#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)_/¯

[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.

[lucis-dove]

꧁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.

[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.

[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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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.

[desk216]

The Corona Incident, Part 8

Jack and Rapunzel lay panting on the grass, utterly exhausted. "That was…" Rapunzel began.

"Really fun." Jack said. He hadn't felt this tired since… Since before I became a Guardian, I guess. If he wasn't immortal, was he even a Guardian anymore? "So, what now?" he asked aloud.

"I dunno." Rapunzel said, climbing to her feet. "Maybe we can find someone who'll give us directions to the lights."

"Maybe they can also tell us what those lights really are." Jack said. "It'd be nice to know what we're looking for." He frowned as he stood, noticing an unfamiliar pressure in his lower abdomen.

Rapunzel set off, humming to herself, with Baby Tooth zipping around behind her. Jack shook off his puzzlement and followed.

The trees fell away ahead of them, revealing a dusty dirt path. They started down it, then rounded a corner.

"Why don't we ask there?" Rapunzel suggested, pointing down the road.

Jack frowned, following gaze to a beaten up building. The place was in disrepair, with shattered windows and several walls on the verge of collapse. Nearer to them, a painted sign swung gently in the breeze.

"The Snuggly Duckling" Jack read. He would have assumed it to be abandoned, had there not been multiple horses tied up in front of the building. "We may want to look elsewhere." he said. "The people probably aren't the friendliest."

"We're just asking for directions." Rapunzel said, pulling him forwards. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Pascal hid himself in Rapunzel's hair, and Baby Tooth ducked into Jack's hoodie pocket as they approached the building. Jack frowned, again noticing the strange sense of pressure.

Rapunzel knocked on the door. There was a long pause, then the door was abruptly yanked inwards. Rapunzel let out a squeak and stumbled backwards as a helmeted figure stepped into the doorway. "What'ya want?" he growled.

Rapunzel collected herself, then smiled upwards. "We just wanted to know if you could point us towards-"

"Who is it?" a voice called from inside.

"Couple'a kids." the man replied. "I was just about to tell'em to get lost."

"Wait!" Rapunzel said. "You can't just send us away like that! We need to know how to get to-"

"Don't care." the man grunted. He swung the door closed, but Rapunzel shoved her frying pan into the crack. "Please!" she called. "It's really important!"

"Well then, you'd better let'em in." the second voice chuckled. "We wouldn't want to get in the way of something important."

The brute stepped aside, and gestured them in. They walked in, then pulled back as they saw the room's inhabitants. Scarred and deformed, every body bulged with muscles, and every face turned sinister as it turned towards the teens. Every figure had multiple blades, and Jack saw several hands reaching for their weapons.

Rapunzel and Jack started to step backwards, but a pair of heavy hands shoved them forwards, towards the center of the room. "Go on!" the helmeted man encouraged. "We won't bite… much."

"We just need some directions, then we'll get out of your hair." Jack said.

"Don't be like that!" a man called. His muscles bulged, and his left hand had been replaced with a hook. "Everyone's always rushing around these days. Why don't you sit down and have a drink!" he seized a man by the throat, tossed him away, then gestured at the open spot on the bench. "There's plenty of room over here!"

Jack looked back, but several figures had stepped in front of the door, cutting off their retreat. he groaned inwardly, but cautiously set off towards the table.

"...Hi" Rapunzel said, as they walked across the room. "It's… nice to meet you all."

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked as they sat down, cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

"Do you have apple juice?" Rapunzel asked

"One apple juice coming right up." The bartender smirked. "So, what'll your friend have?"

Jack looked at the moldy wooden mugs scattered around the room. "Thanks, but I'm not thirsty." he said.

The man sneered at that. "You think you're too good for what we serve?" he asked.

"Of course he doesn't!" Rapunzel said, looking shocked at the accusation. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked Jack, looking concerned. "You aren't thirsty after all that running?"

Jack sighed, but gave in under her concerned gaze. "On second thought, I'll have some water." he said.

