you wanted to rest on me all you needed to do was ask!” He added some shadowing on some feathers, giving the drawing of the Bem-te-Vi more profundity. He was really happy he found that site about the birds of America. 

“No, I mean literally. Like… your representation is not a stuffed animal, it’s a pillow.”

“Oooh…” He blinked a few times. “I didn’t know that still happens.”

“What do you mean with ‘still happens’? This happened to you before?”

“Not with me, but I saw a video about this! Before the plushies became famous due their shape being easier to be seen as human-like, the bond would form in anything that could be quickly dyed, just like clothes, pieces of fabric, pillows… I think if they showed it to a doctor, he would describe their condition as ‘comfortable!’” Patton shook lightly the panda’s shoulder, smiling. “Uh? Got it? Comfortable? Because they’re soft?”

“Pat, that was horrible.”

“Awww, come oon.” Patton rested his chin on V’s head, forgetting his drawing for a while. “Puns are harder than knock knock jokes! You have to wait for the perfect timing to make them.” Virgil huffed. “Not even an itsy bitsy giggle?”

“Nope.”

Silence.

“Pat?”

“No. I am pouting.”

He felt a couple of pats (ha-) on his head, the touching going away in a few seconds. “You will get there some day.” The other answered his soulmate with a raspberry, giggling a bit of his own silliness before going back to his hobby. He really was planning to finish this bird today.

“The thing is… Since you’re, ya know, a pillow. I was thinking… okay, I know that this will sound weird but… I was thinking of putting some clothes on your representation so I can… try to see you better.” 

“Ah.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, sure!”

“No, no. I am! It’s just…” Patton bit his lips, lightly squeezing the shell of his ear with the hand that wasn’t holding the pencil, adjusting his body to a better sitting position. “What clothes do you have in mind? Not that I think your taste is bad or you don’t know how to choose good clothes or something like that!”

“No, it’s cool!” The thought came in the moment Patton forced himself to stop his nervous talking. “I wanted to ask you because of that, I, uh, have black t-shirts, jeans, an old grey hoodie, PJs, clothes when I was a kid, onesies, maybe I can get a dress?”

“Gasp. Do you have onesies?? Aww, I want!”

“Everyone has a onesie.” Virgil mumbled in defense, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “I have a skeleton one, a raccoon and the Toothless from How to Tra-”

“OHMYGOSH YOU HAVE TOOTHLESS!” Virgil had absolutely no idea how Pat managed to make a thought so high pitched and excited to the point the words themselves were barely understandable. “HE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS, CUTE LIL DRAGON…” and then a bunch of squeaks and mumbling took over his brain just as he has hugged and then lightly bounced before suddenly everything disappeared.

He decided it was safer to let the silence prolong itself a bit longer.

…

“Pat?”

“You might need to give me a few more minutes, kiddo.”

“You need to chill, dude.” Virgil remarked, a ray of fondness shining in his words. He gathered his onesie. It was his favorite one when he was fourteen, now it didn’t even fit on him anymore and it clearly wasn’t made to be used by a pillow, as well, but it would suffice until he thought of a better solution. “Ok. Got it, you might want to use your Blocker now.”

“Okayy, it’s somewhereeeeee...” Patton rummaged the content of his backpack, looking for the earphone-shaped object. He hadn’t the chance to buy the wireless prototype, so he struggled a few seconds to untangle the cables. “Here! So, see you in fifteen minutes?”

“Ok. If you hear or feel something just touch my arm and I will immediately stop.” 

“Right!! Bye!” Patton waved, more a habit than anything else, plugging the Blocker on his ears and the cluing its ventosa behind his head, right where his cerebellum was. A few pieces of time went by before his head became partially empty, only his thoughts filling it. He put the panda away. 

It was a strange feeling, to use this outside his school, nor parallel conversation of his classmates or a teacher’s voice filling the air to distract his attention for the fact that he couldn’t hear or feel his soulmates anymore. He hummed, wondering how Lo was and writing a self note on the corner of his paper that he should check on him later, ask for him to finish that story with the smart detective he was telling him on Sunday before Patton fell asleep due the other’s habit to keep petting his hair, probably a revenge for Patton’s constant need to hugging, holding or actively interacting with his serious soulmate’s representation, more often than not receiving fond-exasperate pokes in return.

He looked through the window, mind wandering as the wind hit the tree in his neighbor’s yard, messing with its leaves. It was a bit lonely to have your thoughts all to yourself…

But not entirely bad.

[…]

“Sooo, howz does it looks like?” The naturally excited voice asked. Virgil just pressed his hand firmer on his lips, his other arm hugging his middle. His gaze fell for what it felt the umpteen time in the blue dyed pillow before him, the sleeves of  his onesie folded inwards in a poor attempt to cut half of its original length, the ‘legs’ were criss crossed and all of this ignoring, of course, the unnatural rectangular shape of the whole thing.   

‘Like shit.’ It was his first thought, but he decided to not send it to Pat.

“Weird.”

“I am looking at my pillows right now and-” giggles, “but come ooon, it’s Toothless! There is no way it isn’t at least a bit cute!”

‘You have no neck.’ He internally panicked, looking at the few, sporadic tiny blue hearts appearing amidst the black onesie, showing the representation was getting used to the new fabric attached to it. ‘A probably-head, shoulders but no neck. It’s like a reverse freaking giraffe!’

However, Virgil decided against sharing this particular vision with the other. 

“I guess. Are you… breathing well or whatever?” His tune was a mix of nonchalant and nervous, the choice of words making him wince.

“I am. Why?”

“No. Nothing. No reason.”

“Oookay.” The teenage signed at the confusion on his soulmate’s tune, why did he had to talk in the first place or be so weird making a such big deal of something stupid like that? Urg. He stared at the blue object one more time. Damn Soulmate System. Damn destiny. Damn lack of socialization skills.

…………

But, dude, really, the guy has literally no neck here, there is NO WAY he isn’t feeling nothing because of that. Pat is probably lying because he pities him after a so horrible, futile attempt of fixing what he caused. No. Wait. He can’t just assume his soulmate is lying because of his overthinking, the other part of his brain retorted. Was he overthinking? He probably was. He always did it. Or perhaps this was a correct inkling of Pat. Soulmates were supposed to do that sort of thing after some time, right? One week was enough time? What he-

“Hey!” Pat’s thought cut his own. “Sooo, now that you can ‘see’ me a bit better… hug? You can say no if you want, sure!”

Virgil blinked one, two, three times.

“Ok. But you let go when I let go, got it?”

“Sure thing, V!” Warmth bloomed in his chest when he heard his nickname, Virgil wasn’t sure why.

He embraced the representation, feeling a bit silly, the same feeling that was fast to go away as Pat hugged him as well, firm but careful. The sensation overwhelmed his senses, but in a good way, leading the one who loved guitars and got a strange hyper fixation on drums to let go a sigh, body relaxing.

He patted Pat’s back two times before finishing the touch. “There you go.”

“Thanks! Sooo, see you later.”

“Sure thing.” He agreed, wanting nothing more than a good hot bath after so many feelings in such a small period of time. 

“uwu”

“How the fu-” 

“NO SWEARING!”

“-did you do that?”

Virgil snorted, the warmth still spreading on his chest and maybe - only maybe, - having a new soulmate wasn’t an entire bad thing.

[captainscanadian]

Love Me Blue | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Janmashtami)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: When you were younger, you had always dreamed of falling in love with someone who would love you like Lord Krishna loved Radha. A dream that once felt as though it was silly no longer felt that way. 

Word Count: 4400+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tamilian!Hindu!Reader

Warnings: MINIMAL TAMIL SONG LYRICS (I’m more than happy to translate!) & TAMIL CULTURE, References to Hinduism, PTSD, Insomnia, Endgame References.

A/N: This is my entry for @bucky-smiles​‘s 3K Diversity Writing Challenge! My prompt was to write a fic with a Hindu reader. I decided to write this fic with a Tamilian reader because I am Tamilian. I was born in Sri Lanka and my mother’s side of the family are Hindu. Although I consider myself an agnostic theist, I do enjoy reading the epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana. I hope everyone had a wonderful Janmashtami. Along with Lord Krishna himself, it’s also @jalapenobarnes​‘ birthday this weekend so please go shower Saran with all the love. This one’s for you, my chellam! <3 Pics are off of Pinterest! 

Bucky Barnes watched curiously as he sat cross-legged on the tiled floor of your living quarters, splashing a handful of water on the bright green banana leaf that you had laid out in front of him. 

Even though your apartment had a designated dining room with an oak wood table and chairs, he wondered why you preferred to be eating on the living room floor. Not to mention the way you had chosen to serve him on a banana leaf than a plate. 

As much as he found it bizarre, he was also curious about the traditions that you seemed to follow. Not just through the way you ate your meals, but also the way you honored your dead best friend and the way you had filled your apartment with idols and paintings of your Hindu God. It came as a surprise to him that someone as young and well-educated as yourself could even hold onto the traditions that you had been raised with despite having settled away from your home for years. 

Bucky had been surprised to find that as the decades had progressed, traditions had evolved with the emergence of a post-modern society. The way people had practiced religion had also evolved with time, but the way you practiced yours seemed to be the same as the way his own mother had practiced hers back in the day. 

You did not conform to modern life for the sake of it, and he found that inspiring. The old Bucky who had always been fascinated by all that science had to offer would probably disagree with you. But having lived a whole century as one of HYDRA’s science experiments made him wish that he could return to the pre-modern society that he had been born into. He hated confirming with the status quo as much as the next guy, but seeing you made him realize that he did not need to force himself to confirm either. He could be himself, as long as he could figure out who exactly he was meant to be. 

“According to my grandmother, eating off of a banana leaf is a lot more healthier than eating off of a plate. Apparently the nutrients in the leaf can mix with the food.” You explained to him as you served him some of the rice, careful not to overcrowd the banana leaf. You knew that he was unfamiliar with the dishes, but also appreciated that he was willing to try out a new cuisine at this witching hour. “She said that it’s good for the immune system, prevents intestinal ulcers, skin diseases… soothes the stomach, helps with digestion and prevents kidney stones.” 

He nodded, understandably. “Right…” He agreed, not having the heart to tell you that the super soldier serum in his body ensured that his cells would constantly regenerate and prevent him from falling ill. Nevertheless, he found your endearment quite refreshing. You really did treat him like he was Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th and not the Winter Soldier, and he was grateful for that. 

“We’re used to eating off of the leaf during special occasions or when we have guests.” You added. “There’s a Buddhist and Hindu philosophy... Atithi Devo Bhava. It literally means that the guests must be given the same respect as you would give to your Gods. And since you’re my guest tonight, you get the banana leaf.” 

“I’m no God, Y/N.” Bucky clarified, sighing as he ran his metal hand through his greasy hair. “I’m a human being, a brainwashed assassin, a weapon of destruction who brought so much pain in people’s lives. I don’t deserve to be treated with so much respect.” 

“Bucky…” You frowned at his words before shaking your head. “As the one who spent most of my life studying the life of Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th, I beg to differ. I know that you have a lot of internalized guilt about those days and I don’t blame you for that. But you can’t let the Winter Soldier define who you are. You’re more than who you used to be when you were brainwashed. It wasn’t who you were.” 

“To be honest, I don’t even think I know who I am anymore…” He admitted, a truth that he hadn’t told anyone else at the compound but felt that he could trust you with.. “But I know for sure that I don’t deserve to be respected like you respect your God.” 

“You should let me be the judge of that. My concept of God is actually quite different from the Abrahamic religions that you happen to be familiar with.” You protested with a soft chuckle, crossing your legs to sit across from him. “My grandmother once told me that Lord Krishna… being the God of love and compassion, he’s always present in one’s heart. Wherever there’s love, he’s always there. If there’s love in your heart, he’s there. And that makes you just as Godly as anyone else.”  

“I’m the world’s longest prisoner of war who spent most of my life imprisoned in a cryofreezer. There’s nothing Godly about the life that I’ve had to live.” He shook his head. “If anything, I’m a symbol of pain and suffering.” 

“Well, Lord Krishna was born in prison.” You remarked. “His life was meant to be filled with so much love… It started on Janmashtami, in a prison cell where his parents were locked up by his own maternal uncle. Even in all that pain and suffering, the betrayal that Lord Krishna’s parents had to face… they were blessed with a child who was the incarnate of the supreme God himself. All that pain and suffering led to some kind of reward, and I’m sure you’ll get yours in due time. Sri Krishna never discriminates, and he forgives those who are truly remorseful of their sins. He’s the God of compassion after all.” 

Bucky could not help but chuckle softly at your words. For every word of self-hatred that came out of his mouth, you had your own rebuttal that was rooted in your faith. He was left with no choice but to accept his defeat and give in to being treated as your guest for the night. It was the least he could do other than make use of that computer he had been given to catch up with the world by looking up Lord Krishna. “So, what’s on the menu for tonight?”

“Okay!” You exclaimed, pointing to the rice dish that you had placed in the center of the leaf. “Ven pongal, basically made from rice and yellow lentils. It’s also got some peppercorns, cumin, turmeric, ginger, curry leaves and cashews that I fried in some clarified butter. That’s why it smells so good. Don’t worry about the spices though. This is probably the mildest dish I’ve ever eaten in my life.” 

Bucky nodded as he looked up at you. “Do you make this often?”

“It’s a traditional breakfast food in South India, but it also makes for the ultimate comfort food when I’m missing home.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders before grabbing the bowl of sambar and pouring it over the rice. “Now this might be a little spicy for you. But it’s the side dish of all side dishes. Sambar, basically a mixed vegetable stew with lentils and spices. Great with most South Indian breakfast foods.” 

“And what about the rest?” He asked as he eyed the remainder of the delicacies that you had laid out before him. He could not deny that the warm aroma that wafted up his nostrils made them much more appetizing. Despite it being past midnight, he was starved. 

“Medhu vada… deep fried lentil fritters, coconut chutney to dip ‘em in… and kesari, dessert made from semolina.” You pointed to the items as you placed them on the banana leaf. “I hope you don’t mind eating with your hand. We don’t really use utensils and I kind of forgot to pick some up. If it makes you feel any better, the right hand is commonly used to eat so…” You motioned towards his hand. “Dig in?”

He raised his eyebrow at your words. “I guess that was very convenient for me.” He joked before looking down at the food and back at you. “Aren’t you going to eat with me?”

You chuckled softly before shrugging at his question. “It’s alright, Bucky. I can eat after you. It’s not polite to eat before the guest.”

“Y/N, come on… you just said that you made all of this food because you were feeling homesick. I can’t eat all of this without you.” He clarified with a smile. 

You looked down at your lap in embarrassment as you felt your cheeks heat up. “I kind of only bought one banana leaf because I thought I would be the one eating all of this food.” You told him, shamelessly. “I didn't think I would have company, not that I don’t want you here or anything. I invited you to eat but… my grandmother says it’s rude to eat right out of the serving bowls if you’re going to be serving the food to someone else. I don’t mind waiting until you’re done and helping myself to your leftovers.” 

A part of him could not believe how bound you were to your grandmother’s words, especially when it came to your dining etiquette. Despite the fact that your grandmother had been someone to hold you back from your potential, he admired that you still respected her enough to follow through with the culture that she had taught you. 

“Fine, then if you don’t mind…” He reached down to grab a dollop of the pongal and sambar with his thumb and two fingers, carefully holding his hand up towards your mouth. “Let me at least feed you.”

Your eyes grew wide at his gesture and you found your cheeks heating up in embarrassment once again. “Um…” You gulped, not knowing how to react to that. A part of you wanted to accept his offer, but the pitter patter against your heart mimicked the rain against your window and caused you to become very nervous. 

As much as you had denied it when you were around the rest of the team, you knew that you did have a slight crush on Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment when you had first watched through the archival footage from the war. After all, who wouldn’t. At that time, you had believed that he was dead so it didn’t mean much. But now he was very much alive and sitting right before you. He was certainly a good looking man who’s smile could light up the world, and unbeknownst to you he had just lit up yours. 

You had spent years studying his life, along with the rest of The Howling Commandos, in the name of academic curiosity. But you could not deny that now seeing him in person changed how you really felt about this man. Not many people who studied historical figures had the chance to see them face to face. But this had happened to you twice now, and it still felt surreal. Bucky Barnes really was sitting on the floor of your living quarters, about to feed you a bite of your most favourite South Indian comfort food. What kind of idiot would you be not to accept it? 

You accepted the bite of food that Bucky had offered you, bringing your hand over to cover your mouth as you chewed. Your lips curling into a small smile as your eyes glazed over, you looked down at your lap. 

For some reason, eating from this man’s hand had made you miss your father quite so much. Seven years it had been since he had passed away. You never even got to say goodbye, the last time you had spoken on the phone being an argument that you had ended abruptly by hanging up on him. Had you known what was going to happen just hours later, you would have done things differently. You would have cherished the last moments you got to share with your father. Hell, you would have even prevented him from dying the way he did. But it was all too late now. 

Perhaps you suffered from internalized guilt just as much as the super soldier who sat before you, for you did feel partially responsible for your father’s death. Being an agent who was meant to save the world and all, you couldn’t even manage to save your own father. While this did once make you doubt your skills as an agent, you could not deny that you would give anything to be able to do right by the man who had raised you to be anything more than a typical Indian farm girl. But for now, all you had to do was exist for the sake of existing and accept the position that you had been given. Do the right thing, just as your father had taught you. 

When you had been five years old, your grandmother had told you the story of how Lord Krishna was married to more than sixteen thousand women. She had told you that he married every woman who loved him. He loved them back just as much too, being the God of love after all. But the woman he loved the most, he hadn’t even been married to her. Radha Rani was the love of his life. She was his soulmate. Despite not being married, their love for each other was so pure and eternal. 

It was then you told your father, in your childish little voice, “Appa, I want someone to love me like Lord Krishna loved Radha.” 

Now as you swallowed the bite that Bucky Barnes had fed you, you couldn't help but look over his broad shoulders. Up on the wall behind him you had hung one of the many paintings of Radha and Krishna that you owned. But in that particular one, Radha and Krishna were affectionately gazing into each other’s eyes while feeding each other. 

It didn’t seem like a sign to you then, but you prayed for some things to be made clearer in due time. After all, you were going to be here for a while. If Lord Krishna was really going to bless you with the kind of love that makes you blue after all of that pain and suffering, then you might as well accept it like you had just accepted that bite of food from Bucky. 

“Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You looked over at the man who sat next to you on the couch, his legs crossed as he leaned against the armrest. “Why are you even up at this hour?” 

Bucky Barnes looked over at you and let out a sigh, not knowing if lying to you about his insomnia would sell. After all, you seemed to know him better than he knew himself despite the fact that you had met just yesterday. While he feared that admitting the truth would cause you to become weary of him, he knew better than to lie to the woman who was in a position of authority. He had to be transparent with you, mainly because he didn’t have the heart to lie to you. 

“I can’t sleep.” He admitted, biting down on his bottom lip as he sat up straight, his elbows resting against his thighs as he covered his face with his hands. “I haven’t slept properly in a while, ever since I moved into the compound really. Every night I go to bed at a reasonable time. But I still end up waking up at this strange hour because of some nightmare.” 

Leaning over to rest your hand on his shoulder, you wanted to give him a squeeze. But you were quick to realize that his left shoulder was vibranium, so instead you moved your hand to rub his back. “Have you talked to Sam about it?” 

Not that you would assume that his friendship with Sam was anything like his friendship with Steve. As someone who had your own demons, you knew that it was not that easy to confide in someone about something like this. But you were well aware that Sam had some experience offering support groups to veterans who suffered from PTSD during his time working at the VA back in DC. He seemed to be much more equipped to handle something like this than you were, no doubt about that. But since you were now the boss around here, you knew that something needed to be done to address the mental health of your heroes.  