A moment later, the bartender tossed two mugs onto the table. Rapunzel took a careful swallow, then looked up, surprised. "This is really good!" she said, already drinking more.

The bartender gave a satisfied smirk. "Best juice you'll find anywhere in Corona."

Jack sipped his water, trying not to think about the germs and filth that it probably contained.

"So, whereya headed?" The hook handed man asked.

Rapunzel gulped, but forced herself to smile at the bruiser. "We're going to see the floating lights." she said.

His brow furrowed. "Floating lights?" he asked.

"Yeah…" Rapunzel said. "The ones that'll be showing up in the sky tomorrow?"

The man frowned. "Do you mean the Lantern Festival?"

"Lanterns?" Rapunzel asked. "That's what they are?"

"Yeah." he replied. "They launch 'em every year for the lost princess."

"I've watched the lights ever since I was little, but it was always too far away to see what they were." Rapunzel said. "For years, it's been my dream to visit them up close." she blushed a little. "Maybe it sounds silly, but I can't help but feel like those lanterns are a part of my destiny."

The man grunted. "I had a dream like that once." he said, staring into his drink.

"Really?" Rapunzel asked, curious. "What was it?"

"Nothing important." the man said. "It was impossible, anyway."

"No dream's impossible if you put your mind to it." Rapunzel said. "Why don't you tell us, and that way we can help make it true!"

The hook handed man kept looking downwards, saying nothing. "Well?" Rapunzel prompted

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, then sighed. "To become a pianist." he muttered.

The room broke out into snorts of laughter. "A pianist?" someone called. "That's your dream, Hooky?"

"Yeah." Hooky snarled, raising his axe and glaring around the room. "Any of you idiots got a problem with that?"

The chuckles died away in an instant, the other patrons shuffling their feet and looking to the ground.

"That's an amazing dream!" Rapunzel said. She turned, and looked towards an old piano sitting in the corner. "Do you know how to play?"

Hooky shrugged. "I know a bit, but-" Rapunzel was already dragging him across the room.

"Why don't you play something for us?" she suggested, sitting down on a bucket and looking up at him. "We can be your first concert!"

Hooky started to refuse, but his mouth closed as Rapunzel hopefully smiled up at him. He sighed, but plopped down on the bench. "Alright lads!" he bellowed. "This'll be to the tune of 'The Queen's Maid and the Wh-'" he cut off abruptly with a glance to the young figure seated beside him. "Oh, never mind what it's called, you all know the song!"

He played a quick intro, then broke into song. "I'm malicious, mean and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy, and violence wise, my hands are not the cleanest. But despite my evil looks, and my temper, and my hook! I've always yearned to be a concert pianist!"

Jack raised an eyebrow as the man started to play. Despite his reluctance, he was remarkably good. Baby Tooth zipped out of his pocket, then settled herself on top of a rafter to listen to the music.

Suddenly, the pressure returned, more uncomfortable and urgent than before. Jack frowned and looked at his stomach. It was almost like… Oh. Right.

He sighed, remembering another aspect of being mortal. "Do you have a privy?" he asked the bartender. The grizzled man gestured towards the back door. "Thanks." Jack said. Rapunzel seemed safe enough for the moment, so he slipped out as the room broke into chorus.

Jack stepped out of the outhouse, business finished.

"You!" a voice shouted. A black haired woman strode out from the trees, one hand holding a dagger.

Jack tensed, but smiled at the woman. "You must be Rapunzel's mother." he said cheerfully. "She's told me a lot about you."

"You stole my daughter!" she hissed.

Jack shrugged. "She's the one who asked to leave." he said. "Seems to me, at eighteen she ought to be old enough to make her own decisions."

Rapunzel's mother brandished her dagger, and Jack prepared for her to lunge. To his surprise, the woman instead drew the blade down the side of her own arm, drawing a line of blood. "Strike!" she hissed, and instantly the pooling blood turned black.

A bolt of energy hurtled towards his chest. "Whoa!" Jack said. He swung his staff and knocked it aside. The blast slammed into the grass, causing it to wilt and yellow.

The woman let out a sound of frustration, but repeated the action. "Strike!" she again called.

Ready this time, Jack easily batted the spell away, this time sending it back towards the witch. She was forced to dive aside, and Jack noticed strands of her hair turning from black to silver.

"I can keep doing this all day." Jack called, spinning his staff as the woman stood. He smiled at the deepening lines on the her face. "But you aren't looking too good, yourself."

His hunch paid off. The woman looked at her reflection in the knife and drew back in horror. "No!" she hissed, pulling her cloak around herself and stumbled towards the woods. As she reached the trees, she looked back towards him, her face filled with fury and loathing. "This isn't over." she snarled.

Jack grinned. "Glad to hear it." he called. "'Cause I've still got more to say about your parenting techniques."

[punkbirdwitch]

Sweet Mother Sappho

A longer poem about learning through history, self-discovery, etc. It’s a rough draft-- I’m not 100% satisfied with the storyline-- but, eh, here ya go.

---

Oh, Mother Sappho, though I’m not sure who you are,

I just found you in the trunk of my dad’s old beat-up car,

In a pile full of other stuff he used to want but doesn’t,

So I figured now would be the time to give myself a present.

I must admit that I’m not well-versed with verses,

Haven’t seen stanzas since Kwanzaa, and my rhymes could use work-- but!

Your face is on the cover and you look like you’re nice, so

I think I’ll come and read you-- only once or twice, I swear!--

And only when I’m curious about Aphrodite’s weaving,

Or carpenters and roofbeams or Gods who like deceiving!

I’d hate to be a bother with all of my incessant reading,

There’s just something ‘bout your passages I can’t help but find intriguing--

But maybe it’s just that my curiosity took

When I noticed finely scrawled within the tiny nook

Between the front cover and the page--

Faded some with age--

In graphite on the page, it reads, “Steph…

...

I hope you like the book.”

… My name’s Chris, by the way.

-

Oh, Mother Sappho, I know it’s only been one day,

But after our first meeting I can’t tear myself away!

And on top of that I realized that I’ve been a little flippant.

Dad always says that when I talk, my brain gets sorta distant.

My name is Chris, as I surely said before,

I’m 15 years old, born in the year Two Thousand and Four,

Which to you must seem like, I dunno, a billion years away--

If only you could see all of the stuff we have today!

My dad’s a docent-- uh, which means he works in a museum,

And I remind him he’s a nerd just about every time I see ‘im.

He takes folks ‘round to see the history, the time when you lived--

And money can be tight, so sometimes he works the graveyard shift.

I guess they save some headache by keeping the same guy

To glide across the floors by day and scrub ‘em by night.

But hey! I’m not complaining, and neither is he,

‘Cuz Empty Halls + Father/Son = Happy Memories.

I spent a lot of nights playing next to history,

Though how I (almost) never broke stuff still remains a mystery.

I played tag with the Huns, roshambo with Tommie Smith,

(A game I always won since he would always raise his fist).

My father told me tales from ancient times-- (Never quite PG)--

Then quizzed me on Mythology ‘til my mind was at its apogee!--

I’d hunt with Davy Crockett and paint with Vince van Gogh--

Might explain why a dead poet makes the second-best friend that I know. Ha!

But my favorite-- yes, the best-and-kindest figures of all

Were the warriors whispered about in the Women’s History Hall.

This was before they spread the female figures throughout the exhibits,

But in that hallway you could sense there was rebellious spirit.

Wollstonecraft and Curie, Shelley, Earhart and d’Arc,

I danced with Josie Baker, had some chats with Rosa Parks--

I fought entire wars with them as a tactician of sorts,

Then settled it with kindness, like you read about in books--

And it’s true that my childhood would have been less sleep-deprived

If I stayed at home while daddy made the money to survive,

But I’m a night owl through and through, a real child of Nyx-- (Still got it!)--

Which is why I’m sitting here with you at, like… 3:06.

… A.M. Yikes-- Mother Sappho! I’ve got to get to bed,

But thank you oh-so-kindly for the poetry I’ve read.