Bucky shook his head. “He’s always been weary of me, Y/N. I don’t think I should worry him about this. The last thing I want is for anyone to think that the Winter Soldier is still in me when he’s not.” 

“Sam can be an asshole at times… but he means well. He cares a lot about his friends, and that includes you and me.” You admitted. “But I know what you mean. What you’re going through, it’s not easy. You’ve had to deal with a lifetime’s worth of torture under HYDRA, along with the whole thing with the blip. The world has changed so much that it’s not all that easy to keep up with anymore.” 

He looked up at you and frowned. “I feel so lost, you know? Like I don’t know where I should start. I’ve missed out on seventy years of… life. The life that I knew before the war is gone and the life that I had since then… is full of torture and bloodshed. I’m just lost in the midst of it all.”

“Bucky, you do know that… if you ever want to talk about anything that has to do with history or what happened in the world during those seventy years, you can just talk to me about it, right? I may have a Master’s degree on The Howling Commandos but I do know a thing or two about what happened in the world after the war.” You offered, finally cracking a smile. “I can definitely help you out with catching up with times.” 

He chuckled softly at your words. “Is that how you and Steve… became friends?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the mention of Captain America, a man whom you had respected and aided in the recovery of until Natasha had decided to set the two of you up on a date. It was a brief fling while the two of you had worked together in DC. But once you had realized it wasn’t going to work, you had ended things amicably. While you had remained friends and you had helped him catch up with the world, things had changed so much around you. 

“Yeah, I guess.” You admitted with a shrug. “He needed someone to catch him up to the world and Fury realized that he hired a history major. I think it worked out for all of us.” Looking back now, you only felt blessed to have known Steve Rogers. He was not only an inspiration, but also one of your closest friends. “And that’s why I’m offering to help.”

“But how could you help me, Y/N?” He asked. “What can you possibly do to help me come to terms with who I am?”

“Well, I had Steve read through the Internet a lot and make a list of all the things he wanted to try… like Thai food and Sherlock Holmes. I know that you’re not going on any missions right now. You’re just hanging around the compound and trying to kill time, right? I’d say… make use of the computers we have here, learn as much as you can. We can talk about it. But don’t ever think that you’re alone in this.” 

The Internet was a great place to start learning, right? Surely, Bucky had been apprehensive about taking that step. But he needed to be given a little push. Thankfully, he now had you for that. “I guess I can do that.” He gave in, for he was starting to get bored of the facility’s gym. 

“There is something that needs to be done about your nightmares though.” You pointed out. “This compound needs an on-site therapist. I need one. You need one. Wanda needs one. We all need one after all this crap that we’ve had to deal with.” You made a mental note to make some calls in the morning, but for now you knew that your attention should be on the super soldier. “But right now, you really need to get some sleep.” 

Bucky shook his head in defeat. “I can’t seem to fall asleep in my bed, Y/N. Believe me, I’ve tried… for many nights. I guess I just have to suck it up and kill time until the morning.” 

You raised your eyebrow at his words before crossing your arms against your chest. “What? Do you need me to sing you a lullaby or something?” You asked him, teasingly. 

He laughed at your question before shaking his head. “As if that’s ever going to work on me…” 

“Is that a challenge, Sergeant Barnes?” 

Bucky Barnes had no clue how it even happened. Just twenty-four hours ago, the two of you had been strangers who had nothing in common except for the fact that you both shared a past that had been perfectly entwined somehow. But now you were sitting against the headboard of his queen sized bed in the living quarters adjacent to yours, his head resting against your lap as he shut his eyes. 

Your soft hands running through his silky dark hair, you sang the words that you had pretty much memorized by now. It was a lullaby that your grandmother had sung to you when you were younger, written about how Lord Krishna himself had fallen asleep after a long day of playing around his village. 

Ayarpadi Maaligaiyil

Thaai Madiyil Kandrinai Pol

Maaya Kannan Thoongugindraan, Thaalelo

Ayarpadi Maaligaiyil

Thaai Madiyil Kandrinai Pol

Maaya Kannan Thoongugindraan, Thaalelo

Avan Vaai Niraiya Mannai Undu

Mandalathai Kaattiya Pin

Oiveduthu Thoongugindraan, Aaraaro

Oiveduthu Thoongugindraan, Aaraaro

Ayarpadi Maaligaiyil

Thaai Madiyil Kandrinai Pol

Maaya Kannan Thoongugindraan, Thaalelo

Pinnalitta Gopiyarin Kannathile Kannam Ittu

Mannavan Pol Leelai Seidhaan Thaalelo

Pinnalitta Gopiyarin Kannathile Kannam Ittu

Mannavan Pol Leelai Seidhaan Thaalelo

Andha Mandhirathil Avar Uranga

Mayakkathile Ivan Uranga

Mandalame Urangudhammaa Aaraaro

Mandalame Urangudhammaa Aaraaro

Ayarpadi Maaligaiyil

Thaai Madiyil Kandrinai Pol

Maaya Kannan Thoongugindraan, Thaalelo

Bucky Barnes had no clue how it even happened. But as he listened to the melody of your lullaby, he had drifted off into a deep slumber. When he woke up the next day, he found that you were gone. But he knew that you were the one to thank for helping him sleep after many months of waking up from nightmares. 

As the weeks went by, you and Bucky had become quite close. As most of the team were gone for days at a time because of their respective missions, the two of you often found yourselves being the only ones remaining at the compound. Despite your loneliness, you somehow found comfort in each other. 

Your free time was usually spent cooking up a storm in the common kitchen, and Bucky found himself frequently joining you for your meals. He had taken quite the liking to South Indian cuisine, but he had also kept his promise of making you a completely vegetarian Wakandan meal - something that he apparently prepared by video-calling the Queen Mother of Wakanda herself and asking her for recipes. 

“Does this mean you have diplomatic immunity? Being the adoptive child of Queen Ramonda and all…” You had joked. “They call you the White Wolf, don’t they?” 

“Did you ever have to use your diplomatic immunity?” He had asked you mockingly. “Being the daughter of an Indian diplomat after all.” 

“Bucky, could you please give Queen Ramonda my regards? Let her know that Agent Y/L/N, the daughter of Ambassador Y/L/N, sends her regards and thanks the royal family for all of their help.” You hadn’t been all that familiar with the Wakandan royal family during the reign of King T’Chaka, but it was only after his death did you have the chance to work closely with them. After all, you understood the pain that they had been dealing with all too well. 

Bucky was not familiar with why you seemed to know them so well. He had just assumed it must be because of your career in diplomacy before you became an agent. He did not think much of it though, at least not until he had told Shuri that you gave their family your regards. 

While the truth behind your relationship with the Wakandan royal family had certainly shaken him to his core, he did not make it known that he knew about it. After all, it was a huge part of your own personal life and you were just his boss. He did not feel the need to let you know that he knew something about you that you might not have wanted you to know. But instead, he continued to learn more about you and the culture that you were raised in. 

The Internet was a great place when it came to catching up with the world. He had read just about everything he could get his hands on, from history to literature and science. While he tried to keep up with how much the world had changed, he had also read as much as he could about your religion. 

He often joined you on your visits to the temple in the city after noticing that you made it a habit to go there every Friday. When Janmashtami came around, Bucky had offered to help you paint footprints from your front door to your shrine of Lord Krishna. 

According to your grandmother, the tradition of painting baby footprints was done believing that Lord Krishna would follow them and enter your home. You had been doing that every single year on Janmashtami for as long as you could remember. But that year, you just knew. It was the first year that Krishna had entered your home for real.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Coutdown - A Bump in the Night

Summary: Victoria Van Gale is a serious scientist even after her laboratory and workplace is destroyed, she remains the sort of person to look for the reasons behind everything. She likes being in control, she makes stern analyses and important experiments, and she… goes trick or treating with a bunch of kids?

Notes: 3 days until Halloween, you guys!!! This is the irst time i actually try to make something I write feel like an episode, I hope you enjoy it! I thought it would be hard to write something with no sketchbook (and no librarian either!!) but it was actually so fun! Love this little unhinged scientist

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: HYPNOTIZED by AViVA

Victoria Van Gale did not like things she could not control.

She took her coffee black, she liked to read biographies, she was an early riser and she didn’t like things she couldn’t control. It was just one more part of her personality like any other, and she’d never really seen a reason to fight it. Granted, she supposed that it had been partially to blame for the fact that her observatory was now destructed, and she had to work a dull nine to five job to pay for the apartment she’d managed to rent. But she hadn’t been the only one involved in that mess. The responsibility could hardly be given to her, she’d been perfectly fine  before those kids and their talking bird arrived. Or at least she told herself.

But the fact was that, out of her distaste for things she couldn’t understand and command, was born a revulsion against that one night of the year.

Halloween. What a bunch of nonsense.

She did her best to forget the night every year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in ghosts, witches and monsters. She’d seen enough to know there was much in this world that she couldn’t understand. It just made her uncomfortable to have to face a whole celebration dedicated to the incomprehensible. Why should they revel in it when they could analyze it? If humans had superior intellect, only their silly superstitions stopped them from being the absolute rulers of the world.

It seemed that, in her efforts, Victoria did manage to forget about Halloween, because she gasped as soon as she stepped outside and was faced with a crowd of children dressed in colourful costumes, running around and knocking on people's doors. A group of kids nearby noticed her leaving the building in which her apartment was, and ran towards her.

“Trick or treat!” They exclaimed, raising their pumpkin shaped buckets at her. Victoria tried not to feel too guilty as she gently told them he had nothing to give them and watched them walk away crestfallen.

Her plan had been to go to the nearest convenience store, pick something to snack on since she felt like it, and return home just as quickly. With all the tumult the celebrations caused, however, she was just considering giving up on her task to head back home when she felt something bump against her leg. Looking down, she saw a white figure, much smaller than a child. As it realized it had bumped on her in its haste, it looked at her and Victoria could see the glimmer of the lamp post light on its dark eyes. It ran away, and she took off after it.

By the way the creature ran, with white linen trailing behind it, Victoria could only come to one conclusion: she’d found a ghost. And if she managed to catch it, the amount of information she could get was unimaginable! How did ghosts come back to the earth? Was it true that there were more ghosts around on Halloween? What was the afterlife like? How did a ghost even work? The excitement at the prospect of asking those questions, combined with the running which she didn’t do often left her breathless.

As she dodged them, her chase attracted the odd stares of many children, and even their complaints when she accidently hit one in the shoulder, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was getting to the ghost and taking it to somewhere where she could study it. Nevermind that this would probably be her apartment.

She came to a halt, however, when a large group of children who were crossing the street together blocked her path. She tried to squeeze her way past it, but when she had finally crossed the crowd, the ghost was nowhere in sight. 

“Oh, no” She whispered, looking around frantically. She jogged forward, coming to the end of the street, and looked into the two other streets that the one she was in led into, seeing nothing but more children. There was a fifty per cent chance she’d pick the right road, and she was about to try her luck on the path to her right when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Victoria… what are you doing?”

Startled, Victoria looked behind her shoulder to see the same blue haired girl who had set her weather spirit free. Her face had been painted green with black drawings that mimicked stitches, and the hair bow she was wearing had screws in its ends to make it look like they were coming out of her skull. She was accompanied by the boy Victoria also remembered, who wore dark clothes and fake fangs, and a girl Victoria hadn’t met yet, a witch hat on top of her head and wearing a black dress.

She didn’t exactly still have hard feelings towards Hilda, though she wasn’t over the fact that her interference in private matters had left her homeless and jobless. For her part, however, Hilda looked like she didn’t trust Victoria in the least.

“Oh! Hilda! You won’t believe this, I just saw a <em>ghost</em>. I’m, uh, happy to see you’re fine, by the way. With the nasty fall you took from the bureau and all.”

“Are you really?” David muttered, making Hilda elbow him softly so as to tell him not to pick on her.

Hilda asked her what the ghost she saw was like, while Frida whispered to her friends questioning who this woman was. Though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, Victoria noticed David answering in her ear.

“It was very small.” She informed, placing her hands apart from each other in order to show her esteemed measurement of it. The girl that was dressed as a witch looked at her with suspicion as her friend talked to her, but she tried to ignore the two of them and focus on Hilda. “And it really did wear a white cloth like the tales say. Pretty quick, too.”

Frida was about to refute something she said when Hilda lifted her hand, asking her not to.

“A ghost!” Hilda exclaimed, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s interesting. But why were you running after it?”

Victoria fidgeted, rubbing her thumb and index finger in circles. “Well, I… I’d never seen a ghost before, is all. I just wanted to try and take a look! See what they’re made of!”

Looking disappointed with the answer, Hilda sighed and shook her head negatively. “Still trying to control everything, Victoria? Haven’t you learned already?”

“That’s… that’s not it…” Victoria tried to defend herself, looking down at her feet.

“You know what?” Hilda said suddenly, her tone changing abruptly to a more joyful one. “You are not going to find anything in this crowd by yourself. Not only that, but all three of us have actual experiences with ghosts. We’ll help you with it.”

“Really?” Both Victoria and the two other children gasped.

“Really, under one condition.” She put a finger up, looking serious. “This is my first Halloween in Trolberg, and I don’t want to miss out on it. You’ll come with us and after we’re done trick or treating, we’ll help.”

“Huh?” Victoria frowned, thinking that perhaps the girl had hit her head hard after that explosion in the bureau. If she ran, she still might catch up with her ghost, but if she spent the night trick or treating, she was certain to never see it again.

“Hilda, I don’t have time-” She tried to argue, but the girl cut her off.

“Don’t you know the lore of Halloween? These ghosts will be walking around town the whole night. In fact, if you come with us, there is an even greater chance of you finding a ghost, even if not the one you just saw. But it’s all the same to science, right?”

“Yes…” Victoria rubbed her chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But Hilda.” David whispered to his friend, probably thinking he was being a lot more discreet than he was in reality. “She’s an adult. Adults can’t go trick or treating.”

The look Hilda gave her scared Victoria more than any child should be able to.

“They can if they’re part of our costume.”

_#_#_#_

Victoria all but dragged herself behind them, attempting not to feel like a fool.

“Is this really necessary?” she groaned, being met with Hilda’s fierce affirmation that yes, it was necessary. After they’d struck their agreement, the trio had made her take them to her apartment, where they found her lab gloves and coat and made her wear it. They hadn’t even stopped there, finding her black rain boots and asking her to put them on too.

When they began going to the first houses, she’d felt awkward standing near the children as they asked for candy. Most people ignored her, until one woman, with bright red curly hair and a sweet face chuckled at her.

“Who would you be?” She asked, not mockingly but with curiosity after dropping a large amount of sweets into the children's pumpkins.

Hilda was fast to answer. “She’s Victor Frankenstein!”

“Oh, what a lovely pair you two make!” The woman said, her eyes going back and forth between Hilda and Victoria. “You must be such a dedicated auntie. Here, have some candie as well, you deserve it.”

After putting candies in Victoria’s shelled hands, she wished them a good Halloween and closed her door. The children climbed down from her porch, but Victoria remained where she was, looking awestruck as she stared at her hands.

“Are you okay?” Frida asked, the first to realize Victoria hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been a lot of time since I received candy from anyone.”

David tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten candy in a long time?”

“What? No!” Victoria assured him. “I eat more candy than I should, honestly. But it’s different when you get it from someone. Everything is more special when it’s a gift, I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop and eat some of what we got tonight?” Hilda suggested, and the rest of them agreed eagerly. There was a bench nearby, and they all sat on it. As the kids dug into their pumpkin buckets, making their choice of which sweet to eat first, Victoria unwrapped a sour candy.

“Did you know that sour candies are sour because of the citric acid?” She asked, drawing the kids’ attention. “Like all acids, it has hydrogen ions which activate our tongue’s sour taste receptors! Isn’t this interesting? Of course, this is the same acid we have in some fruits, but to use it in candy you need to make it by fermenting sugar with microorganisms! Not as simple as it seems at first, I’m certain.”

“I thought you were a meteorologist.” David said after a beat.

“I am! But that doesn’t stop me from liking the other sciences as well.”

“That’s so cool, miss Van Gale!” Frida gasped, and Hilda nodded in agreement. “I hope this is not rude to ask… but there are so many things about the science books I read that I don’t understand, and our teacher can never really answer all of them. I was wondering if one day you’d be willing to help me with that?”

“Of course!” Excited at the prospect of having someone to discuss science with, Victoria nodded, happy when the girl looked joyful with her acceptance. “It's always good to revisit topics one hasn’t studied for long. Keeps the brain sharp.”

There was a pen in her labcoat’s pocket, and the woman used it to write her landline’s number on the candy wrap and give it to Frida, so she could call her for them to arrange a day.

“I think we should go.” Hilda sighed, tired because of the late hour but very happy about how her first Halloween in the city was going. “We still have many houses to visit, and I have an idea that might get us even more candy.”

_#_#_#_

“It’s moving…” Victoria uttered in the moment when Hilda, lying down in front of the house’s door, began lifting her hand. The couple that lived in the house watched them with curiosity and wonderment at their makeshift theatre. “It’s alive! It’s moving, it’s alive! In the name of God, now I know what it is like to be God! IT’S ALIVE!”

Abruptly, Hilda lifted her whole torso up, groaning as monstrously as she could. Her two friends giggled, already having received their candy, and the couple clapped at them.

“How frightening!” the woman said, dropping candy into Hilda’s pumpkin. “Happy Halloween and keep up the good work!”

The group left, laughing about how good their acting had been. They’d done it for all the past houses, and everyone who had seen it had loved it, even fellow trick or treaters. Now knowing that they were her favourite, Hilda always gave the sour candies she received to Victoria, and as she separated them from the others David complimented how genuine Victoria had sounded.

“Thank you, David. I have a talent for the dramatic arts, don’t you think?” She boasted mockingly, swiping her hand across her shoulder to push her wild hair back. The boy giggled, the apprehension he’d had of her in the beginning of the night all but gone. Without them even noticing, the resentment each of them had towards the other seemed to have melted away with the time they spent together.

“I just think ‘mad scientist’ comes to you naturally, Victoria.” He retorted, and she brought her hand to her heart in fake outrage, making them all laugh.

“It’s getting really late.” Frida said unwillingly. “I think I’ve got to go home.”

They all looked at the wrist clock Frida was wearing, and Victoria was surprised to find herself sad that her time with the children had come to an end. It made her even more surprised, when she remembered the ghost, that her first thought had been about the children and not about what they’d promised her.

After that, David also sighed and mumbled that he had to go, otherwise his parents might get worried. Hilda didn’t say anything, nor did she look at Victoria.

“I still…” Victoria began. She didn’t want to force kids to stay out past the time they should just to help her, but it seemed like they had forgotten. “I still need to look for the ghost.”

Hilda sighed, the same sigh from hours ago, when they’d found her running around like mad, and she finally looked at Victoria. The woman didn’t like the resignation in her eyes.

Unlike Hilda, when the two other kids looked at her, she could see that the ghost really had slipped from their minds, and that they even felt guilty about it.

“You two go home. I’ll help Victoria find her ‘ghost’.”

They nodded and said good night to both Hilda and Victoria, beginning their walk on the direction they had come from. Something about the way Hilda had said the word “ghost” didn’t sit right with her. If she was being honest, the fact that she’d apparently taken the girl from her happy mood to this silent one didn’t either. She told herself it didn’t matter, they had struck a deal and it wasn’t like she was the girl’s “auntie” like some of the people they saw seemed to think. But even though it didn’t matter, it still made her feel a pang in her chest when the most energetic, positive person she’d seen in years sat down on the concrete edge of the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d let this go.” She muttered, looking at a point in the distance. “I thought that maybe you’d have fun and realize that there’s so much beauty around, especially in te things you can’t control. But I suppose it would be asking for too much, to change a person in a night.”

She whistled suddenly, and Victoria heard the tip-tap of something small coming their way.

“Come here boy!” Hilda exclaimed, and when Victoria looked at the spot Hilda was watching, she saw the same creature she’d seen hours before running her way, and gasped when it happily came into Hilda’s arms.

After picking it up, Hilda turned to her, her face serious. “Is this your ghost?”“It is!” Victoria nodded, her mouth wide in surprise. The biggest surprise, however, came when Hilda lifted the veil from the creature, revealing a white, fluffy looking deerfox.

“Frida wanted to tell you in the beginning of the night. What I said was true, we have had experiences with ghosts, and we know that ghosts don’t wear veils like in the tales. I had dressed Twig up to come with me tonight, but I gave him the command to follow us from afar when I saw you. He must have bumped into you when he was bringing back the stick I threw him. Though he didn’t give me anything, so he mustn’t have been able to find it.” “What?” She gasped, watching Hilda shake her head and get up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know I’m young, Victoria, and I’m still getting used to the whole living in society thing. But there’s one thing I do know that you need to understand. If you keep believing life is a battle, you’ll never stop seeing enemies all around.”

After saying that, she walked away down the same road Frida and David had too. Disappointed, confused and guilty all at the same time, Victoria let herself fall down to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Though it was the most dangerous night of the year, she was beginning to think she was the only monster around.

[seasonal-shifts-au-fanartfunart]

Goodbye Winter

Summery: Fall!Virgil goes to talk to Winter

Warnings: sleeplessness/overworking, it’s just overall kinda melancholy & bittersweet, idk pretty much the typical stakes for this au overall >w< Tell me if anything else needs to be added.

Words: idk. over 700ish. (Its not super long at all)

Anyway, here. Have a fic. :)

-

Virgil pulled on his hoodie and glanced over at the only other season in their home. He sighed, leaning back against the doorway to his room. Logan’s back was to him, a sprawling collection of papers surrounding him where he sat on the floor. An occasional mumble accompanied the frequent scratches on the various papers and calendars.

“Take a nap sometime soon,” he said, ruffling Logan’s already disheveled hair. 

Wispy blond strands falling into his eyes, he glanced up from the papers. The crease in his brow softened, just a moment, “Yes, yes… I’ll endeavor to do so-” He worried his lip and added, “Just- after I work out this...”

Virgil gave a lopsided smile, and turned towards the doorway with a two-finger salute. “See you later, alright?”

Logan nodded, the crease in his brow was back. He adjusted his glasses, shaking his head. He let out a soft huff. “You don’t have to say that every time one of us goes out,” he said, trailing off as his eyes returned to his schedules and plans. 

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Virgil muttered to himself as he shut the doorway. He glanced up at the sky, sighing into the chill air. He weaved his way through patches of oranges, reds, and golds. Fingertips brushing old branches, the wind shaking out old leaves in his wake. He mused the possibility of a thunderstorm for the night, although, it might just happen on its own accord, considering his mood. 

He sighed, pausing in front of the lake, a spindly layer of ice webbed across it. Virgil leaned back into the air, staring up at the grey clouds hanging overhead. “You’d think you’d be close by, given how cold it is already.”

Frost crept around him, almost gentle and curious. Icy cold fingers braced against a tree. 

One sure would think.

Virgil kicked at some of the leaves on the forest floor, hands in his pockets… He swapped his cloak for a hoodie, Patton noted dully. That must’ve taken some courage. Virgil had had that cloak for ages. Patton wavered against the tree he’d hidden behind, watching Virgil, looking over the familiar terrain. 

“Logan’s not… handling it too well. Despite what he says. I, kinda offered to take over, at least for a little, but he’s stubborn as always. Maybe he thinks I’ll worry myself into an ice age. Maybe he’d be right. Heh. You know I’ve never been the best at keeping myself in check.”

Virgil slumped against a tree, “Roman’s not much better. Actually- I think he’s hiding something…” An ominous rumble curled through the sky, “Or I’m just overthinking. I mean, he hasn’t changed much, just complains even more about Logan doing his job wrong.” Virgil laughed a little, “If that’s possible.”

Patton shifted and hit his head against the tree he’d been against, listening to Virgil ramble. 

“Isn’t this the part where you try and get me to see the bright side or tell a silly joke or something? Frick, what’s that term I heard- somebody called it something and I- Dad joke- somebody called ‘em a dad joke. I think you’d like that. ‘M not sure if it’ll stick, I think it’s kinda silly… but then again, so are the jokes.” 

Patton smiled, soured with melancholy. Yeah, he liked that. He missed this. Meeting up in the crossover between their seasons, talking about everything and nothing. He missed Virgil’s rumbling voice, and the shuffle of leaves underfoot. 

Distant thunder rolled overhead. Patton glanced up and frowned. Virgil sighed. “Well I guess that’s been decided for me.”  

“I- I’m trying, Pat. I’m trying.” Virgil leaned forward, glaring out at the ice, “Maybe if I stay out longer, Logan’ll rest more. I- I don’t know what I can do for Ro. Logan’s gotta see him more often anyway so maybe he’ll figure something out... Yeah.” 

Patton nodded to himself, avoiding thinking about how if he’d just come back- No, no they had each other. They’ll be fine. They had to be.

Virgil had gone silent. Patton was half sure Virgil would call him out, demand he reveal himself. Patton wasn’t sure he knew how he’d react if he did. The air was still. Stiff.

“And I’m talking to the air,” Virgil huffed eventually, quiet. “Cause you don’t stop by here anymore…. I-”

Virgil tapped the tree beside him briefly, he whispered something under his breath. He was gone with the rustle of leaves and a rumble of a storm overhead.

Patton covered his mouth and twisted his eyes shut. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

That night, a spattering of hail crashed onto the streets while the wail of wind and boom of thunder crashed together in a thunderstorm. The following rain lasted nearly a week.

A dreary downpour that had little hope of breaking.

-

The sky wasn’t clear by any means, but it was bright. The air was brisk. Clouds fluffy and light.

“And the seasons, they go ‘round and round- and the painted ponies go up and down-” A voice sung softly, crystalline clear.

Virgil glanced around, turning to find the singer wandering toward the frozen lake.

“We’re captive on a carousel of time- we can’t return we can only look behind- from where we came- And go round and round and round in a circle game-”

“Well that’s depressing,” Virgil huffed, albeit a smirk had found its way onto his lips.

Patton gasped, “It is not! It’s a story about growing up and looking back. Reminds kids to take their time to grow up, since time doesn’t slow down.”

“See, case in point. Depressing.”

Patton shrugged, scrambling over the fallen log to sit and oversee the view. “Well I think it’s cute.”

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Virgil asked, taking his place next to Patton- next to the human.

Patton smiled, “Too see you, silly. Plus- it’s pretty. I like this spot. There’s.... memories here.”

The air seemed to sharpen, just a bit. “Like what?”

“Oh, I hung around here lots as a teenager! There was this one time when I thought it’d be a good idea to try and kinda- half skate on the ice- I didn’t really have skates, but the ice was slippery so it was kinda like skating- I almost fell in actually-” Patton waved his arms around, gesturing , “I know that was a dumb idea. But it was fun!”

Virgil leaned on his elbows, shaking his head, “If I was there-”

“I’m almost certain I would’ve been able to rope you into it,” Patton said a smile plastered onto his face.

A giggle fluttered through the wind, rustling the sparse leaves hanging onto the trees. Virgil nodded, resigned. “Probably.”

Patton sighed, smiling to himself, “I don’t know- It’s- kinda been an Always Spot, you know? I feel like I’ve known this place forever. And it’s just where I like to be, especially during the Fall, when it’s getting cold and the leaves turn pretty colors- and Now I just so happen to also like to check to see if you stopped by, too.”

Virgil nodded, tugging on the edges of his hoodie, “That’s- that’s nice Pat.”

“It would be easier if you actually, ya know, told me when you were in town.”

The rolling in of clouds had been slow, gentle. Smell of fallen leaves surrounded them. “I mean- I have my ways of saying so.”

“Mm, somebody should get a phone.”

“I’m actually not sure if that would even work where I live.”

“It’d work in town at least!”

Virgil shook his head, “We’ll see.”

Silence was comfortable. The air was a soft sort of chilly. Patton’s breath fogged into the air when he gasped. He crinkled his nose with a little smile and glanced up at the sky. “Well hello, Winter.”

Virgil took in a sharp breath, eyes wide as he glanced over at Patton. A snowflake fluttered down onto his nose. He glanced up at the sky himself. “Oh. Yeah.”

Patton rubbed his fingers together, warming them up. Snowflakes nestled into his blond curls like they belonged there, seeming reluctant to let him go. Which- Virgil could understand.

“Yeah... Hello, Winter. Definitely nice to see you again,” Virgil said to the air, because "Winter” doesn’t stop by here anymore.

[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [5]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 5/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir sits at Dante's desk, gazing at him. He is stretched out on the couch, his feet crossed on the arm and his eyes closed, snoozing away. She is supposed to be organizing the bills and writing checks, but his soft snores caught her attention, and now she can't stop staring at him.

Watching Dante has been something she often catches herself doing. It's been over a week since she arrived at the Devil May Cry, and every day brings something new she never saw before: a new television show, a new joke of his, a new case that piques her interest. But none of it as interesting as the son of Sparda himself, who has turned out to be an intriguing mixture of strength and determination wrapped up in a layer of an simplicity she hadn't expected.

Even now, napping on the couch, he's a conundrum of contradictions. His outfit, an odd blend of red and black leather, was quite obviously chosen with care, yet his face holds a day's growth of stubble, and his sprawl is haphazard; he looks like he puts effort into his appearance, like he doesn't, like he's comfortable, like he's going to fall to floor at any second. It's a far cry from what she was raised to expect, to be certain. There is no cold, elegant warrior here. Just a man, or a little more than, content in his little corner.

Despite her doubts, the truth of him is far more comforting than the myth she was led to believe.

Lir ducks her head, feeling a bit silly now. Even a legendary knight and the son of humanity's hope is still a man, isn't he? It seems foolish now to know she never once considered he would be a normal guy, but it makes a lot more sense than a mysterious figure whose life was fighting and justice.

Of course, Dante is a fighter; that was made clear enough first hand. He's had two jobs since the cat incident, both dispatched with ease. As for justice . . . well, he has a good heart, good enough to take a stranger in, anyway.

In the end, Lir is glad that Dante isn't what she had expected. It's much more interesting this way certainly. She is even having fun, something that also had never occurred to her to even expect in their union. Fun and flirting and enjoying one another's company is something that might come later, after years of marriage; love at first sight and romance lived in novels and Hollywood movies, not reality. Yet being with Dante had Lir questioning everything.

"Yer starin' a hole in me," Dante mumbles from the couch. His voice is heavy and thick with sleep, and he rubs at his face before yawning so widely that his jaw pops. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry. I was woolgathering, I think." Lir stands with a smile and heads into the kitchen, where she sets to making him a cup of coffee from the pot she'd only just brewed. He takes it from her with a grumbled thanks when she carries it to him, and the sight of him with mussed hair and drowsy eyes is so strangely adorable that it makes her heart pound. "It's strange for you to have a day off, isn't it?"

Dante swallows a large mouthful of coffee before he replies. "Mm, nah. Sometimes I get handyman jobs—that's how the shop is listed in the phonebook—but I rarely take 'em unless the pay is good. So it's a lot of this, unless Morrison or Lady drop by."

Lir nods, continuing to watch him. Her chest tightens a bit when her thoughts land on how handsome he is; if this marriage had worked out, that is one thing that would not have been an issue. Lir had tried not to have any expectations, particularly since the paintings of Sparda in the old books had him with long, curved horns and spikes on his hands. She moves to sit back down at the desk, her eyes drinking him in. Never had she pictured his son with soft silver hair, tall and broad and muscled, strong jaw and lips the perfect shape to kiss—

"Where'd you go?" Dante laughs, and Lir misses the desk chair and lands on her backside on the floor.

He's on his feet in an instant, coming over to help her to her feet. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yes." Embarrassment colors her cheeks scarlet. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Might be something in the air," he says. His hand is warm and solid against her own, and she clasps it gently, marveling at how much larger than hers it is. "Can't seem to wake up, myself."

"Well, luckily, we ca—"

The door to the shop swings open, admitting Lady inside, and she eyes the two of them with what Lir assumes to be amusement. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Lir laughs as Dante pulls her to her feet. "Just clumsy."

"You're back sooner than I expected." Dante lets go of her hand and turns, folding his arms. "Don't you know how to call first?"

"No time. I told you, I was running an errand. A mutual friend needed a ride back to Red Grave." She gestures behind her and Lir looks up to see a gentleman walk in, his suit almost as sharp as the little gleam in his eye. 

Before she can ask, Dante groans. "Unless you have some money I don't want to hear it."

"Nonsense," he says. "I got wind of your predicament and I just had to come see for myself." Lady smirks as he crosses the shop, and Lir sees Dante roll his eyes a moment before he takes her hand, holding it up to press his lips to the back of her fingers. "You must be Lir. Lady told me all about you."

"I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage, sir," Lir says, falling naturally into the role of demure hostess, "as you know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"The pleasure is all mine. It's been a long time since I've seen true beauty, and you, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes." The man smiles at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "Name's Morrison. I act as Dante's broker, bringing him jobs that I think suit him." With a wink, he adds, "He starts giving you trouble, you let me know, and I'll set him straight."

Lir glances at Dante with a giggle, but he looks unamused. "Thank you," she says, smoothing out her smile as she delicately retrieves her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"So what do you want?" Dante sighs.

"Call it curiosity," he says. "I was out of town and Lady offered to give me a lift home, seeing she would be in the area. Naturally I accepted, and when she told me about her latest job I had to come and see for myself."

Morrison turns back to Lir with a wink. "The daughter of Ler, this is an honor. I'm somewhat familiar with your family, and of course I've heard the story of how your people helped the legendary knight Sparda."

"You have?" both Lir and Dante ask at the same time.

"Sure." He reaches into his coat, drawing a cigar from a pocket along with a trimmer. "The gods are mostly forgotten now. Humanity moved on, and only a couple of the old ones managed to hold on. Ler is one of 'em. Back when Sparda was separating the worlds, he needed a priestess, and Ler sent one of his along . . ."

"I was always told it was a relic," Lir replies with a frown.

"That too. In fact . . ." Morrison tilts his head towards Dante. "That pendant you gave Trish came from Ler's temple."

Dante sucks in a sharp breath as Morrison casually moves to the sofa, sitting and crossing one leg over the other. Lady leans against the pool table and watches as he puts his hands on his hips. "How do you know?"

"She showed it to me. There's some patterns on the side that look just like their buildings." He nods at Lir, who jumps. "Don't know how Sparda got his hand on those amulets though. Care to enlighten us?"

Three sets of eyes fall on Lir, who blushes and shakes her head. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"Ah well. Mystery is long over anyway. Two thousand years has a way of muddying the truth." He chews on his cigar a moment thoughtfully. "Surprised to hear about this oath though. From what I understand Ler and Sparda didn't see eye to eye."

"No, they were great friends," Lir interrupts, stepping around the desk. "At least, they respected one another very much."

"Not what I heard," Morrison chuckles. "Sparda lost too much money playing dice to him for them to be that good of friends."

"Really?" Confusion swirls within her, along with a faint, barely noticeable tinge of discomfort. Was everything her family told her wrong? Could they really have forgotten so many truths? 

It must show in her voice, or on her face, because Morrison exhales a slow cloud of smoke. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It could be both, or neither. The only ones who would know for sure are Sparda and Ler, and neither of them are talking."

". . . Yes, I suppose."

"Anyway," Lady interjects, "the fact of the matter is that you're stuck with her, Dante. I can't move her now that she's here, or the cult might find out that the two of you aren't honoring the promise. So, Lir, you're gonna have to stay here until we figure out what to do."

She nods as she leans against the desk, listening to Lady tease Dante about being a terrible gambler ("like father like son," she laughs), but not processing anything. It's just like Dante himself: she had expected one thing, and found another. Ler himself might not be at all what they know, but the idea leaves her feeling shaky.

"Hey," Dante says, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes!" Lir says quickly. "Are you both staying for dinner? We'd love to have you."

Lady laughs and waves her hand. "I can't stay. I have work tonight." She nods towards Morrison. "You coming?"

"I think I'll take the lady up on her offer," Morrison smiles. He takes a drag from his cigar and nods at Lir. "I want to hear more about her people."

Lir ducks her head, wondering what would have happened if Dante were more like Morrison, deciding that she likes him just as he is. Then she flushes, a rather odd trend that's started whenever she's around or thinks about the devil hunter. "Dante, would you mind entertaining our guest while I get started on dinner? I'll be out with drinks in a moment."

His eyes are assessing on her face. "Don't worry about the drinks. I got 'em."

"Nonsense!" She pats his arm. "I can take care of it. Besides, you said that Morrison often brings you work, didn't you? I'll leave the two of you to discuss business."

Lady huffs a laugh, drawing an uneasy look from Lir. "Careful you don't spoil him too much," she chides. "Dante is insufferable enough as it is."

Lir feels a strange urge to defend him, but Dante interrupts. "Get going. And you didn't let Lir's family know what was up, did you?"

"Of course not!" Lady gives a wave as she saunters through the shop. "I told you, I'm a professional!"

Lir turns and heads towards the kitchen, but to her surprise, Dante is right behind her. "You okay?" he asks with a frown as she opens the refrigerator. "First you fall over, then you're offering dinner? You don't have to do this, it's just Morrison."

She considers the options within and his question with equal care. "I'm fine, I think. All of this has just been . . . a bit of a shock, if I'm allowed to be honest. It's like . . . like my family was so disconnected from the world that they forgot how things really were. Or are. I don't know."

"Lir . . ."

"I mean, it was one thing when it was just you they were wrong about, because they never met you. But to be wrong about Ler, or his relationship with Sparda, it . . . it means they're probably wrong about everything else, too. What if there never was a promise? Or they wrote it down wrong?" She pulls out a thing of ham, deciding that a roast will do nicely. "What if they sent me here and I've been in your way for nothing?"

"You're not in my—"

"The worst part is, they don't even know that they're wrong!" she continues, rifling through the pots and pans. "Our entire community is built on providing a bride for the damn son of Sparda, and if Sparda didn't even want that, if there was no agreement, then what have we even been doing for two thousand years? Sitting around on the sea looking like idiots! We'd be no worse than the Order who thought they could raise him from the dead. I mean, I didn't get to do anything because I had to prepare myself for this thing, and it's not even—"

"Hey." She blinks up in surprise when Dante grabs her arm. Then very suddenly he pulls her into a hug, suffocating her slightly as he crushes her to his chest. "Slow down," he chuckles, patting the back of her head.

Despite the lack of oxygen, it does feel good in his arms, and Lir allows herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad chest and arms. But then she eases back, looking up as she wipes at her nose. "Sorry," she mumbles.

He gives her a crooked smile. "We can't know anything. So don't get all worked up. We just need to figure out today." Lir smiles at that sentiment and he nods. "Now, I'll cook dinner. You go talk to Morrison since you actually want to know this stuff."

"But—"

"No buts." He swats her rear end, making her squeak, before pushing her out the kitchen door. "I got this," he laughs, and Lir finds herself back in the office, Morrison grinning in her direction.

Belatedly, she realizes that she has no idea if Dante even knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, but one of them needs to sit with Morrison and Dante has made it clear that he wants her to do it. Lifting her chin slightly, Lir crosses to the couch across from Morrison and settles delicately on it, crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her hands in her lap. "How long have you known Dante?" she asks.