I hope that you don’t mind if this becomes a regular thing,

Like when I used to read soliloquies to Dr. Martin Luther King (‘s statue)--

God, with all that museum time, it’s weird I never met you.

But without further ado,

I’ll say good night to you.

… But Mother Sappho-- one thing keeps me awake,

A little shred of curiosity that I have yet to slake.

It pulls me in like the aroma from the master dish of a chef,

Oh, Mother Sappho…

… Who’s Steph?

-

-

Oh, Mother Sappho! Julie’s coming by tonight,

And whenever she comes over she just has to steal the spotlight!

Not that I mind-- I’m cool with being quiet at the table

While my childhood friend fills my open head with fables.

Our Hellish Elementary formed our crucible as friends,

And though it sucked, we only came out stronger in the end.

A nerdy girl, a “cissy” guy, playing sci-fi with dolls--

Didn’t really resonate within those tiny halls.

And of course I’d be remiss to not show her my new find--

I always try to have a new conversation topic each time

That she comes over-- Which she’s done quite regularly

Since she became my friend when no one else

Would hang out with me.

… But anyway-- She says she loves you, which is not a surprise,

It’s always been dead-dramatic ladies for whom she’s had eyes--

Not saying you’re dramatic, Sappho, I’m just trying to say,

That I’ve recently been wondering if you might’ve been gay?

I’m just saying! that’s the conclusion that I came to next

When the subtextual did floweth over into the text.

(O it makes my panicked heart go fluttering in my chest,

for the moment I catch sight of you there is no speech left

in me--) You see? You can’t blame me for thinking

That it was rainbow-colored nectar you and your friends were drinking.

 And while Julie’s father has a chat with my dad,

I tell my lifelong friend about the conversations we’ve had--

And I can’t help but hear our fathers talking in the afternoon air,

Two strong voices rising through wood and laughing as a pair…

Though what they talk about’s a mystery-- dad says it’s “Nothing much--”

It’s rare for friends to have their dads like each other this much,

Aaaand I just rhymed “much” with “much”-- I told you I’m rusty!

But I think I’m getting better, you’ll-- just have to… Trust me?

Ugh.

 -

-

-

 Oh, Mother Sappho, I’m addling my brain--

If I don’t find out who this “Steph” is, I might just go insane--

Short for Stephanie, I’m sure, but why is it in my father’s hands?

And why would he discard in the back of our sedan?

Is there some pain within my father’s past he’d rather I not know?

...

You know-- I never had a mother, Mother Sappho.

 -

-

-

-

 Oh, Mother Sappho.

Oh, Mother Sappho.

 I spoke with Julie today, Oh, Mother Sappho.

Sweet Mother Sappho.

I had something to say, “Oh--

“You know,” I said, “I think that I would like to be a girl,

Even if not for forever, I’d still give it a whirl.

I’m unversed in verses-- It’s hard

To explain in the wrong key

But I get the feeling that not everything

Is quite all right with me.”

And she turned to me and smiled and said “Silly-- you can be.”

 .

 Oh, Mother, Sappho.

Oh, Mother, Sappho.

I’m addling my brain.

There’s something here inside my heart that I just cannot contain.

It doesn’t feel right--

And yet

It doesn’t feel wrong.

It just feels like I’ve

Never quite

Belonged.

And now I’m not sure where I’m at or what to do.

Mother Sappho, I don’t know what to do.

Oh, Mother Sappho…

…

Sweet Mother Sappho…

 -

-

-

-

-

-

 (Oh, darling daughter, I hope you know that you are strong

And that as you sat there rambling, I was listening all along.

Please pardon my language-- I’m afraid I’ve not rehearsed.

In this meter, I’m afraid that I’m the one unversed.

 (You’re green and dainty, child-- what better thing to be?

And though your heart is violet, you’re as sturdy as the tree.

I hope you know I love you, no matter who you are,

For your soul is far more radiant than all the highest stars--

Now show them who you are--

My child, show them you are.

...

(And know

That you have nothing to fear.