"'Bout ten years. I met him shortly after he opened shop and gave him a bit of a loan to help him along. He's still working on paying it back." Morrison chuckles. "That's long enough to notice how much he likes having you around."

"You must be very good friends."

"Something like that." Morrison looks around the shop. "Probably something more like what Ler and Sparda had. A relationship out of necessity."

Lir swallows nervously. "In our community, we believe they had a close relationship built on mutual trust and respect."

Morrison chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure the two old ones respected each other well enough. My curiosity isn't to be invasive, but to understand." He leans forward and studies her closely. "See, from what I've been told, Ler's magic was used to maintain the seal on the oceans, so the demons couldn't come slithering out of all those unexplored deep parts. Considering the planet is eighty percent water, that is a pretty big task." Then he nods at her knowingly. "Your oath here was a part of that. Payment for the spell."

Lir shifts nervously. That is similar enough to what she had learned, with a marked difference. "It isn't a payment," she murmurs. "It is a . . . an agreement between friends."

"Is it now?" He leans back as if thinking deeply, tapping one finger on his lips. "All that magic must have cost Ler a great deal. Maybe even took his immortality. And he just gave it away for nothing?"

"I . . ." Her gaze drops to her lap. "We are taught from birth of the legends of Sparda, and of Ler. Millennia ago, when Sparda sought to permanently divide the human world from the demon world, he came to Ler, as they were friends and he knew that Ler was wise in the ways of magics. Ler agreed to aid him and Sparda, as a show of faith, promised to marry his firstborn son to one of Ler's daughters."

"So," he says mildly, "two different stories, two different versions of how it all played out. In my experience, when something like that happens, the truth is somewhere in the middle."

"In the middle?" she murmurs.

Morrison nods. "In the end, though, it probably doesn't matter why. Whether Sparda asked him for a favor or Ler offered, hell, Sparda might have threatened him over it, stole the magic, who knows. Doesn't matter if they were friends or enemies or just drinking buddies."

He points at her as she considers this. "What does matter is this oath of yours. That's serious business. And if it is true, and the ocean seal is caught up in this power, then we need to know. It would be a devil of a time if you two didn't get married, and suddenly demons started walking out of the ocean."

Lir glances at the kitchen, where she can faintly hear Dante singing wildly off-key, and then she lowers her voice. "It's not that I don't want to marry him," she admits. "In the time that I've been here, he's proven to be a far better man than I ever dared to hope he would be. He treats me kindly, and I've learned so much since coming here, and he never asks me to do anything that I don't want to do."

"But?" Morrison prompts.

"But I . . . I don't think it's what he wants. That I'm what he wants. And it doesn't feel right to me, anymore, to try and force him into it because it's expected. There's also . . ." Her cheeks burn, but Lir forces her voice to remain steady. "Well, I think I could love him, and I didn't expect that, either."

"Is that so?"

Lir's eyes open wide as she realizes what she just said. "No! No, I mean . . ." She holds her palms up frantically, "I didn't mean that! I've only known him a week, we're friends. It's silly, I spoke out of turn."

Morrison chuckles, leaning over to pat her knee. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He winks, but Lir is filled with shame, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap.

A moment goes by during which she takes a deep breath. She glances towards the kitchen, wondering what would happen if Dante had heard that—if her parents had heard her say something like that.

"In the meantime," Morrison sighs, chewing on his cigar, "there is this question of the oath. It would be a bad idea to just wait around and see if the seal breaks, although I don't see any alternative."

"What if we . . ." Her heart pounds in her chest. "If we did the ceremony, it would count, right? We wouldn't have to actually get married, or anything like that?"

Morrison chuckles. "Maybe. You would know more about this stuff than I do."

Lir frowns, her mind wheeling, when the fire alarm goes off. They both jump up at the high pitched beeping as Dante bursts through the kitchen door. "Everything's fine!" he hollers. He pulls one of his revolvers out and aims for the smoke detector, shooting it from the wall, and it lands on the floor, smashing into pieces.

She gapes at him in the sudden silence. "We're ordering pizza," Dante says.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Morrison leaves before the pizza arrives, citing heartburn, offering his apologies for not having more information to give. Lir and Dante eat in relative silence; she watches him scowl as he picks the olives from his silences, thinking of how wrong her family has been about everything so far. What other lies have they taught her, so caught up in tradition that they never thought to question any of them?

Setting her half-eaten slice on her plate, Lir works up the courage to ask, "I know that it's . . . a sore topic for you, but would you mind telling me what you remember of Sparda?"

"What for?" He doesn't look up, and that worries her.

"Because I . . . I want to know the truth.”

Dante snorts. "Who cares about the truth?"

"I do!" she insists. "When I came here I knew what I had to do: marry the son of Sparda, be a good and obedient wife, and give him children to continue the line."

He almost chokes. "What?"

"But now it's all—it's all shit!" She clenches her hands furiously, tearing her paper napkin. "Sparda didn't tell you anything. So either he forgot, or it wasn't important. But what if it's not even real? What if Ler didn't give him the power? What if everything I've ever known is a complete and total lie?"

She looks at him with eyes that are bright with frustration, and Dante takes a thoughtful bite. "That sucks."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she snaps.

He says nothing for quite a while, working steadily through his pizza, taking measured drinks from the beer at his elbow. Finally, when her irritation has begun to simmer into mortification for saying so much, and none of it pleasant, he leans back in his chair. "He was a jackass. Nice when he wanted to be, but I don't think he ever really knew what to do around children, even his own. So, my mother took care of us. He was usually off doin' something or other. Sometimes we wouldn't see him for weeks."

"I see . . ."

"Had a strange sense of humor, thought swords were good gifts for toddlers. That's the kind of guy he was, as far as I know." Dante looks at her steadily. "But he disappeared when I was six. Went off and got himself killed. A year later, the demons came, killed my mother, and Vergil disappeared. And every time he's come up since, it's been some mess of his that I've had to clean up."

Lir flushes, regretting having asked. She bows her head and whispers, "I'm sorry."

There is a moment, and then Dante says, "He made good brownies. Not sure how, but they were extra chocolate-y. He taught me and Vergil how to arm wrestle. Came in handy when I was living on the street, I could hustle some money for food." She peeks up at him, relieved to see him smiling. "He had a laugh that sounded like a goose dying. Mother would put the radio on and Vergil would dance and it would make him laugh."

"He sounds . . . human," she murmurs, more to herself than anything.

Dante shrugs. "He lived here for a long time before he and my mother met. Locals probably rubbed off on him. But all that Legendary Dark Knight stuff? That wasn't him, not as I knew him. He was old by the time I was born, even for a demon, and he lost a lot of his power when the gates were sealed."

Lir nods, and Dante leans in to lift another piece of pizza. "Not what you wanted to hear, huh?"

"Actually . . ." Lir picks an olive off of the pizza and pops it into her mouth before making a face. "Ugh, you're right, these are awful."

"Told ya."

She chuckles, and they exchange smiles. "I'm not disappointed," Lir murmurs. "It actually sounds nice. I think I like human Sparda better than the legendary stuff anyway."

"Oh?" He cocks a brow, but the expression has lost the taunting edge it held when she first arrived.

"Mm." Tucking her legs beneath her, she yawns. "Just like I like the real you more than the Legendary Devil Hunter."

Lir leans her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her cheek on her hand and smiling. "Real me, huh?" Dante chuckles.

He sits back as well, the two of them gazing at one another, and Lir is struck by how comfortable she is with him. There are no expectations, no rules, no one there to tell her what to do. Instead she sets her own schedule, does what she wants, and the only standards she has to meet is her own. And Dante . . . in just a short time he has made her feel at home. "Real you," she murmurs.

Dante chuckles, his voice deep, and it makes her breath catch in her throat. "How do you know the real me, hm?" he teases.

"I just do," she answers. "I know I haven't been here long, and maybe it's out of place for me to say, but I'm . . . I'm really glad that I met you, Dante."

His eyes on her keep her pinned, and before she realizes it, she leans towards him. Her gaze falls to his lips, and Lir wonders what it would be like to kiss him, wonders what would have happened if he accepted her offer right away and married her that night. Something tightens deep inside and a small part of her wishes he had, despite the freedom she has now.

"You're not so bad either," he says, leaning in too.

The air between them is charged, and she feels a shiver up the back of her neck. But Dante doesn't move any closer, just keeps gazing at her with those intense eyes, and as the moment stretches on, Lir starts to doubt. They get along, and he's said he likes having her there . . . so why didn't he take her offer? Why hasn't he tried since?

Maybe he wants something more, she thinks, but that is ridiculous. More, what more? Romance isn't really a thing, at least not that she's ever seen outside of books and movies. Sure, they have a connection, and he is sweet and handsome and she is dying to taste his lips. But that can't mean anything . . . and even if it does, it doesn't mean he feels the same.

Suddenly embarrassed, she eases back and looks away. "That's kind of you," Lir murmurs.

"Yeah."

He is still staring at her, but now his brow is creased, as if confused. All it does is make him look more handsome, and make her want to reach out and brush her fingertips on the crease and slide closer, so she stands, gathering up their plates. "I'll take care of this," she says, escaping to the kitchen, and once there she splashes water on her face, telling herself to get a grip.

[pixiegrl]

hi em! 💖 no. 2 of the dialogue starter at an art gallery with cake? (or any pairing that you think it fits actually)

Shal! Hi! This was so fun getting to write about Cake. It ended up turning into museum instead of art gallery, but I was feeling nostalgic and was thinking about the time my friend and I went to the MFA so Luke and Calum went on a date to the MFA. (im Luke lol). I hope you enjoy it!

It’s also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578555

Calum wakes up to Luke shaking him awake. Calum pretends to be asleep for a little longer, if only to hear Luke huff fondly and lean down to kiss him awake. Calum grins into the kiss, leaning into it and tugging at the back of Luke’s neck to pull him closer. 

“Cal, that’s cheating,” Luke whines, but he returns the kiss with enthusiasm, grinning against his lips until he remembers the reason he was trying to wake Calum up so early.

“Cal, you’re distracting me.”

“Can’t we just stay in bed?” 

“We have a whole plan for today,” Luke whines, tugging on Calum’s hand to get him out of bed. Luke has a point. It’s rare they get a day off, especially on tour. They’re staying in Boston and Luke has been excited to go to the art museum here. It’s a date, just the two of them, even rarer than a day off is. Luke has been talking animatedly about their date for the last week, pouring over the museum’s website, trying to find the optimal day to visit. Calum doesn’t mind one way or another. As long as he gets to spend the day with his boyfriend, he doesn’t care where they go.

Luke’s already up and out of the bed, rummaging around in his suitcase for something to put on. He looks soft in the morning light streaming in through the curtains, all blonde and tousled curls and sleep-soft skin. Luke stands up, clutching his shirt and leather pants close to his chest. Calum sits up, beckoning Luke over to press another soft kiss to his lips. 

Luke giggles. “What was that for?”

“Just wanted to say I love you.” Calum shrugs. Luke giggles again, shaking his head, and heading into the bathroom. Luke always makes Calum a little weak, as ethereal and lovely as he is. Calum is still a little dazed that Luke loves him, wants to be with him too. Luke with his golden heart and voice, who’s special and wonderful, thinks that Calum is just as magical and charming. Michael says it’s disgusting how cute they are, but Calum doesn’t mind if it means he gets to give Luke kisses and see him blush.

Calum gets up out of bed, checking the weather on his phone and pulling out what he thinks is probably an appropriate shirt and jeans for the brisk May day. He’s just finished putting on his boots when Luke breezes out of the bathroom, tucking the ends of his shirt into his pants. He looks up at Calum, grinning brightly when they make eye contact. He presses a kiss to the corner of Calum’s mouth as he brushes by and bends down to grab his boots. Calum takes his turn in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face, fluffing his curls until Luke starts knocking impatiently on the door, like he’s not the worst offender of taking forever to fix his hair.

Luke already has his jacket on when Calum opens the door, bouncing excitedly on the heels of his boots.

“Are you finally ready?” 

“I’m not the one who had to fix his hair in the mirror and put on all his rings,” Calum teases, just to see Luke smile and flush. He grabs Calum’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he tugs him out the door. 

The trek from their hotel to the museum isn’t far. Luke hums the whole way, swinging their linked hands between them as he goes. There’s a gentle breeze, blowing Luke’s curls around his face and Calum isn’t sure he could describe how in love with him he is at the moment. 

“What are you thinking about? You look pensive.” 

Calum shrugs. “Just wondering what your plan for the day is. You spent all that time online; it seemed like you had an idea.” 

“The Impressionist exhibit. It’s got all the flowers and water scenes. The ballerinas. It’s so dreamy. I wanna see that wing. More exciting than the Revolutionary paintings.” 

“What, you don’t wanna look at pictures of dead white guys in wigs?” Calum teases, bumping shoulders with Luke when he shoots Cal a horrified expression. 

“Don’t even joke, Cal. Not when there’s art on the line.” 

Calum holds his hands up in mock surrender, grinning when Luke sticks his tongue out at him. They pass by some local coffee shop and Calum pulls them in, ordering them both coffees and a muffin to eat while walking. Calum likes this Luke best, the one who shoves the too big end of a blueberry muffin in his mouth, blushing when Calum laughs at how silly he looks with his cheeks puffed out. This Luke is uninhibited, unafraid of what he looks like to other people. It’s rare to catch him like this, but it’s a gift when he is. He swallows the bite, blushing harder when Calum leans over and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?”

“You looked cute. Thought you deserved a kiss.”

Luke ducks his head, failing to hide his grin. Calum turns, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Luke presses a quick kiss to Calum’s cheek, turning away just as quickly to stare straight ahead. Calum smiles, sappy, soft, and in love. 

They continue their walk to the museum, Luke getting visibly more excited the closer they get. He’s fully bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time it comes into view, tugging on Calum’s hand to get him to speed up. Calum laughs, letting Luke practically drag him up the steps of the museum. Calum stops when he sees the statues out front, giant stone baby heads.

“Luke, what the fuck are those?” Calum asks, laughing as he points at them. Luke makes a face when he sees them, visibly distrubed. Calum laughs even harder at that, letting Luke tug him up the steps. Other patrons keep shooting them looks but Calum can’t be bothered, too focused on the look of determination and elation on Luke’s face.

Luke buys their tickets, grabbing a map as they leave the front desk. He stares intensely at it before turning to Calum.

“Cal, I have no fucking clue where to go.”

Calum takes the map from him, turning it until it’s lined up with where they are and pointing them in the direction of where they should go. He takes them up the back staircase to the third floor, realizes it’s the wrong floor, and takes them back down before recognizing that this is a different staircase and he’s not sure where they are. Luke huffs, taking the map from Calum and proceeding to get them even more lost going back up yet another staircase. 

One of the museum guards must take pity on them, watching them go in yet another lap around the floor for the third time, each pointing in opposite directions of where they should go. She comes over to them, asking them where they’re trying to go. She manages to point them in the direction of the correct staircase to the floor they’re looking for and Luke thanks her profusely, tugging Calum off in that direction. He takes the stairs two at a time, bursting through the door and dragging Calum through the wing.

“Don’t you want to stop and see the other stuff?” Calum asks, grinning cheekily and pointing at some Revolutionary War painting. Luke hums.

“Yeah, yeah it’s another painting of a white dude in a bad wig,” Luke says dismissively as he speedwalks through the maze of exhibits until the edge of some ballerina statue comes into view.

Luke barely manages to keep himself from running across the museum floor into the room. He comes to a stop in front of the ballerina, mouth open in a soft “o” of wonder as he looks at her. Calum figures he should be looking at the art, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Luke’s face, full of reverence and joy standing there. Luke stares at the statue for a few more moments until he tugs Calum over to a painting of more ballerinas. He starts reading the little plaque out loud, rambling on about Degas and ballet and the meaning of the painting. Calum continues to stare at him, talking animatedly and enraptured by the painting.

“Did you just hear a word I said?” Luke asks, turning to Calum, huffing exasperatedly. 

“Too busy looking at you and how happy you are,” Calum answers honestly. Luke blushes bright red, ducking his head.

“You’re cheesy.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.” 

“We’re here for the art, Calum.”

“You are art. Besides, you’re much more interesting than any museum plaque.”

Luke blushes, burying his face into Calum’s shoulder. “You’re not allowed to be cute in the museum right now. I can’t take it.”

“Too bad, you’re already the cutest thing in this museum. They should make a statue of you.”

Luke whines, smacking him again, “You’re a menace.”

Calum laughs loudly, Luke smacking and shushing him again when people look over at them. They walk around the wing a few more times, Luke staring intensely at each painting and plaque, pouring over each one. Eventually Calum sits down on one of the benches, waiting until Luke is satisfied with his viewing and comes to sit down next to him. They sit there for a while, Luke still looking around, Calum looking at Luke.

Luke sits up straight, turning to Calum. “Ready to go?”

Calum nods and stands, taking Luke’s hand and they make their way back down to the ground floor. They stop at the gift shop and Calum buys Luke a handful of postcards of the art they’ve seen. Luke protests, but Calum insists that it’s important to remember the day.

They make their way back to the hotel, Calum checking messages from Ashton and Michael while Luke giggles along to the messages Calum reads out loud. They stop at the coffee shop again, this time grabbing sandwiches to go with their coffee. They sit down at a table off in the corner, wrapping their feet together under the table as they eat.

“Thanks for going with me,” Luke says. Calum smiles, reaching over to lace their fingers together.

“Of course, sweetheart. I just love spending time with you, making you happy. I’m glad we got to have this date.” Calum lifts Luke’s hand up, kissing the back of it. Luke giggles, glowing in the light coming in through the cafe windows. Calum loves their jobs, loves the band, but sometimes he loves this more, getting to spend these private, quiet moments with Luke, happy and in love.

[jacksonxschuester]

I Owe You a Painting || Jacksher

Date: September 20th, 2020 Who: Jackson and Asher @asherkarofsky Description: Jackson delivers the painting he did for Asher, as a thank you for the easel Asher made for Jackson, which was a thank you for... you get the point. Jackson then helps Asher make his suite feel a little more like home Note: Not finished, but it’s cute and I want it on the dash. 

Jackson had actually finished the painting a few days ago, but he'd gotten ambitious and decided to try oil paints for this piece, and he'd wanted to give it lots of time to dry before delivering it. Taking inspiration from some Bob Ross episodes, he'd created a sweeping prairie landscape with a duck pond and a farm house. There were a few trees and bushes and flowers, but plenty of open blue sky and a worn, homely feel to the house. He'd painted it on a 18" x 24" canvas and had signed his name in the bottom corner. Overall, he was pretty proud of how it turned out, but he was still a little nervous about Asher's reaction to it as he stood outside the Dom's door and knocked. He hoped it would be well recieved.

Everyone had told him he would settle in and get more things and that the giant suite wouldn't feel so giant anymore. That had not happened yet. Mostly he ate in the cafeteria and spent any time out of classes in bed sleeping. Today he'd decided to do some whittling in his suite since the workshop didn't have the light he needed. There were small curls of wood on the kitchen bar where he was working. He'd just put the small creature on the bar top to look at when there was a knock on the door. He opened it wondering who would be coming to see him. He was happy to see that it was Jackson. He just didn't know what to say. "Hi." He even waved before feeling awkward and letting his hand drop. "Oh... oh come in."

Jackson forced a smile onto his face when he saw Asher. "Hi." He greeted, and stepped in when he was invited. He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then remembered the reason for his visit. "I um... I finished it." He said, turning the painting around in his hands for Asher to see. "It's my first attempt with oil paintings, so it's not perfect, but I hope you like it and even if you don't it's okay because I can always try to do a better one..." He rambled.

Asher hadn't expected to get the painting yet. Surely Jackson had so much other more important things than him, but here it was right in front of him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the painting was perfect. "It... it's perfect. It's exactly like the place I dream of having some day. Like that's exactly it." He reached out for the painting but hesitated. "Can I... Is it okay to hold it?"

Jackson's expression shifted into a softer, more genuine smile as Asher took in the painting. He was relieved that the Dom seemed to like it. "Yeah, it's totally dry, you can hold it." He assured. "You really do like it?" He asked, seeking confirmation and reassurance.

"Like it? No. I love it." He carefully took the painting in his hands walking closer to the large living room window to see it in the light. "How did you know this was exactly what I saw in my head? I have this dream... kind of dumb I know, but I'd love to own a place like this someday. A place to call my own, you know?"

"I didn't know." Jackson shrugged. "I just ran with the idea you gave me and this is what came out. It does look like a nice place to live though. Peaceful..." His smile turned sad as he realized he'd never even given any thought to the type of house he'd like to have someday. Not since Steven had passed, anyway. "I hope you get to have a place like this in the future, Sir."

"Yeah peaceful." He turned to the other man. "I hope so. Gotta be careful with dreams though." He hated that he couldn't just be one of those hopeful, optimistic people. He blames his parents for ruining that for him. "Will you help me figure out the best place to hang it." He looked around at the suite. It was very.... white. The painting would start to make this place feel a little like home.

Jackson nodded, "Of course I'll help." He said, glossing right over the bit about being careful with dreams. He'd given up having any sort of dream himself. He didn't want to bring Asher down by talking about that. "What about that wall there?" He pointed to one of the walls in the living room. It was opposite the couch, so that you could see it if you were sitting there, and the shape and size of the canvas was very appropriate to the size of wall it was

He nodded. He realized instantly that if he was on the couch he'd be able to see it and also it there it would be visible as soon as he walked in the door. "Here hold it. I'll get my tools." He went to the kitchen bar, but stopped and turned back to look at Jackson. "Thank you. Thank you for this." He grabbed his tools and walked back over. Gesturing around the suite, he laughed. "As you can see I'm not so good at, decorating. Personalizing." That was the better word. He didn't need 'decorating' but he did sort of crave personalization in his life.

Jackson waited patiently while Asher grabbed his tools, and upon observation he found that Asher's statement was accurate. There weren't a lot of personal touches around the place, except for the pile of wood shavings and some sort of carving on the counter. Jackson assumed that's what he'd been working on when he arrived, but now that he knew the wood shavings were there he was itching to sweep them up and put them out of sight. "I could help you with that, if you like?" He offered suddenly, unsure of exactly way. Maybe he just needed to feel like he was useful, needed by someone.

Ash was pulling out his small hammer and some finishing nails that should do the job to hold up the painting when Jackson spoke again. "Hmm? Oh.. oh really? You'd do that?" He looked around again. "Don't even know where to start." He shrugged and kept his gaze down on the hammer in his hands that he was spinning around. "Used to have a little picture of me an' Silas and Dave as kids, but I lost it." It had been the only thing he'd had to remind him of his family. And losing it was the very last time he ever cried.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind." He said. "Is there a way to find a copy of that picture, maybe? Would Silas or Dave have a copy?" He asked, already planning on asking Silas for any photos of Asher as a kid to frame. "We could also paint the walls to whatever colours you like, and add things related to stuff you like." He motioned over to the carving on the counter. "Do you do a lot of that sort of thing? You could display your work on your bookshelves and such.

"Don't know. Maybe Dave. Si kind of left in a hurry. Don't think our folks let him bring much when he came here." He frowned. "They won't mind me paintin'?" He been worried about the holes he was about to put in the wall and already had a plan on how he'd repair those when the time came. He laughed and smiled at Jackson. "Don't if they're as good as all that, but might be nice to look at 'em." He looked over at the creature on the bar. He found a lot of happiness in making them even as silly as they were.

Jackson made a note to check with Dave, also. Just in case. "They don't mind paint and things like hanging pictures or hooks or decor, they just don't want anyone doing extensive damage that'll cost a lot to repair or render the suite unusable for any period of time." He informed, remembering one incident when he was a teenager that his father got very heated about. "One time a student knocked out a couple of walls to combine all the bedrooms together. My father was not pleased. That was way before I came here, though." Curious, Jackson made his way over to the counter. "Give yourself a little credit, not everyone can carve things out of wood like this. I'm sure they're..." He trailed off when he saw what the little creature was. A tiny bird sat on the countertop near the pile of shavings, and Jackson felt his heart jump into his throat. "... great." He finished his sentence, carefully picking up the carving and examining it closer. The word pajarito played over and over in his head in Mateo's voice, 'little bird' it meant. The tears were stinging at his eyes despite his valiant effort to make them stop.

Asher's eyes went wide. Knocking down the walls was a huge undertaking and could actually be downright dangerous. Generally with a large building like this the load bearing walls were all around the outside, but still. "I don't even use the space I have. Can't imagine needing more. "They aren't too hard. Learned when I was a boy. They do..." He noticed that Jackson had stopped talking and that he had tears in his eyes. "Sugar, are you okay?" He dipped his head to get in between the other man and the small wooden bird taking shape out of the wood.

Jackson took in a shuddering breath and tried very hard to steady his emotions. "Fine. I'm fine." He insisted, despite it not being true in the slightest. "It's nothing. It's a stupid thing, actually." He rambled. "Little bird is the nickname Sir Mateo gave me, that's all." He said, knowing Asher would want an explanation, but Jackson felt really stupid for such a small thing affecting him this much. Sometimes it hit him like a sack of bricks, the magnitude of losing yet another Dom, and in those moments Jackson found it really hard to breathe.

Asher didn't hesitate for a moment. He snatched the bird off the counter and shoved it in his pocket. "It's not stupid." He obviously had no idea of this reaction when he decided to carve a bird, but he hated that it had caused him to remember this pain. "I'm sorry."

Jackson shook his head. "It is stupid. And it's not your fault." He insisted, and then his hands where against his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. He hated how fragile  he was. He took a few steps away and took a breath, "I'm sorry..."

Asher didn't want to argue but he didn't think it was stupid at all. He'd never been in love before and he couldn't image having it and losing it. That whole 'better to have and lost' seemed like bullshit to him. He stayed quiet for a while and then spoke in a quiet voice. "Wanna get this painting up and then help me pick out my next carving should be?"

Jackson could feel his skin start to break under his fingernails, and the sharp pain brought him a brief moment of respite from the mental pain. He heard Asher speak and for a moment, he wasn't sure what the Dom had said. He turned, wiping at his eyes. "Maybe I should just go?" He asked, not wanting to further bring Asher's mood down.

Ash saw the way Jackson's body was stiff Nd he was scratching roughly at his arm. It must have hurt the way he was pressing in. "I really like having you here, but don't wanna make you stay if you're feelin' uncomfortable." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can I walk you home? Make sure you're safe."

Safe. The word rung hollow in Jackson's ears. Sure, he might be away from any immediate harm, but safe? Could he really count himself as safe until he was claimed? Mateo had promised him safety... he had promised to do whatever it took to include Jackson in his family, but when the time came it turned out there was a line he wouldn't even consider crossing. Jackson realized it had been a minute or two since Asher had spoken, and he still hadn't replied. "Um... I... I'll stay if you want. You needed help, right? I can help. I can be useful." The words were mostly spilling from his mouth as they came into his head, no filter in between to remind him what was socially appropriate and what was not.

Ash wished he was his brother in this moment. Silas would have the words to comfort Jackson. But he just waited. "You've been so damn helpful to me Jackson. I gotta tell you, don't really got friends." He shrugged. "You're probably not supposed to decide this one sided, but you're my best friend Jackson. Don't know what I woulda done here without you. So yeah, if you want to stay, I could use your help." He didn't know if that meant Jackson was useful, but it damn well did mean he was needed. Asher really needed him.

Jackson felt himself tear up again. Asher considered him his best friend? It felt good, but it also made him feel a little guilty. Should he be putting more into this friendship than he has been? Asher really must not have had many friends if he considered Jackson to be the best one... He wiped at his eyes again and just nodded. "Okay... I'll stay." He said softly. "Tell me what you need me to do, Sir."

Ash smiled. He felt like he'd maybe unwittingly manipulated Jackson to stay, but it was hard to muster any guilt over that. For whatever reason, he just felt like his friend belonged right there for the time being. The suite felt like something more than a place to rest from time to time when he was there. "Let me just tap a nail in here." He did just that and then hung the painting up before looking over at Jackson. "So is it straight?"

Jackson just watched as Asher hammered in the nail and hung the painting. He let out what could only be described as a half chuckle/half sniffle. "It's about as straight as I am." He informed, which was to say, not at all. "Needs to go a little to the left."

Ash let out a snort. The years away from his parents and their church as well as the same years spent working side by side with all sorts of people had freed him from most of his prejudices. The ones that remained only seemed to direct inside toward himself. He liked that the chuckle sounded even if there was a bit of a sniffle with it. It hinted at what a joyful sound he would make if he was truly happy. He tilted it to the left. "How's that?"

Jackson gave a thumb's up as he used the other hand to wipe his eyes. "Much better." He said. "Probably as good as you'll get it without using a level, anyway." He added.

"I'll probably order a better hanger. 'Fraid the nail will damage it long run. I'll get some wire and do it up right. Then I'll use a level." He stepped back and stood next to Jackson. "Ain't that beautiful. Best thing I've ever owned." He looked over to his friend. "So I got a bunch of these little wooden critters. But some's better than others. Help me pick some for the shelves?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Then I got some of that casserole you made me. We could share some if you want. Maybe watch somethin' on the tv?"

It warmed Jackson's heart that Asher loved the painting enough to think about things like whether or not the method of hanging would damage it. He had to admit, he liked the way it looked in this room. It was just a touch homier now, and soon Jackson hoped to make this place feel like a home to Asher. He got the sense that Asher didn't feel at home here yet, and that made him sad. "Sure, let's look at them." He said, "That all sounds good, Sir." He offered a smile. It was small, only lasting a second or two, but it was genuine.

"Hang on. Be right back." He had realized at the last moment that his room was in no state for Jackson to see it. Usually he was quite neat. After all it was easy to be neat when you didn't have a lot of things. But that morning he had been in a hurry to get to class and he knew for a fact there was a pair of underwear right there in the middle of the floor. He scooped them up and tossed them in the hamper on his way to grab his duffel bag. The little wooden figures rattled around inside. Once back he sat on the couch and unzipped the bag. And started to pull the little creatures and set them out one next to the other. "I know they're kinda silly."

Jackson sat on the couch while he waited, trying to calm his mind and heart. His fingernails naturally found their way to his skin again, using the sharp little pains as a distraction tool until he felt less like bursting into tears at any moment and more focused on his actual surroundings. When Asher returned, he tugged a sleeve over his arm to hide a particularly bad spot. As the little wooden figures made their appearance, Jackson's eyes widened. "They're not silly at all, Sir." he assured, "They're amazing..." He reached out for one, gently lifting it to get a closer look. "Is this... Vulpix? Like from Pokemon?" He asked.

Asher wasn't the type to blush and he didn't quite blush now, but he looked a lot more like an a shy boy then he ever did. "Oh... umm, yeah. Used to love Pokemon when I was little." He still loved it clearly, but it felt safer to couch it in terms of a childhood thing. "The folks decided Pokemon were demons and wouldn't let us watch." He shrugged. "Guess just feels good to defy 'em."

Jackson smiled, picturing a young Asher and Silas sneaking over to a friend's house to watch Pokemon after school. "I used to love Pokemon too. Still do, sorta. Guess I'm not as into it as I once was, though." He admitted. "These are really cute though." He said, looking over the rest of the figures. "I think you should display them all, honestly."

"I should give the Pokemon one's to Si. He loves all that stuff." He picked up the bundled up little koala bear and handed it to Jackson. "Okay. I'll put 'em on the shelf. Better than bangin' around in my bag huh? But umm... would you take this one?" It was like how he felt Jackson should be... bundled up and protected.

Jackson carefully took the little bear, smiling at it. "Are you sure?" He asked, already kind of in love with the little figurine. He wasn't particularly attached to bears or anything, but he adored the way this one was all cozied up, and the fact that Asher had made it made it all the more special.

"Positive. It'll make me happy and proud knowin' you got him." He smiled and nodded. "So which do you think you'd like doin' more..." He had taken some time to research OCD and there was this thing he read about how control over tasks was super important. "figuring out how they should look on the shelf or heatin' up the food? Or we could to 'em both together."

Jackson nodded. "I'll keep him safe, Sir. I promise." He said, and then at being given the option, Jackson blinked. He wasn't used to that. Normally, Doms would just give him an order and he'd happily follow it, feeling happy to at least be useful. "Um.. I could put these up on the shelf, Sir." He said, knowing he'd get an immense amount of satisfaction from deciding how to arrange them in the most aesthetically pleasing way.

"Cool." He chuckled. "Was hoping you'd say that. Don't know where to start with that kinda thing." He figured that because the food was prepared by Jackson, he would feel comfortable eating it. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out the food and then suddenly had a thought. He left the food in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cleaner and gave the counters and microwave a good once over, even though they were already clean to his eyes. He scooped the wood shavings and put them in the garbage before finally starting to reheat the casserole. He would occasionally look out over the kitchen bar to where Jackson was working. The suite felt like so much more than just a place in that moment.

Jackson immediately set to work, teaking hte figures and spacing them out along the shelves. He decided it would be best to have them throughout the whole room, it would help unify it a little, as well as give the whole room a personal touch rather than just one section. He kept like figures together, like the ones wrapped up in little wooden blankets like his koala were together. And the pokemon ones, while he was sure some were destined to go to Silas, he put on display for now as well. Sea creatures had their own shelf while terrestial creatures were on another. He couldn't resist, however, putting an owl next to a little wolf. He debated whether he should ask Asher for the little bird, and put it with them so they could all at least be together in one form, but somehow it felt wrong. He had taken notice of how Asher had cleaned his kitchen and microwave before starting, and he felt a flutter of fond appreciation grow in his chest for the man. He was taking a lot of extra steps, clearly for Jackson's benefit, and it made him feel really welcomed and important. He hadn't felt like that in a while.

He hadn't once eaten at the actual table, choosing instead the bar on the occasions when Jackson has brought him one of his always delicious meals. It feels appropriate to have his first meal in the place with Jackson. Once the casserole was hot enough he looked for something to go with it. The cupboards were pretty much bare, but he did find some bottled waters. He went through the cleaning process for the table and then set out two plates, the casserole with a serving spoon, and the bottled waters before making his way over to the living room. "Wow." He looked around and it honestly seemed like a different place. "Looks like someone actually lives here."(edited)

Jackson had just taken a step back to examine his work, and like always, he was finding tiny little flaws and details and was now making micro-adjustments to the configuration of a few of the figures when Asher came back into the room. Despite it not being perfect yet, the fact that Asher seemed to like what was going on so far made Jackson relax just a tiny bit. Maybe he didn't need to adjust everything to perfection today. He did finish with the figures he was working with though, before he stepped back. His eyes caught the little wolf with the little owl again, and he had to force himself to turn away. When was it going to stop hurting so much, he wondered? Every little thing seemed to remind him of what he'd lost, and distractions only lasted a few moments before he was reminded yet again. "You like it?" He asked Asher, not fishing for compliments, but rather fishing for another distraction. Anything, really, to keep his mind from spiralling any further.

"I really do. Feels like a home." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Never really looked at my stuff all at once. They're not too bad huh?" The little critters had been his secret friends, but he'd never really 'looked' at them. "Thanks. Wouldn'tna done it myself." He rubbed his neck again. "Got food ready. Wanna eat."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "They're amazing, Sir." He assured. They really brighten up the place." He stated, and as he looked over at the table he was endeared by how Asher had even set the table and everything. "Yeah, let's eat." He agreed, making his way over to the table to sit.

Asher hurried over to pull out a chair for his guest. He suddenly felt like this place was more than just four walls. It was his home. A home that Jackson had helped him build. It all started with that painting. As he pulled out his own chair and sat he looked over at the painting and smiled. "This is the first time I had someone over for dinner." He didn't mean just here at Lima. He'd lived a solitary life since leaving home. Sure he'd go to a bar with co-workers or grab some food off the roach coach with them, but sharing a meal in his own home? This was a first. And he liked it. "So... umm.... how's classes going?" Alright so he needed to work on his small talk.

Jackson sat down and offered an awkward smile in thanks for Asher pulling the chair out for him. The switch picked up his fork and began to slowly separate the components of his food. It wasn't something he did all the time, but it was a habit that carried over from his childhood. If he wasn't feeling particularly hungry, he would take his time sorting his food, and eat by making sure he had a little bit of everything in each bite. It took way longer, but often his mind was so engaged in it he'd be able to get a good portion of it down before he had to stop. "Classes are... well, I don't think I'm failing, at the very least." He finished, realizing he was behind on at least two assignments already and there was some reading he had to do for a different class.

Ash watched as Jackson picked apart the casserole organizing all of the ingredients. He knew it wasn't because the food was bad. One, because it was delicious and more importantly because he made it. If Asher had made it he'd be worried. He figured it was something else... probably still feeling the pain about this guy he'd broken up with. He at casserole while listening. "I was never very good in school and it's been years now. Just weird getting used to homework. Homework! I'm too old for homework." He exaggerated hoping he could maybe bring a smile to his friend's face.

[bladengineer]

Petition to have more stories of Bryan in his classes as teacher PLEASE GIVE THEM TO US

i should include them in a loud house as a snippet of the future

OKAY BUT LIKE. I JUST LOVE BRYAN AS A TEACHER SO MUCH DO YOU ALL HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FUCKING FUNNY THAT WOULD BE

this guy

this fucking guy

okay listen Bryan is like this mid-twenty something year old literature/arts teacher in a high school

he’s old enough that the kids respect him from the get-go (if not, he’s quick to pull his Low-key Murder Face that’s enough to make little kids cry on sight)

but also young enough to relate to their mid-life crisis at 15 because the school system sucks and society treats kids like shit

ANYWAY

all his classes are super wary of him because he looks like one minute away to crack someone’s spine clean in half, take all their ribs and build a new shelf with it

so, a few months pass of this fearful respect and the students picking up on his rather unconventional teaching methods

it isn't until Bryan one day snaps and throws the school assigned “safe” book they’re supposed to read out of the fucking window and went like “alright gang, fuck this” and just whips out his own copy of Fahrenheit-451 and begins reading to them, making them take notes on the key conflicts within the book and reviews them next class

that’s when the kids figure out their young teacher is nuts in the best way possible

after that, he’s popularity rises amongst his students and the other more traditional teachers continuously try to get him removed because he implements “bad ideas” within the students

fuck ‘em, he’s giving his students a voice and each of his literature classes nearly start a damn revolution with him every time

it’s fantastic

his art classes are a little quieter

he took one look at the required curriculum and what the students were supposed to present and torched the entire paper

during drawing time he sits down on his own easel and paints with them and his students love watching him

he’s like an angrier Bob Ross

one of his students told him that and he had to choke down tears at the compliment

whenever he needed to provide an example, he has the students gather around him so he can show them what exactly they’ll be learning and literally just let’s them freestyle it to all hell

they once had pottery as a subject and as expected it was a giant mess, they had to replace two windows, but holy shit it was one of the best classes ever – one particular student loved it so much she asked Bryan if she could use pottery as medium for her major

she got an A and went to a prestigious art school, Bryan has all the flyers to her galleries posted onto his classroom walls

Bryan is absolutely real with his students

he doesn’t sugarcoat shit and swears all the time and always tells his students what they need to hear

but by god he cares about his students so much because they’re all just mildly freaked out teenagers who feel like they have to brave the adult world all alone and Bryan just wants to help them find the right footing so they can become confident

so many students flock to him when they feel like they can’t turn to any adult about their questions that feel too silly or about worries that seem insignificant

and Bryan always takes the time to chat with them and help them out whenever he can, the school counsellor gets and influx of students admitting they need some guidance while also realising a good chunk of them rarely have to come by anymore

when the students finally managed to get the exact date of Bryan’s birthday, the first celebration they turned his classroom into a full on ballpit

Best. Birthday. Present. EVER

he still held his class in there, seated in a hot pink flamingo floaty while reciting Hamlet

he also cries at every graduation because over half of the students giving a speech include him in their thanks because he is an amazing teacher and an amazing person and Bryan.

and Bryan never thought he’d ever make it this far in life

[crimsonrae]

Bear and Birdie

Chapter Four

Summary: AU Howard only ever had Birdie to confide in as a child and Steve only ever had Bucky. So, what happens when more than just a supersoldier serum connects these people? Told in a collection of one-shots and flashbacks, rating subject to change.