You’ll know

When you understand how near you were

And are

To people just like you.

To people who love you.)

 -

 Oh, Mother Sappho, I hope you know you haven’t been misread,

And I think I found the meaning in that thing that you last said.

I realized what before I would not have believed in, ‘cuz--

“Steph” is short for Stephanie-- but is also short for “Stephen.”

 I think my dad and I might need to have a talk--

In the morning. It’s 2:04, and I’m still sort of in shock.

Maybe once I tell ‘im, I can help him get a date.

Ha! Maybe…

It’s late.

 Thank you, Mother Sappho, and just to set things straight-- (Which I guess I’m not, now, huh, Ms. Sapphic?)

You can still call me Chris-- it’s gender-neutral, yeah? It almost feels like fate.

Oh, Mother Sappho, I think that this feels right.

Thanks, and-- good night, Mother Sappho.

 -

(Good night.)

[thecowboydisco]

Bunny in a Bunny Suit

Characters: Arthur Morgan & John Marston, Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw, Mac & Davey Callander Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters, Vague descriptions of non-sexual nudity, Silly but not technically crack Word Count: 3k

Description: Arthur tells young John an unfortunate lie. (Namesake: Bunny in a Bunny Suit by Simone Whittaker)

Part 3 of the Coming of Age series

1885

The first thing Arthur was greeted with upon riding into their temporary home— an abandoned, but well-off ranch on the plains— was Susan trudging over. She wore a lemon-soured expression that made Arthur briefly consider turning around and heading back for the mountains.

John leaned to one side and looked around Arthur’s shoulder to see what was happening.

“Afternoon, miss Grimshaw,” Arthur greeted. He touched the brim of his hat as he brought his horse to a slow stop beside the pasture fence.

As he lifted his leg, about to swing himself off the horse, Susan hurried her pace and waved her arms.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She exclaimed. “Don’t you boys even think of coming in here.”

“What? How come?” Arthur asked. “Did we get evicted while we was gone?”

Susan’s war-path came to a sudden stop and she huffed. With one finger held up at the boys, she turned back on her trail and went for a bucket of supplies hanging on a fence post a few feet away.

“…What’s she got?” John whispered.

“Somethin’ to beat us with, probably.” Arthur replied.

Bucket in hand, Susan stormed her way back over to the boys. Her expression never shifted once.

“I could smell you both comin’ a mile off,” She spat. “Just take one look at yourselves— you’re both disgusting.”

“I missed you, too.” Arthur said. “And why yes, we are safe and sound. Thanks for askin’.”

Susan huffed. “Take this down to the pond and go wash yourselves, before you even think of comin’ into the house.” She shoved the bucket up towards John, who awkwardly took it. The boy shot Arthur a quizzical look, his brows furrowed, then set it in his lap.

“You can’t be serious.”

Susan crossed her arms firmly. “Don’t test me, Morgan.”

Arthur groaned. He took his hat off and hooked it onto the horn of his saddle. His face was caked with dirt and sweat, and so were his clothes.

“We just finished a three-day huntin’ trip gatherin’ food for you lot, and we don’t even get a thank you.” He waved his hand back at John. “Marston here even caught his first rabbit. Not that you cared to ask any.”

“Good for him, doesn’t change that stench that followed you both home,” Susan made a shooing motion with her hand. “Leave what you caught here and get your asses down to the pond to wash. Don’t bother coming back until you’ve scrubbed every inch.”

“Lord Almighty,” Arthur mumbled. He reached back and elbowed John. “Hand that bucket over and unload the horse.”

John furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“‘Cause you smell the worse, and I want Grimshaw to get a good whiff.”

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled at that, while John eventually forked over the bucket and slid off the back of Boadicea. Silently, Arthur got a kick out of watching John fumble to untie their kill from the wagon and less silently did he enjoy watching Susan pluck at strands of John’s greasy hair while shaking her head in disgust.

Once the whole ordeal was done, John climbed back up, and the boys hit the trail again. As they approached the pond a few minutes later, John spoke up and said, bitterly, “That Grimshaw sure is a spitfire, isn’t she?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use to describe her most days, but that’ll work alright,” Arthur replied.