Bucky BarnesxOFC

Rating: Mature

1936, Brooklyn, New York

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck as he watched the snow fall. It had to be one of the heaviest snowfalls he had ever seen and as more and more of the street was buried under the fluffy flakes he felt his stomach harden with dread. He never used to feel this way when it snowed. In fact, winter had been one of his favorite seasons as a kid. Snowball fights, sledding and giant snowmen were things he had looked forward to, but then he met Steve. Tiny Stevie, who loved winter as much as he did, but could not physically tolerate the harsh cold as well as Bucky.

A wheezy wet cough filtered through the apartment, causing Bucky to wince as he listened for the gasping breaths that would soon follow. He swore Steve was allergic to winter. It never failed. The cold would come and the cough would start and then the snow would fall and the fever came…every year like clockwork. This year, however, Bucky had prayed that Steve's inevitable sickness would not come. It was their second year out of the orphanage, but the first year that Steve would no longer be able to go to the nuns for medical help. At eighteen years old, Steve Rogers was officially too old to use the free medical services the church had provided for all its orphans. Though, Bucky had a feeling that many of the nuns would turn a blind eye for his sickly friend if he did show up at the clinic, but Steve was all about following the rules and would not take the services that were needed by the other kids. It made Bucky want to tear his hair out.

Heaving a sigh, he turned from his place at the window to go to his friend's room. Hopefully, he could convince Steve to take the blankets from his bed. One night in the cold wouldn't hurt the brunette. The sight that greeted Bucky when he entered was worse than he had anticipated. It seemed as if the cough and fever had come to welcome Stevie at the same time this year. The smaller man was curled up tight on his bed, his cheeks flushed with more color than Bucky had seen in a week while a slight sheen of perspiration glimmered in the low light of the room.

"Jesus Steve." Bucky murmured quietly as he moved to pull the thin blankets tighter around his friend.

"I'll be fine." Steve muttered weakly, as passive embarrassment fluttered over his face. The hacking cough that suddenly wracked the blonde's small frame belied his words.

Bucky bit back a sigh as he silently cursed his friend's pride. He couldn't help but wonder just how long Stevie had been feeling this ill. Over the short span of their lives, Bucky had come to learn that while Stevie was exceptionally honest about most things, when it came to his health he could hide anything until it became too bad and he had no choice, but to collapse. The brunette quickly left the room to grab the blankets from his bed. Stevie could shove his stupid pride.

"Bucky-"

His name was the only form of protest that Steve could utter when he came back into the room with the extra covers, before he silenced his friend with a glare, "Did you pick up your medicine from the drugstore?"

Bucky wasn't even sure why he asked, Steve never got his prescriptions filled. By the hesitant look in his friend's eyes, he knew that Stevie hadn't done it this time either.

"Stevie…" Bucky sighed, suddenly feeling more tired than he had any right to.

"We don't have the money, Buck." Steve defended quietly, no longer meeting Bucky's gaze, "Eating is a thing, you know?"

Bucky bit back a curse as he realized where the fresh milk and bread in the kitchen had come from…spare money, Steve had told him, "Stevie."

Steve nearly flinched at the harsh growl of his friend's voice, "I'm fine, Bucky."

"No, you're an idiot. Jesus, Stevie that money was for your medicine, not food. We can always find money for food." Bucky lectured not sure if he was more exasperated or angry.

"There just wasn't enough for the medicine, the price was raised again. I figured that what we did have would be better spent on food." Steve sighed as he tried to ignore the cough building up in his chest, "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is, Stevie. You should have said something about the cost." Bucky muttered, now sure he wanted to shake his friend. Didn't Stevie understand just how terrifying it was when he was sick? Some of what he thinking must have shown on his face as Steve glanced at him sorrowfully.

"I'm not gonna die from this, Buck…promise." Steve said softly as he tried to banish the look of abject worry from his friends face.

Bucky just snorted and shook his head, "Damn straight you won't or I'd have to bring you back to life and kill you, myself."

"Please -" Steve wheezed out, "Like you could take me."

The boy's eyes met briefly before they both broke composure and grinned. Bucky rolled his eyes, but pushed his ever flowing concern to the back of his mind, "You're still an idiot and you're missing the first snowfall."

"You mean that white, fluffy stuff? Seen it." Steve muttered dismissively as he held back a yawn.

Bucky noticed his drowsiness anyway, "Go to sleep, Stevie. You're making me tired."

"Yeah, yeah."

Bucky watched silently as his friend drifted back to sleep. His fingers sluggishly ran through his hair while he listened to Steve's labored breaths. It was going to be a long night. Despite, what Stevie said, he needed the medicine. He always needed the medicine. With practice stealth he left his friend's room and slipped into his dinky quarters to quietly rummage through his dresser drawers. It took him a few minutes to find what he wanted. He paused only briefly before letting his hands wrap around a small cardboard box.

It was a pathetic little thing. The corners had started to wear and the edges were a little crinkled, but it held the last thing Bucky had of his mother and father. Their wedding rings resided inside. He could not bring himself to pull lid off to stare at the shiny circles he knew were there. Instead he grabbed his coat and shoved the box into his pocket. They needed the money.

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"No."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, unable to make eye contact with portly man before him, "Mr. Parson…"

"No, Bucky." Franklin Parson said soundly as he leaned heavily against the table behind him. His gaze shifted down to the glass showcase of his pawn shop and onto the pitiful little cardboard box that resided on top. He nearly shook his head, he could not believe what the boy was asking of him.

"I need the money." Bucky stated roughly. He shifted again before letting his shoulders slump, "It's the only thing I have with any value."

Frank frowned as Bucky finally met his stare. He hated seeing the desperation in the boy's eyes, but it was the resigned weariness that bothered Frank more. He bit back a sigh as be grumbled to himself, "I'm not buying your parents rings. What do you need the money for anyway?"

Again Bucky looked away, an unhappy scowl painting his face, but Frank waited patiently. He did not get an answer, however. Bucky leaned forward and snatched the box from the counter before heading toward the door. Frank heaved a sigh at the boy's stubbornness, "How sick is he?"

The way Bucky tensed and nearly stumbled was all the answer that Frank needed, though the incredulous look that Bucky shot him was rather entertaining. He raised a mocking brow in response, "This isn't the first time you've been in here to sell something, Bucky. And it's always for Stephen."

Bucky bit his lip, "The price on his medicine was raised. His cough is getting worse and he has a fever."

This time Frank did not bother holding in his sigh before he stood straight to reach for his cash registered. He discharged the cash drawer and removed fifty dollars before pressing Bucky with a hard stare, "You are not selling those rings. You will work here the next few weekends to pay off this loan."

Bucky stared in surprise, his mouth moving soundlessly, "….Mr. Parson…"

"Just nod and say you understand." Frank grumbled tiredly as he waited for the younger man to take the money.

"I understand." Bucky murmured quietly as he slipped the money into his pocket. His smile came out more as a grimace and Frank knew that it was killing the kid's pride to be taking the money, "Thank you."

Frank waved him off in dismissal, "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here and help your friend."

Bucky turned on his heel and made for the door again before he came up short, "Why…why won't you take 'em?"

There was a brief silence as Frank studied the young man before him. He wondered if Bucky knew how much he looked like his father. He found himself leaning back against the table and crossing his arms. Huffing quietly, he smiled, "I wasn't always a pawn shop owner, boyo. I used to work down at Solomon's Jewelers when I was about your age and I remember your father. He worked himself silly to just put a down payment on those rings. He wanted to show your mother he wasn't some schmuck that he could take care of her. It took him almost a year to fully pay for both the rings and I'm not gonna let you throw 'em away. Even if it is for a good reason. When you find yourself a girl, then you can give away one of those rings."

Bucky's smile came a little easier as he nodded, "I'll see you Saturday, Mr. Parson…. Don't tell Stevie."

Frank rolled his eyes, but nodded his head, "Will you just go already, before I change my mind and ask for my money back."

"Yes, sir." Bucky quipped before slipping outside.

"Damn kids." Frank cursed quietly under his breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. He did not know what possessed him to help the kid out, but he suddenly had the feeling he wouldn't regret. He also had the feeling that it would be a long few weekends. He wished that Robert was still alive to see the man his son was becoming.

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If he could reached the handle without putting the bags down... Bucky shifted the weight of the bags in his arm as he approached the front door of his apartment. He didn't want to put the paper bags down, only to pick the crinkling paper up again. It would be too loud and he had no desire to wake Steve. He shifted again, this time hefting his leg up to balance one of the paper sacks on his knee before angling his body caddy corner to the door. He just needed a second to twist the handle. Biting down slightly on his tongue in concentration he shot his hand out and had the door open in a blink before hefting the balanced bag back into his arm. A triumphant grin stole across his face as he made his way into the dingy little apartment and toward the makeshift kitchen. Amusement shined in his eyes as he began to unload the groceries, he should take up a career as a cat burglar.

He chuckled quietly to himself and finished putting the food away before removing the medicine for Stevie. His smiled dimmed slightly as he grasped the cold glass bottle. A bittersweet reminder on how he was able to afford the groceries in the first place. His smile turned rueful as he realized that Frank had probably given him more than enough money for just that reason. Fifty dollars. Bucky had been able to get Stevie's medicine, some much needed food, and paid for the electricity and heating for the next few weeks. The apartment would be comfortable enough for Stevie to recover. He owed old man Parson big time.

"Buck? That you?" Steve's hoarse voice called from his bedroom.

The sound of shifting cloth and squeaking hinges reached Bucky's ears before he had a chance to reply, "Yeah, it's me. Got your medicine."

He made it to the bedroom's threshold before Steve had even made it halfway across the room. A quick glance told Bucky that Steve was already winded and tired. He should be back in bed. The bemused, admittedly slightly suspicious, look in his friend's eyes was hardly surprising, however. He had learned a long time ago that Steve hated being taken care of, he hated feeling incapable, and that little qualm only became worse when he was sick. He would have hell to pay if Stevie ever found out he tried to pawn his parent's wedding rings.

"Where'd you get the money for it?" Steve asked bluntly, knowing better than to beat around the bush with his best friend.

Bucky shrugged and smiled crookedly, "Who said I needed to pay? Susie Wheaton is working at the drugstore now and you know how she's sweet on me."

Steve snorted holding in a cough and rolled his eyes, "She doesn't like you that much."

"I'm wounded." Bucky responded dramatically with a hand clasped to his chest, "You don't think I can charm ole' Sue?"

"I think she hasn't forgiven you for going out with her sister and not her." Steve said dryly. A small smile fluttered over his mouth as Bucky winced at that particular memory, "So how'd you get it, Buck?"

"I managed to get an extra job. It's a temporary deal." Bucky said quietly as he carefully chose his words, "But I'll be working Saturdays for the next few weeks."

Steve sighed heavily, "Bucky…"

"Don't start, Stevie. It's not a big deal. We needed the money and you needed the medicine."

"You shouldn't have to do this just for me." Steve said wearily, a look of self-hatred passing through his eyes.

Bucky silently cursed, "Who said it was just for you? I happen to know of a cute blonde on the floor below us who would be just devastated if something happened to you."

A smile twitched at the corners of Steve's mouth, "Cady's three, I think she'll move on."

"You would leave me to deal with those crocodile tears." Bucky stated sagely as he passed over the bottle of medicine, "Go to bed, you look like hell."

"Love you too." Steve said drolly. Bucky barely made it to the door before hearing a whispered, "Thanks Buck."

"Anytime, Stevie."

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Kingston, New York 1935

The Stark home was eerily quiet as Elena sat stiffly in the great room. Aside from the regular Sunday dinner her family attended here, the last few times she had been inside had been when Howard had come home from school and was throwing some ridiculously lavish party. This place had always been loud and filled with people. Now, her mother resided on the sofa across the room with a handkerchief in hand as she practice her upset face for when the doctor came in with the news of Howard Senior's death. Fergus was pacing about, eyeing the antique furniture. Elena had no doubt he was pricing each item to pawn and cover his gambling debts.

Despite her family's disgusting faults, she could not help but acknowledge to herself that she was now the biggest sinner of the three of them. Her eyes followed her brother's movements as he paused before a particularly nice grandfather clock while out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother gasp and press her hand to her chest in mock despair. She felt the insane urge to laugh…they were all going to hell.

The door to the great room opened and everyone froze, expecting the doctor to come in with the horrible news. Instead, Mika, Howard Senior's manservant entered. He was as impassive as ever as he directed his soulful brown stare on Elena. For one horrifying moment, Elena was sure the man knew what she had done. Her breath caught in her throat as her stomach churned with guilt.

"Mr. Stark is on the phone for you, Miss. Turner."Mika's somber voice resonated through the room.

What – Elena blinked as her mind tried to process his words. Mr. Stark? He was upstairs in bed…dying. How could he possibly be – and suddenly the light bulb went on. Howard, her Howard, was on the phone. She stood quickly, well aware of the eyes of her mother and brother on her as she exited the room and followed Mika to the Stark home office. He paused outside the door and gestured for her to enter. His eyes never left her and Elena felt apprehension crawl through her veins as she gave him a tight-lipped smile and entered the office. He knew, she swore, he knew.

The door clicked shut as her hand wrapped around the phone's receiver and pressed it to her ear, "Howard?"

"Birdie, I'm at the train station. Has he…" The phone line crackled as she heard Howard sigh, "Has he been -"

"Pronounced dead? No." Elena supplied, she fidgeted and glanced at the closed door, "Umm, the doctor is with him now. It's just a matter of when."

There was a moment of still silence and she could just picture her cousin nodding to himself as he tried to figure things out, "Okay…alright…and no one suspects?"

She nibbled her lip as she tried to push away her paranoia, "I don't think so…but, Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Just…" she hesitated, "Just get here, okay? I feel like I'm going to lose it soon."

"I'll be there in an hour, Birdie." He replied quietly, "Just be you and if something happens…lie. You're the better liar of the two of us anyway."

She rolled her eyes, "You're so comforting."

"Aren't I?"

Elena could practically see the smirk playing on his lips, but despite his stupid remark, she felt a little better. The brat probably knew it too. She huffed a little, "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, I promise I'll be there."

The phone clicked and the dial tone hit her ears. Elena sighed and rubbed at her face. It was going to be a long day.

Her blue eyes drifted around the room before landing on her uncle's globe. Two bottles of booze resided inside, she knew. Her fingers twitched, she rarely drank before five. A personal rule of hers after being surrounded by so many drunks: her uncle, her mother, her brother, and at times her cousin. She was making an exception today. She knocked the cover of the globe off and pulled out a bottle of whiskey before snatching out the drinking glass. After a pouring of two fingers and a deep gulp later, Elena rested back in the office chair and allowed the warmth from the alcohol to soothe her. That was how Howard found her an hour later as he came striding into the office. He barely raised an eyebrow at the open bottle and simply found a glass for himself. He poured them both a decent amount of liquid before holding up his glass.

"Cheers." He knocked back the glass without even flinching before pouring himself another.

Elena tapped his leg, "Slow down. You can't be drunk for this."

Howard grunted in acknowledgement and slid his glass onto the desk, "Hiding?"

There was beat before Elena realized what he was talking about, "My family is driving me nuts. I'm pretty sure they've put a price tag on everything in the house. Your call gave me the chance to get away."

Howard snorted, "Has your mother completely forgotten that her brother has a son? Me?"

"You're sixteen. She thinks she can overrule you like she does Fergus." She pressed her glass of whiskey to her forehead, "This is insane."

Elena could feel her cousin's eyes boring into her, but she did not want to meet his pitying gaze.

"You didn't have to do it, you know?" His voice was a low, barely a gruff whisper, "I was more than willingly to handle this myself."

"Oh, please." Elena scoffed as she finally met Howard's gaze, "It would have taken years for you to do this by yourself. You're only home from school during the holidays and summer and 'he' always makes sure he has a business meeting to attend so he won't have to see you. It was easier for me to dose him. I'm here every weekend after all."

He could not hold her steely gaze for long. Howard looked away frustrated, he knew she was right. Ever since his father had sent him to boarding school two years prior, the man avoided him like the plague. To be honest, the arrangement had suited Howards just fine. He no longer had to explain the bruises that would mysteriously appear on his face, he no longer had to listen to his mother quietly weeping as her husband took her to task again. But then, he had lived with the thought that when his father had sent him away that his mother had finally taken the chance to leave. He had deluded himself into thinking she was living the high life somewhere on the west coast…far from harm.

His gaze sought out the bookcase across the room. On the second shelf, two books from the left, resided a secret cache that held his father's personal journal. The man wrote down everything in there…and Howard had found it. Seven months ago. That had been when he found out the truth. His mother had never left as he had thought. She tried, but his father…. His stomach churned and he closed his eyes as if to block out the words he had read.

Howard Senior had written down where he had buried her and Howard Junior had dug her up.

Annalisa Stark had rotted away in a shallow grave in some obscure cove off on the property with no one the wiser. He glanced back at Birdie to find her already watching him. She had to drag him away from the sight of his mother's body. She tried to protect him, but not even his cousin –his best friend could make that nightmare disappear. Annalisa Stark was not the only family member his father had killed either. Howard's hand reached for Birdie's. He was avenging his mother, Birdie was avenging her father.

"No one can know." Howard whispered.

Elena gave him a baleful look, "I wasn't planning on making the fact that we've been dousing your father with arsenic the past few months' common knowledge."

He scowled lightly at her as she took a sip from her glass. She sent him a fake smile, "Besides I wouldn't look good in prison stripes."

Howard snorted and took a drink himself.

Howard Stark Senior died three hours later. The doctor diagnosed it as weakened immune system brought on by the pneumonia he suffered almost a year previously. He had been sick quite often after that illness struck him. Never really recovering his old strength. No one suspected that he had been poisoned.

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[dexter-wells-beiste]

I Owe You a Painting || Jacksher

Who - @jacksonxschuester and @asherkarofsky Where - Asher’s suite When - A quite weeknight What - Jackson delivers the painting he promised to paint for Asher. He helps make the empty suite into more of a home. 

Jackson had actually finished the painting a few days ago, but he'd gotten ambitious and decided to try oil paints for this piece, and he'd wanted to give it lots of time to dry before delivering it. Taking inspiration from some Bob Ross episodes, he'd created a sweeping prairie landscape with a duck pond and a farm house. There were a few trees and bushes and flowers, but plenty of open blue sky and a worn, homely feel to the house. He'd painted it on a 18" x 24" canvas and had signed his name in the bottom corner. Overall, he was pretty proud of how it turned out, but he was still a little nervous about Asher's reaction to it as he stood outside the Dom's door and knocked. He hoped it would be well received.

Everyone had told him he would settle in and get more things and that the giant suite wouldn't feel so giant anymore. That had not happened yet. Mostly he ate in the cafeteria and spent any time out of classes in bed sleeping. Today he'd decided to do some whittling in his suite since the workshop didn't have the light he needed. There were small curls of wood on the kitchen bar where he was working. He'd just put the small creature on the bar top to look at when there was a knock on the door. He opened it wondering who would be coming to see him. He was happy to see that it was Jackson. He just didn't know what to say. "Hi." He even waved before feeling awkward and letting his hand drop. "Oh... oh come in."

Jackson forced a smile onto his face when he saw Asher. "Hi." He greeted, and stepped in when he was invited. He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then remembered the reason for his visit. "I um... I finished it." He said, turning the painting around in his hands for Asher to see. "It's my first attempt with oil paintings, so it's not perfect, but I hope you like it and even if you don't it's okay because I can always try to do a better one..." He rambled.

Asher hadn't expected to get the painting yet. Surely Jackson had so much other more important things than him, but here it was right in front of him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the painting was perfect. "It... it's perfect. It's exactly like the place I dream of having some day. Like that's exactly it." He reached out for the painting but hesitated. "Can I... Is it okay to hold it?"

Jackson's expression shifted into a softer, more genuine smile as Asher took in the painting. He was relieved that the Dom seemed to like it. "Yeah, it's totally dry, you can hold it." He assured. "You really do like it?" He asked, seeking confirmation and reassurance.

"Like it? No. I love it." He carefully took the painting in his hands walking closer to the large living room window to see it in the light. "How did you know this was exactly what I saw in my head? I have this dream... kind of dumb I know, but I'd love to own a place like this someday. A place to call my own, you know?"

"I didn't know." Jackson shrugged. "I just ran with the idea you gave me and this is what came out. It does look like a nice place to live though. Peaceful..." His smile turned sad as he realized he'd never even given any thought to the type of house he'd like to have someday. Not since Steven had passed, anyway. "I hope you get to have a place like this in the future, Sir."

"Yeah peaceful." He turned to the other man. "I hope so. Gotta be careful with dreams though." He hated that he couldn't just be one of those hopeful, optimistic people. He blames his parents for ruining that for him. "Will you help me figure out the best place to hang it." He looked around at the suite. It was very.... white. The painting would start to make this place feel a little like home.

Jackson nodded, "Of course I'll help." He said, glossing right over the bit about being careful with dreams. He'd given up having any sort of dream himself. He didn't want to bring Asher down by talking about that. "What about that wall there?" He pointed to one of the walls in the living room. It was opposite the couch, so that you could see it if you were sitting there, and the shape and size of the canvas was very appropriate to the size of wall it was

He nodded. He realized instantly that if he was on the couch he'd be able to see it and also it there it would be visible as soon as he walked in the door. "Here hold it. I'll get my tools." He went to the kitchen bar, but stopped and turned back to look at Jackson. "Thank you. Thank you for this." He grabbed his tools and walked back over. Gesturing around the suite, he laughed. "As you can see I'm not so good at, decorating. Personalizing." That was the better word. He didn't need 'decorating' but he did sort of crave personalization in his life.

Jackson waited patiently while Asher grabbed his tools, and upon observation he found that Asher's statement was accurate. There weren't a lot of personal touches around the place, except for the pile of wood shavings and some sort of carving on the counter. Jackson assumed that's what he'd been working on when he arrived, but now that he knew the wood shavings were there he was itching to sweep them up and put them out of sight. "I could help you with that, if you like?" He offered suddenly, unsure of exactly way. Maybe he just needed to feel like he was useful, needed by someone.

Ash was pulling out his small hammer and some finishing nails that should do the job to hold up the painting when Jackson spoke again. "Hmm? Oh.. oh really? You'd do that?" He looked around again. "Don't even know where to start." He shrugged and kept his gaze down on the hammer in his hands that he was spinning around. "Used to have a little picture of me an' Silas and Dave as kids, but I lost it." It had been the only thing he'd had to remind him of his family. And losing it was the very last time he ever cried.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind." He said. "Is there a way to find a copy of that picture, maybe? Would Silas or Dave have a copy?" He asked, already planning on asking Silas for any photos of Asher as a kid to frame. "We could also paint the walls to whatever colours you like, and add things related to stuff you like." He motioned over to the carving on the counter. "Do you do a lot of that sort of thing? You could display your work on your bookshelves and such.

"Don't know. Maybe Dave. Si kind of left in a hurry. Don't think our folks let him bring much when he came here." He frowned. "They won't mind me paintin'?" He been worried about the holes he was about to put in the wall and already had a plan on how he'd repair those when the time came. He laughed and smiled at Jackson. "Don't if they're as good as all that, but might be nice to look at 'em." He looked over at the creature on the bar. He found a lot of happiness in making them even as silly as they were.

Jackson made a note to check with Dave, also. Just in case. "They don't mind paint and things like hanging pictures or hooks or decor, they just don't want anyone doing extensive damage that'll cost a lot to repair or render the suite unusable for any period of time." He informed, remembering one incident when he was a teenager that his father got very heated about. "One time a student knocked out a couple of walls to combine all the bedrooms together. My father was not pleased. That was way before I came here, though." Curious, Jackson made his way over to the counter. "Give yourself a little credit, not everyone can carve things out of wood like this. I'm sure they're..." He trailed off when he saw what the little creature was. A tiny bird sat on the countertop near the pile of shavings, and Jackson felt his heart jump into his throat. "... great." He finished his sentence, carefully picking up the carving and examining it closer. The word pajarito played over and over in his head in Mateo's voice, 'little bird' it meant. The tears were stinging at his eyes despite his valiant effort to make them stop.

Asher's eyes went wide. Knocking down the walls was a huge undertaking and could actually be downright dangerous. Generally with a large building like this the load bearing walls were all around the outside, but still. "I don't even use the space I have. Can't imagine needing more. "They aren't too hard. Learned when I was a boy. They do..." He noticed that Jackson had stopped talking and that he had tears in his eyes. "Sugar, are you okay?" He dipped his head to get in between the other man and the small wooden bird taking shape out of the wood.

Jackson took in a shuddering breath and tried very hard to steady his emotions. "Fine. I'm fine." He insisted, despite it not being true in the slightest. "It's nothing. It's a stupid thing, actually." He rambled. "Little bird is the nickname Sir Mateo gave me, that's all." He said, knowing Asher would want an explanation, but Jackson felt really stupid for such a small thing affecting him this much. Sometimes it hit him like a sack of bricks, the magnitude of losing yet another Dom, and in those moments Jackson found it really hard to breathe.

Asher didn't hesitate for a moment. He snatched the bird off the counter and shoved it in his pocket. "It's not stupid." He obviously had no idea of this reaction when he decided to carve a bird, but he hated that it had caused him to remember this pain. "I'm sorry."

Jackson shook his head. "It is stupid. And it's not your fault." He insisted, and then his hands where against his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. He hated how fragile  he was. He took a few steps away and took a breath, "I'm sorry..."

Asher didn't want to argue but he didn't think it was stupid at all. He'd never been in love before and he couldn't image having it and losing it. That whole 'better to have and lost' seemed like bullshit to him. He stayed quiet for a while and then spoke in a quiet voice. "Wanna get this painting up and then help me pick out my next carving should be?"

Jackson could feel his skin start to break under his fingernails, and the sharp pain brought him a brief moment of respite from the mental pain. He heard Asher speak and for a moment, he wasn't sure what the Dom had said. He turned, wiping at his eyes. "Maybe I should just go?" He asked, not wanting to further bring Asher's mood down.

Ash saw the way Jackson's body was stiff Nd he was scratching roughly at his arm. It must have hurt the way he was pressing in. "I really like having you here, but don't wanna make you stay if you're feelin' uncomfortable." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can I walk you home? Make sure you're safe."

Safe. The word rung hollow in Jackson's ears. Sure, he might be away from any immediate harm, but safe? Could he really count himself as safe until he was claimed? Mateo had promised him safety... he had promised to do whatever it took to include Jackson in his family, but when the time came it turned out there was a line he wouldn't even consider crossing. Jackson realized it had been a minute or two since Asher had spoken, and he still hadn't replied. "Um... I... I'll stay if you want. You needed help, right? I can help. I can be useful." The words were mostly spilling from his mouth as they came into his head, no filter in between to remind him what was socially appropriate and what was not.

Ash wished he was his brother in this moment. Silas would have the words to comfort Jackson. But he just waited. "You've been so damn helpful to me Jackson. I gotta tell you, don't really got friends." He shrugged. "You're probably not supposed to decide this one sided, but you're my best friend Jackson. Don't know what I woulda done here without you. So yeah, if you want to stay, I could use your help." He didn't know if that meant Jackson was useful, but it damn well did mean he was needed. Asher really needed him.

Jackson felt himself tear up again. Asher considered him his best friend? It felt good, but it also made him feel a little guilty. Should he be putting more into this friendship than he has been? Asher really must not have had many friends if he considered Jackson to be the best one... He wiped at his eyes again and just nodded. "Okay... I'll stay." He said softly. "Tell me what you need me to do, Sir."

Ash smiled. He felt like he'd maybe unwittingly manipulated Jackson to stay, but it was hard to muster any guilt over that. For whatever reason, he just felt like his friend belonged right there for the time being. The suite felt like something more than a place to rest from time to time when he was there. "Let me just tap a nail in here." He did just that and then hung the painting up before looking over at Jackson. "So is it straight?"

Jackson just watched as Asher hammered in the nail and hung the painting. He let out what could only be described as a half chuckle/half sniffle. "It's about as straight as I am." He informed, which was to say, not at all. "Needs to go a little to the left."

Ash let out a snort. The years away from his parents and their church as well as the same years spent working side by side with all sorts of people had freed him from most of his prejudices. The ones that remained only seemed to direct inside toward himself. He liked that the chuckle sounded even if there was a bit of a sniffle with it. It hinted at what a joyful sound he would make if he was truly happy. He tilted it to the left. "How's that?"

Jackson gave a thumb's up as he used the other hand to wipe his eyes. "Much better." He said. "Probably as good as you'll get it without using a level, anyway." He added.

"I'll probably order a better hanger. 'Fraid the nail will damage it long run. I'll get some wire and do it up right. Then I'll use a level." He stepped back and stood next to Jackson. "Ain't that beautiful. Best thing I've ever owned." He looked over to his friend. "So I got a bunch of these little wooden critters. But some's better than others. Help me pick some for the shelves?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Then I got some of that casserole you made me. We could share some if you want. Maybe watch somethin' on the tv?"

It warmed Jackson's heart that Asher loved the painting enough to think about things like whether or not the method of hanging would damage it. He had to admit, he liked the way it looked in this room. It was just a touch homier now, and soon Jackson hoped to make this place feel like a home to Asher. He got the sense that Asher didn't feel at home here yet, and that made him sad. "Sure, let's look at them." He said, "That all sounds good, Sir." He offered a smile. It was small, only lasting a second or two, but it was genuine.

"Hang on. Be right back." He had realized at the last moment that his room was in no state for Jackson to see it. Usually he was quite neat. After all it was easy to be neat when you didn't have a lot of things. But that morning he had been in a hurry to get to class and he knew for a fact there was a pair of underwear right there in the middle of the floor. He scooped them up and tossed them in the hamper on his way to grab his duffel bag. The little wooden figures rattled around inside. Once back he sat on the couch and unzipped the bag. And started to pull the little creatures and set them out one next to the other. "I know they're kinda silly."

Jackson sat on the couch while he waited, trying to calm his mind and heart. His fingernails naturally found their way to his skin again, using the sharp little pains as a distraction tool until he felt less like bursting into tears at any moment and more focused on his actual surroundings. When Asher returned, he tugged a sleeve over his arm to hide a particularly bad spot. As the little wooden figures made their appearance, Jackson's eyes widened. "They're not silly at all, Sir." he assured, "They're amazing..." He reached out for one, gently lifting it to get a closer look. "Is this... Vulpix? Like from Pokemon?" He asked.

Asher wasn't the type to blush and he didn't quite blush now, but he looked a lot more like an a shy boy then he ever did. "Oh... umm, yeah. Used to love Pokemon when I was little." He still loved it clearly, but it felt safer to couch it in terms of a childhood thing. "The folks decided Pokemon were demons and wouldn't let us watch." He shrugged. "Guess just feels good to defy 'em."

Jackson smiled, picturing a young Asher and Silas sneaking over to a friend's house to watch Pokemon after school. "I used to love Pokemon too. Still do, sorta. Guess I'm not as into it as I once was, though." He admitted. "These are really cute though." He said, looking over the rest of the figures. "I think you should display them all, honestly."

"I should give the Pokemon one's to Si. He loves all that stuff." He picked up the bundled up little koala bear and handed it to Jackson. "Okay. I'll put 'em on the shelf. Better than bangin' around in my bag huh? But umm... would you take this one?" It was like how he felt Jackson should be... bundled up and protected.

Jackson carefully took the little bear, smiling at it. "Are you sure?" He asked, already kind of in love with the little figurine. He wasn't particularly attached to bears or anything, but he adored the way this one was all cozied up, and the fact that Asher had made it made it all the more special.

"Positive. It'll make me happy and proud knowin' you got him." He smiled and nodded. "So which do you think you'd like doin' more..." He had taken some time to research OCD and there was this thing he read about how control over tasks was super important. "figuring out how they should look on the shelf or heatin' up the food? Or we could to 'em both together."

Jackson nodded. "I'll keep him safe, Sir. I promise." He said, and then at being given the option, Jackson blinked. He wasn't used to that. Normally, Doms would just give him an order and he'd happily follow it, feeling happy to at least be useful. "Um.. I could put these up on the shelf, Sir." He said, knowing he'd get an immense amount of satisfaction from deciding how to arrange them in the most aesthetically pleasing way.

"Cool." He chuckled. "Was hoping you'd say that. Don't know where to start with that kinda thing." He figured that because the food was prepared by Jackson, he would feel comfortable eating it. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out the food and then suddenly had a thought. He left the food in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of cleaner and gave the counters and microwave a good once over, even though they were already clean to his eyes. He scooped the wood shavings and put them in the garbage before finally starting to reheat the casserole. He would occasionally look out over the kitchen bar to where Jackson was working. The suite felt like so much more than just a place in that moment.

Jackson immediately set to work, teaking hte figures and spacing them out along the shelves. He decided it would be best to have them throughout the whole room, it would help unify it a little, as well as give the whole room a personal touch rather than just one section. He kept like figures together, like the ones wrapped up in little wooden blankets like his koala were together. And the pokemon ones, while he was sure some were destined to go to Silas, he put on display for now as well. Sea creatures had their own shelf while terrestial creatures were on another. He couldn't resist, however, putting an owl next to a little wolf. He debated whether he should ask Asher for the little bird, and put it with them so they could all at least be together in one form, but somehow it felt wrong. He had taken notice of how Asher had cleaned his kitchen and microwave before starting, and he felt a flutter of fond appreciation grow in his chest for the man. He was taking a lot of extra steps, clearly for Jackson's benefit, and it made him feel really welcomed and important. He hadn't felt like that in a while.

He hadn't once eaten at the actual table, choosing instead the bar on the occasions when Jackson has brought him one of his always delicious meals. It feels appropriate to have his first meal in the place with Jackson. Once the casserole was hot enough he looked for something to go with it. The cupboards were pretty much bare, but he did find some bottled waters. He went through the cleaning process for the table and then set out two plates, the casserole with a serving spoon, and the bottled waters before making his way over to the living room. "Wow." He looked around and it honestly seemed like a different place. "Looks like someone actually lives here."

Jackson had just taken a step back to examine his work, and like always, he was finding tiny little flaws and details and was now making micro-adjustments to the configuration of a few of the figures when Asher came back into the room. Despite it not being perfect yet, the fact that Asher seemed to like what was going on so far made Jackson relax just a tiny bit. Maybe he didn't need to adjust everything to perfection today. He did finish with the figures he was working with though, before he stepped back. His eyes caught the little wolf with the little owl again, and he had to force himself to turn away. When was it going to stop hurting so much, he wondered? Every little thing seemed to remind him of what he'd lost, and distractions only lasted a few moments before he was reminded yet again. "You like it?" He asked Asher, not fishing for compliments, but rather fishing for another distraction. Anything, really, to keep his mind from spiralling any further.

"I really do. Feels like a home." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Never really looked at my stuff all at once. They're not too bad huh?" The little critters had been his secret friends, but he'd never really 'looked' at them. "Thanks. Wouldn'tna done it myself." He rubbed his neck again. "Got food ready. Wanna eat."

Jackson nodded in agreement. "They're amazing, Sir." He assured. They really brighten up the place." He stated, and as he looked over at the table he was endeared by how Asher had even set the table and everything. "Yeah, let's eat." He agreed, making his way over to the table to sit.

Asher hurried over to pull out a chair for his guest. He suddenly felt like this place was more than just four walls. It was his home. A home that Jackson had helped him build. It all started with that painting. As he pulled out his own chair and sat he looked over at the painting and smiled. "This is the first time I had someone over for dinner." He didn't mean just here at Lima. He'd lived a solitary life since leaving home. Sure he'd go to a bar with co-workers or grab some food off the roach coach with them, but sharing a meal in his own home? This was a first. And he liked it. "So... umm.... how's classes going?" Alright so he needed to work on his small talk.

Jackson sat down and offered an awkward smile in thanks for Asher pulling the chair out for him. The switch picked up his fork and began to slowly separate the components of his food. It wasn't something he did all the time, but it was a habit that carried over from his childhood. If he wasn't feeling particularly hungry, he would take his time sorting his food, and eat by making sure he had a little bit of everything in each bite. It took way longer, but often his mind was so engaged in it he'd be able to get a good portion of it down before he had to stop. "Classes are... well, I don't think I'm failing, at the very least." He finished, realizing he was behind on at least two assignments already and there was some reading he had to do for a different class.

Ash watched as Jackson picked apart the casserole organizing all of the ingredients. He knew it wasn't because the food was bad. One, because it was delicious and more importantly because he made it. If Asher had made it he'd be worried. He figured it was something else... probably still feeling the pain about this guy he'd broken up with. He at casserole while listening. "I was never very good in school and it's been years now. Just weird getting used to homework. Homework! I'm too old for homework." He exaggerated hoping he could maybe bring a smile to his friend's face.

[kittysukagasterfics]

A Spooky Night

Note: Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you’re ready for a spook-tastical fic to read while munching on some sweets. Anyway, onto the fic!

Handplates belongs to: @zarla-s

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: It’s Halloween night and Gaster get roped into celebrating with Sam and the brothers. After  he wakes up from a horrific nightmare, can the Human convince Gaster that nothing’s wrong?

     It was late at night when Gaster entered the True Lab. He knew he should be back at his house in Snowdin sleeping, but he had too much work to get done. Alphys needed some reports done and even though she had said he could take as long as he needed on them, Gaster preferred not to procrastinate. The skeleton also hoped that Sam won’t give him give him too much of a hard time about it. The Human and the brothers should be asleep by now anyway so Gaster can just easily turn their scolding back on them if it comes to that.  Hopefully it wouldn’t though.

     Gaster then began typing on his phone, no longer paying attention to his surroundings. He only looked up when he heard what sounded like footsteps walking behind him. However, when the scientist stopped walking, the dim-lighted Lab grew eerily quiet once more.

    “...Must’ve just been an echo.”

     But when Gaster started towards his office again, the footsteps also started up again. But this time, they were coming at a quicker pace as if someone were running up behind him. Gaster felt his SOUL quicken and he got ready to summon an attack if needed Before he could turn around however, Gaster suddenly felt something tightly wrap around his waist...