He rode Boadicea down a small, grassy slope which lead them to the pond’s bank. Mosquitoes and other bugs danced over the water’s silky-smooth surface. A frog leapt over a lily pad, and some birds chirped from the surrounding trees. The scene was pretty enough to have been a painting; Arthur only felt a little bad that they were about to use this pond to wash their asses.

Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and motioned his hand to John.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Jump in.”

John faltered a second. “You ain’t serious. Clothes an’ all?”

“Naw, you’re right.” Arthur swung his leg and slid off the horse’s back. “Take your clothes off. We’ll have to burn ‘em at this point anyway, no sense in gettin’ them damp.”

John’s cheeks reddened. “Not you, too.”

“Yeah, me too. Now that Grimshaw’s mentioned it, and I’m standing down-wind of you, I can’t help noticin’ how ripe you are.”

Arthur swaggered towards the water. He made swift work of his coat and his shirt, both of which were promptly tossed aside onto some rocks. He scanned the water all the while and savoured the feeling of the early summer sun on his body.

He figured this place wouldn’t be too bad of a spot to stay for a while, assuming they didn’t plan any big commotions yet. The law was getting stricter about things like that and people like them, and frankly Arthur could have used a little peace and quiet for a while.

And there was that sweet girl he met in town— Mary Gillis. If nothing else, Arthur wouldn’t mind sticking around just to see her again. If he kept a low enough profile for a while, he might even have the chance to ask her out for a dinner, or something to that extent.

Caught in his own thoughts, Arthur stopped paying any attention to John, who was slowly taking care of his own clothes. Arthur only came back to reality when John announced, “Don’t look, okay?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even wanna look at you dressed. I promise you, I ain’t lookin’ now.”

Keeping good to his word regardless, Arthur turned halfway to the side, putting his back fully to John. He kicked his boots off, then draped his pants over the rock with his shirt. Eager to get washed and return to camp, Arthur took off for the water.

It was warm at first against his feet as he waded in, though the farther in he went, the cold seemed to creep up his hairy thighs and straight through his bones. Instead of lingering on it, Arthur took a dive into the shallow water. He swam for a bit, letting the water rush over him and clear his senses; when he needed to breathe again, his toes found the soft, muddy bottom of the pond and he stood upright. Arthur burst to the surface, water cascading down his heavy-set body. He glanced around, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then fully turned to the shore.

“Hurry up and get in, Marston.” He called out.

John clutched the bucket to his chest unsurely. He still had his underwear on, but if he wanted to ride back to camp with a chapped ass, that was going to be his own issue. After a few long beats, John started wading out into the water.

He got to about his knees before stopping.

“It’s too cold,” he complained.

“S’ not so bad once you get in further. Also, shut up and throw me some soap.”

John rooted through the bucket with a grumble. He then tossed a bar to Arthur underhanded; Arthur lurched forward to catch it, but just barely.

“Christ!” Arthur scoffed. “What a shitty hand you’ve got.”

John frowned hard. His cheeks went red again as he dumped the bucket of its contents— another bar of soap and a wash brush— then filled it instead with water. He poured it over his head while Arthur started soaping himself up.

“Can’t throw, can barely shoot… It’s a wonder what Dutch sees in you at all.” Arthur called out. “Guess he likes projects.”

John’s cheeks flared hotter as annoyance built inside of him. Soaking wet, he threw the bucket aside and snatched up the soap instead.

“At least I’m not a butterball,” John snapped.

Arthur snorted a laugh. Quickly, he dunked his head underwater, then worked the soap into his hair.

“Butterball, huh? That’s a big word for you.”

“Would you just fuck off already?”

Arthur laughed again. It was so easy to get on John’s nerves, it almost made him understand all the grief Hosea and Dutch used to give him.

“I oughta wash your mouth out with soap. Save Grimshaw doin’ it herself.”

“I’d like to see you try, fatty.”