    “*You yell out ‘Boo!’ in an attempt to scare Gaster.” ‘*It...didn’t really work out like you had hoped it would.’

    “Good evening to you too, Sam.”

     The skeleton sighed as he realized that the noise was just Sam, his human lover. As usual, they were up to their silly antics that will somehow involve him soon enough. It was very late for this though. Why were they still awake?

    “Human, you should have been in bed by no-”

     Gaster had turned around to face Sam only to find them...dressed up like him. They were wearing one of his sweaters that they had ‘borrowed’ from him. Along with the sweater, Sam was wearing his lab coat that he had left behind. The Human had also found his spare pair of eye glasses. The only piece of clothing that they were wearing that wasn’t his was their jean shorts. To go along with their whole attire, Sam was also wearing face paint that poorly resembled a skeleton, at least in his opinion. Although they looked kind of cute, it confused him as to why they were dressed like this.

    “Sam, why are you  dressed up like me? I mean, besides obvious reasons of course...”

    “*You reveal to Gaster tonight is Halloween and you’re celebrating with the brothers and Toby.”

     Before the scientist could ask anymore questions, Subjects 1 and 2 came into the room followed by Toby. He could see that the Human dressed those three up as well. 2-P had a white sheet with two eye holes covering him, probably to simulate a ghost of some sorts. 1-S also had face paint on but it’s made to resemble a cat. The babybones had on little cat ears that the Human no doubt gave to him to wear. Sam dressed up Toby as well, as a...sun?

    “Why is Toby...”

    “*You tell him that Toby’s a ‘hot dog’ now!”

    “...Oh, I see.”

     Gaster tried really hard not to laugh at the Human’s visual pun, especially since Toby was involved in it. His struggle was interrupted by Sam talking to him. They’re on their way to the kitchen with the brothers and Toby to bake Halloween-themed cookies and they want Gaster to join them.

    “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline that offer, Sam. I have a lot of work to do and I would like to get it done by tomorrow.”

     The Human had a concerned look on their face but only nodded in response. The four of them then left as Gaster walked towards his office.

~~~~~~

     The scientist groaned as he sat up from his desk. He must’ve fallen asleep while he was working, again. Well, now that he was awake, Gaster might as well get straight back to work. Or at least he would’ve if it wasn’t now pitch black.

    “A power outage? Ugh, as if I haven’t already wasted enough time...”

     It was almost impossible to see anything. Gaster had to actually feel around on his desk in order to find his phone so he could call Alphys. Once he found it, Gaster attempted to turn it on. Those attempts were futile as the device instead started flickering and glitching before turning off completely. Gaster was confused about this. He charged it to full power earlier, didn’t he?

    “Well, no matter. I need to find Sam and the br-Subjects anyway and bring them back here.”

     Getting up from his chair, Gaster began to feel his way around. Using the wall as a guide, he made his way towards the kitchen where he knew the Human and the brothers would be. After a couple of minutes of walking endlessly, the skeleton suddenly heard noises down the hallway and a small, dark figure moving towards him. Thinking it was Sam trying to find him, Gaster called out to them.

    “Sam, are 1-S and 2-P with you? I hope those two didn’t run off...”

    “M̴̠̆ṅ̸̝͓̈̿ṋ̴̓n̶̬̈́.̵͕͘.̷̗̘̿̅͜.̸̡̭͋̀̊ũ̶̡̲͙̉͊ṇ̴͂͝͠n̸̻͊͝n̵̼̪̈̽n̴̨̨̫̈́.̷̢̣̫̔̓.̸̹̣̯͝.̷̹̫̒̀̂”

     Sam didn’t answer him and only groaned in response. They must have gotten hurt somehow by the sound of it. Concerned, Gaster tried calling out to them again in hopes of getting an actual response.

    “Sam, you sound injured. Just come over here and I’ll try to help you...”

    “ḧ̵̞̣́ẹ̸̑̀ê̸͉̳͐ȇ̸̗ë̷̲́l̴͇̘̝̀̽.̴̧̯̍̔.̶̯̓͜.̴̦̃͜ủ̸̟̯͓̏u̷̡͘u̶͍͗̾u̶̻̪̇̋u̸̱̪̘̓u̵͎̗̓͝.̶̖͚̇.̷̡͈̞̄.̶̪́͝”

    “I am, Human, just-d-dear God...no...!”

     The dark figure wasn’t Sam at all. It was Subjects 1 and 2, or, what remained of the two anyway. They seemed to have melted together into some form of an amalgamation, still being able to move as one. Parts of them dripping onto the floor as they walked toward Gaster. His Subjects weren’t completely unrecognizable as Gaster could still make out features identifying which brother was which. Nevertheless, it was still a horrific sight to witness. How did this happen though?

    “A-Alright, you two, where’s Sam?”

    “Ș̶̞͑͆a̴̡̝̕a̸̧̮̖̽͗a̶̐͜a̵̼̜͇̿̾m̸̝͇̎̿͝m̶͚͚͖̎m̸͍̓m̴̖̀.̸̜́̄.̵͉̔.̸̮͕̲͋͘”

     The amalgamation suddenly summoned a sloppy bone attack, getting ready to launch it at the skeleton. Gaster took this as a sign to start running. As much as wanted to just attack and end it, Sam would have his skull for trying to hurt the brothers, abomination or not. 

     Gaster swore under his breath as he barely dodged a set of bones. Running down the hallway, he managed to make it into the cell room and slam the door shut just as the brothers caught up to him. He pressed his back against it trying to ignore the loud banging from the amalgamate trying to desperately get in. Gaster took a couple of deep breaths as multiple questions ran through his mind: How did the Subjects get to be like this? How was he going to fix this? And also, where on earth was Sam?! Suddenly, Gaster felt a tentacle wrap itself around his ankle and yank him upwards.

    “Wҽʅʅ, ɯҽʅʅ, ɯҽʅʅ...ιϝ ιƚ ιʂɳ'ƚ Wιɳɠ Dιɳɠʂ Gαʂƚҽɾ.”

     The tentacle belonged to some sort of eldritch monstrosity. Tar was dripping from its body as lifted Gaster up to face it. The scientist tried to summon a Blaster but the eldritch goop monster just slammed him into the wall. Gaster cried out in agony, feeling his arm snap upon impact. That would take some time to heal, if he can even get out of this situation that is. The monster only laughed at his expense and futile escape.

    “Gυҽʂʂ ყσυ ʂαɯ ɱყ ʅιƚƚʅҽ 'ʂυɾρɾιʂҽ' ϝσɾ ყσυ? Aɾҽɳ'ƚ ყσυ ιɱρɾҽʂʂҽԃ, Wιɳɠ Dιɳɠʂ?”

    “Where...Where’s Sam?!”

     The Goop Monster didn’t reply. Instead it just slammed the skeleton into the ground. Gaster gasped as he heard and felt his collarbone crack. Pain was shooting through his whole body. His working eye was flashing rapidly as he tried to focus on attacking the eldritch. This only caused it to laugh at him even more and point multiple tentacles directly at him ready to strike.

    “Hαʋҽɳ'ƚ ყσυ αʅɾҽαԃყ ϝιɠυɾҽԃ συƚ ƚԋҽ αɳʂɯҽɾ, Dσƈƚσɾ?”

     Gaster’s vision went dark as the black tar tentacles came down on him...

~~~~~~

    “*You ask the brothers what they think of this plushie.”

     Sam held up a plush toy that looked similar to a spider. The two babybones beamed as they ate the Halloween cookies with a glass of milk. Toby has fallen asleep from all the excitement, curling up under the table for his nap.

    “WOWIE, HUMAN SAM! YOU’RE REALLY GOOD AT MAKING THOSE SOFT THINGS!”

    “can ya make more of ‘em?

    “BROTHER! DON’T BE GREEDY!”

    “aww, but i want sam ta make more...”

     While the two skeletons bickered between one another, Sam was busy hanging up the plushie spider on a fake cobweb. That should be all the decorations now. The Human would be lying if they said they weren’t tired. They had been putting up decorations and sewing plush toys for the past hour so Sam was obviously exhausted. Hopefully Gaster would be done with his work soon and come join them for the celebration.

    “*You grabbed a cookie from the try when you hear someone walk in.”

     Gaster had entered the kitchen and Sam thought he looked a bit tired. However, the skeleton had just woken up in cold sweat from his nightmare. It took a lot of willpower to not jump up and run into the kitchen, which could’ve potentially startle the brothers and cause Sam to needlessly worry about him.

    “*You ask Gaster if he’s alright...”

     The scientist looked between each concerned face. Even Toby who had just woken up looked worried. His...family was safe. Safe and here with him,  worried about him. Letting out a sigh of relief, Gaster gave a smile smile as he let himself be guided over to the table and given a cookie and some coffee by Sam.

    “Yes, Human, everything is fine.”

     Unbeknownst to everyone, there was someone, or, something lurking in the darkness, hidden away and watching the family closely. The figure hummed in thought as it observed.

    “Wԋαƚ αɳ...ιɳƚҽɾҽʂƚιɳɠ ԃҽʋҽʅσρɱҽɳƚ.”

Note: Hehehe...hope everyone has a spoopy Halloween this year~ I also hope everyone enjoyed reading the fic! Thank you everyone so much for reading! I love all of you! Sweet dreams~

[rotten-dan]

Im here to listen for 20 hours, tell me everything you know about that mime

everything I know?

UHH well for starters he seems to be french, he seems like a very sweet dude in general, seems like values things like love, positivism and art, and likes to be a tad goofy taking in account things like the characters mentions of him (Wilson mentioning how uses dentures as “props” meaning that he might be kind of a joker or likes to put up an act and Willow saying how Wes pretends to ride a unicycle whenever she uses a certain trinket which for me is just very adorable and silly of him). All of that makes me think like he might be the one person who keeps the survivors in high spirits 

I assume he is an adult (I personally headcanon him to be 25) who is not only a performer but seems to be well versed in many arts, some of them including sculping and painting. The sculping prooved as he is seen sculpting Woodie’s figure on a piece of marble. and the painting one prooved on the description of a skin that says “he is an avid landscape painter” and he seems like someone interested in arts and crafts in general.

he has a big boy appetite that makes me go ‘same dude’ so it never has bothered me in gameplay lol and I think it’s a bit cute somehow, at least he is not picky about it!. maybe he just has a tiny tummy leave him alone.

going more into my headcanons…

I think he uses some kind of magic, being that not only can he blow up balloons and make em float and have shapes that there is no way a normal shaped balloon could have, not only can he pretend to ride a bike and float in the air, but he also can fucking row a boat with NOTHING but his miming, which for me is just “aright u got magic”.

I also headcanon that when Maxwell was trying to trick him into going into the constant Wes went into his jokester self and maxwell took it as if he was making fun of him and ended up trapping Wes in the constant like how we find him. The only clue to what really happened being a “He displeased me” from maxwell, but he is such a Lil bitch I believe it is just that simple of a problem. (sorry if u like maxwell, but u should expect hate for him in this blog unless u are not new?)

here is a fun fact and my favorite canon Wes content: 

now the fun fact: Wes was that first character i ever played with!! some friends got me DST but did not explain it to me and I didn’t know that much English, so I just chose him cuz he was the cutest and died immediately.

then I got DS, I saw that he had to be unlocked, MANAGED TO UNLOCK HIM and became a Wes stan and a Maxwell hater. *jazz hands*

also that comic above is the reason he became my favorite character forever!!! the comic just tells me that he just loves to spread around love and be just a ray of sunshine and I’m here for that SHIT

TL;DR; WHICH IS COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE: He is a very sweet mime dude and I love him.

IS THAT ENOUGH FOR U ANON?

[argentdandelion]

Why You Should Read: The Anomaly

Introduction & Disclaimers

The Anomaly, by Coffeelemental, is simultaneously the "Saturday Morning Cartoon of Undertale sequels" and the Sistine Chapel of Undertale fan comics in its tone, dedication, polish and detail.

(In this work, Frisk is referred to as “she”. As such, the review will refer to Frisk with corresponding pronouns. The comic also has a major character death, in case one really, really dislikes that. The following review may contain minor spoilers.)

Art

Few other comics compare to its consistent precision, polish, and detail. That said, The Anomaly's sheer amount of content (128 pages, five playable segments, several lore posts and a few animations) and dedication over the years (it started on June 19, 2016) makes the work incredible even among those few.

Its great attention to detail and polish is especially obvious because of all its human characters. Many find humans hard to draw properly: there are so many ways they can look “off”. Yet, even in the comic's relatively crude early pages, humans have perfect proportions and poses. More impressive still is how Coffeelemental draws perfect humanlike anatomy (e.g., humanlike hands) even for characters where she could easily dodge the challenge.

What the Sistine Chapel does not have: a before-and-after (left and right) comparison of turtles in business suits.

In short, The Anomaly is basically the Sistine Chapel of long-form Undertale comics. As Coffelemental points out herself, in the first fourteen pages quality and style varies. But she improves very quickly: there's a jump in quality at Page 9, and it just keeps getting better.

As per its realism/detail, characters look somewhat more biologically plausible and, for lack of a better word, more monstrous or bestial. Undyne has scales in some places, as well as (this may come as a shock) a nose, though in most shots her face is largely flat with slit-like nostrils like Lord Voldemort. (well, some fish do have tiny nostrils.)

Indeed, as impressive as it is, its stylistic approach is so unique it takes some time to get used to. Furthermore, it seems the sheer dedication to precision and detail has its downsides. In Coffeelemental’s first animation attempt, she had to slightly simplify and adjust the antagonists' designs just to make animation possible, and then she could only do it in choppy 15 FPS (frames per second).

While its overall quality is rather consistent, the style/format shifts in tone. Akin to the original Teen Titans' anime-like exaggerations, characters are drawn in a simple style for comic effect a few times.

One particularly stylish element is how Coffeelemental blends in-game mechanics (such as literal buttons) with a somewhat more realistic style and tone. Referencing how battles in Undertale are in black-and-white, the pages are monochrome when Frisk resolves conflicts. Indeed, as it’s revealed later, Frisk can only see in black-and-white ever since falling into the Underground.

Plot & Themes

“Frisk is using her personal control of the timeline to ensure monsters have a peaceful return to the surface world – but the seven who sealed them underground in the first place have some problems with this.” - The Anomaly’s About page

It's clear The Anomaly's plot is carefully planned out, as is suitable for a work of its length. That most of the work takes place after an eight-year time skip, its mentions of other timelines, and its timeline-jumping might seem like risks to a simple, comprehensible plot: it's certainly complicated other works' plots. Nonetheless, in The Anomaly these are kept balanced, leading to a plot that's the perfect blend of simplicity and complexity.

(Pre-game foreshadowing, from this page. If one looks closely, the brown goat has barely visible pink blush stickers...just like Chara. Art by Coffeelemental)

In the comic itself as well as the game, there's foreshadowing aplenty---even for the events of the game itself. One of the playable segments is even an entertaining flashback sequence in itself.

Sometimes consequences are delayed across pages; characters make plans to deal with other characters later. Given the antagonists are immune to reload-related memory loss just like Frisk, they must resort to stealth, trickery and subterfuge when interacting with her.

As befitting a work with several immortal characters, it has extensive historical lore, contextualizing the human-monster conflict and immortal characters' motives. One piece of lore even neatly resolves one big problem in the game’s background: if humans can’t use magic, how did “humanity’s seven greatest magicians” create the Barrier?

The story brings up intriguing questions and mysteries. Why are monsters losing access to their magic? What is the mysterious thing connected to Frisk? Some have been resolved at time of writing, and others have been resolved in a fascinating way that just leads to more intrigue.

While some of The Anomaly's themes (e.g., "With great power [over time] comes great responsibility") are pretty common in Undertale works with a Frisk-based, Post-Pacifist timeline premise, The Anomaly nonetheless deals with those themes in an interesting way. Its biggest theme is "Are you [Frisk] strong enough to protect humanity?"

The theme is manifold. Frisk feels obligated to protect monsters (and humans) from human-monster conflicts, but a secret confidant worries the pressure of her role is mentally running her ragged. Then there's moral strength: as the antagonists fear, despite her goody-two-shoes persona Frisk has used her power for evil, selfish, frivolous or just silly ends a few times. (e.g., flirts and jokes backfiring and leaving others aghast)

Characterization

The characterization is so widespread, so outstanding, that the reviewer figuratively can’t say enough good things about it. (But, literally, will have to do so, or this post will get awfully long)

From the first playable part. Note Undyne's higher LV. Also note she eventually joined the U.S. Coast Guard (which is technically military) here sometime eight years after the Pacifist ending, so whether she gained the LV then or earlier is ambiguous.

Characters from the game itself hew closely to their original, nuanced personalities. (This is especially remarkable for Sans, given how often his character is distorted or misinterpreted in the fandom.) It pays attention to even tiny, easily-missed quirks and variations, such as the fact Sans always takes Frisk out to eat before a serious talk (Genocide Route aside) and Undyne’s military(-esque) background and combative nature. Like in-game, characters have “portraits” when talking in the playable segments, but these ones are small full-color digital paintings with a wide array of expressions.

Many works give Frisk an undefined or pretty bland personality and background. That's easy to do, given Frisk's ever-neutral expression, rare and indirect dialogue, and only faint hints of personal preferences. Yet, in The Anomaly, Coffeelemental made the rare choice of giving Frisk a particular ethnicity and background, vague it is. (Her entire pre-Underground backstory is told within two pages) It contextualizes why Frisk was such a goody two-shoes pacifist from an early age, that one (spoilers) timeline deviation aside.

Speaking of Frisk's friendly and pacifistic ways, while Frisk is indeed as described, it's not her whole personality. Though playful, flirty and, well, “frisky”, she feels responsible for the safety and happiness of a people she brought above-ground, and has kept her role as a “time-space hero” secret. Her duty has made her something of a control freak; after a major character death she rewinds time to prevent the most minor of conflicts. But that absolute control over the timeline may yet corrupt her: she selfishly reloaded just to fix a bad grade on a test.

The Anomaly is impressive not only for its seven antagonists at once working together, but for them all having distinct personalities, approaches, and relationships with each other. Though they broadly agree on particular courses of actions, their motives and level of monster sympathy differ. Regardless of their species, it's remarkable just how humanized they are as villains.

Playable Sections

At a few points in The Anomaly, Coffeelemental chooses to convey the story in a way that is “hopefully more fun and more practical than using a comic format”. Namely, in playable downloadable games.

At time of writing, it has five playable sections. While the reviewer, unfortunately, cannot play the playable sections (the reviewer's computer is rather old), I’ve seen playthroughs on YouTube. The level of characterization, worldbuilding and general atmosphere in this playable segments are excellent. It adds lovely details that simply wouldn’t fit into a comic within a playable narrative.

The author says she’s chosen speed over polish for the sake of regular updates; nonetheless, they are impressive. Four of these sections even have a turn-based battle system, and two are so in-depth they take an hour to fully explore.

Coffeelemental says she tried really hard to emulate Toby Fox’s style and sense of humor...and she succeeded. The quirks and jokes in things like item descriptions would fit right in. Indeed, when looking out the window in the first playable section, one gets the famous phrase “It’s beautiful day outside”, in a non-threatening context, long before Toby Fox did the same thing in Deltarune.

While Coffeelemental didn’t make the music for these segments, she nonetheless curated the music for the playable segments well. Often music from Undertale is used, but for situations where Toby Fox’s music doesn’t suit the situation, she’s contacted composers.

Conclusion

This gem of a multimedia work seems rather under-appreciated on Tumblr itself, or even its dedicated YouTube channel. Truly, it boggles the mind to wonder how a long-running work of such quality could stay obscure.