Arthur cocked his brow. For a long moment he stared at John, quietly sizing him up, before a smirk took his lips. John busied himself with scrubbing and soaping, so he didn’t notice Arthur approaching at first.

“I reckon you should come take a dip with me, Marston.”

John’s eyes widened with fear. He took half a step back, his hands going up.

“Don’t you dare. I can’t swim, you know that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Arthur grinned. “Promise I won’t throw you out far… Just enough to let the eels get a bite in of your toes.”

“That ain’t funny.” John warned. He took another step back.

“Sure it is. At least to me.”

John stared at Arthur for half a moment, then turned and bolted for the shore.

Arthur gave immediate chase, laughing.

“Come on, not afraid of a little water, are ya?”

John was quick to scramble ashore, crying out, “Don’t you dare!” all the while. Arthur could have easily chased him the whole way, and maybe even caught the little bastard, but he started laughing too hard to make it far.

Arthur stopped a few feet from the shore, hands on his knees, while John scampered away to go hide behind an indifferent Boadicea. Arthur took a long moment to catch his breath, before he stood back up straight. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, then cleared his throat.

“Goddamn, you’re somethin’ else, boy.” Arthur laughed. He paused, smiling, before noting the weird expression on John’s face.

John’s head poked out barely over the top of Boadicea’s saddle. His brows were knitted tight together and his mouth was slightly open with disbelief.

Arthur’s smile slipped off. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure something wasn’t coming up behind him; sure enough, all he saw was an expanse of water and the swaying, shady trees around its edge. He looked back at John, lips pursed.

“What? You got a problem?”

“Where’s…” John started, his voice slow and confused. Maybe a little scared. “Where’s your dick at?”

Arthur glanced down, mostly confused himself. The water came up to the middle of his thighs, gently lapping at the back of his legs. He took half a second to process everything, before he realized. John was so fresh in the gang, he didn’t know a damn thing.

Immediately, Arthur knew the right thing to do. He should sit down, give John the whole spiel Hosea had given him years ago, about people and norms and bodies…

But he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, Arthur gasped in fake terror.

“Oh my god. It must’ve fallen off.”

John’s voice cracked as he exclaimed, “What?!”

“I can’t believe this,” Arthur continued, voice taut with faux panic. “I had it just a second ago— oh my god. One of the eels must’ve taken it.”

John’s face went white as a sheet. His body was stiff.

“All these years, I thought Hosea was pullin’ my leg when he said your dick would fall off if you played with it too much, but he was tellin’ me the truth this whole time!”

“You ain’t for real,” John managed, weakly. His own voice was high-strung with panic he tried to keep control of.

“Look, you can even see for yourself. It sure as shit ain’t there!”

That much was true. Arthur had a mat of hair that went down from his large chest to his stomach and between his legs, but there was nothing else to be seen. John desperately wanted to believe that this was a practical joke, but there was no conceivable way he could think of for Arthur to pull it off. Literally.

Except, after a few long, dramatic pauses, Arthur cracked. He barked a laugh, one which made John’s shoulders tighten and his cheeks flare cherry red. Before he could snap at Arthur, Arthur pushed all his hair back away from his face and waved his hand.

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya,” Arthur drawled. “That old thing fell off years ago.”

The annoyance at being laughed at evaded John’s face. In its wake, his eyes snapped open wide again as the colour flooded from his cheeks.

“Yessir, probably when I was about, oh… Twelve, thirteen.” Arthur turned around, trudging back to the water. “I shook it too many times whenever I went to take a piss and one day the damn thing just popped right off in my hand. But never mind that.”

Arthur splashed around, rinsing the soap out of his hair and off his body. Dropping the topic altogether, he said, “Best hurry up an’ finish washin’, Marston; supper won’t wait on our accounts.”

Uneasily, John trailed back to the water. He didn’t have an appetite for supper any more.

                                                     —30—

“If I may,” Dutch announced, as he stepped from the stairs to the open main-floor of the cottage. “I’d like to call a meeting for a moment.”

Hosea, Susan, Mac, and Davey sat around the big dining table in the center of the room, caught amid a poker game. Arthur was across the room, in the kitchen corner, digging through one of their boxes of liquor. Oil lamps burned on the walls, lighting the room in a flickering glow. Smoke hung heavy in the air.

Hosea was the first to look up first from his cards to Dutch. He waved him over.

“Only if you make it quick,” Hosea replied. His eyes returned to the table. “We were having an intellectual and in-depth conversation about politics before Arthur returned, so he didn’t feel left out for not understanding.”

A couple chuckles came from the table. They continued to play as Dutch came around and slid into what was presumably Arthur’s empty spot between Hosea and Davey.

“This involves you too, Arthur, so pay attention,” Dutch said.

“I can hear you just fine. Go ahead.” Arthur grumbled, as he pawed fruitlessly through a rattling box of empty bottles.

“Alright. Now I want adult, honest answers here,” Dutch began. He picked up Arthur’s cards, looked them over, then showed them to Hosea. “I just spent an hour painstakingly talking to the boy, John, about something he was told recently.”

Hosea scanned the cards quickly and nodded silently. Dutch turned them to Davey.

“Alright. What was it?” Hosea asked. He pushed a sizable number of coins into the pot in the center of the table.

Arthur, notably, was silent in the background.

Dutch placed Arthur’s cards back down. He kept his face stony as he could. “Someone, supposedly, convinced the boy that his pecker was going to fall off.”

Davey laughed first, loud and hard. Mac quickly followed with his own chortle. While they both got a kick out of the idea, Susan bit back a grin and Hosea smirked, nodding to his cards. Arthur, in the background, didn’t even try to can his snorting laughter.

Dutch fought hard to keep a stern expression. His lips twitched.

“This ain’t no laughing matter. That boy was scared shitless.”

Mac’s hand shot out to grab onto Hosea’s shoulder. He gripped it, while the rest of his body shook with laughter. Hosea laughed himself, though quieter and more contained.

“You boys are awful,” Susan chided with a smirk. She swatted Davey on the shoulder. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Davey kept laughing. He had already been hitting the bottle since noon, so his laughter carried farther and longer than anyone else’s. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t do it. Wish I had, though.”

“Here, here.” Mac replied.

Dutch turned to his left. “Hosea?”

Hosea patted Mac’s hand, shaking his head. “I would’ve told you already if it were me.”

“And it wasn’t me,” Dutch said, “So it had to have been one of you unlawful bunch.”

Dutch’s eyes roamed across the table and then settled on Arthur in the corner. Innocently, he continued to root through the box with one hand, while he used the other to wipe his mouth.

Dutch narrowed his eyes a little.

“Was it you, Arthur?”

“Me? No, never.” But Arthur couldn’t keep his straight face this time. His cheeks split with a crooked smirk behind his hand.

Dutch scoffed.

“Your poker face is laughable, son. That’s why you’re losing so badly.”

“Actually, it’s ‘cause I’m playin’ with a room full of cheaters… But sure. We’ll go with that.”

Dutch waved his hand.

“Go up there and apologize to the boy, will you? Hell, apologize to me, too, because I spent an hour trying to convince him otherwise and speaking on behalf of topics I am not qualified for.”

“I’m sorry you had to be in the same room as him for that long.”

“Arthur!” Dutch snapped. “Get going! Be the bigger man.”

Arthur had a little, stupid smirk about him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room instead. He slapped Dutch’s shoulder as he walked by.

“You know, if Hosea had done this to me, you wouldn’t have said a word,” Arthur commented. “How come Marston gets all the special treatment?”

“If Hosea had done it, I wouldn’t have to handle it.”

That was all Dutch had to say on the matter, so the rest of the group quieted around the table. Arthur trudged up the stairs, feet pounding the whole way, and eventually they disappeared. Once he did, Dutch tossed Arthur’s cards aside.

“You’re handling the next crisis,” He said to Hosea.

“I figured about as much.”

Then, with a smile, Hosea laid down his winning hand and reaped his rewards from the middle of the table.