#i’ve been very art blocked and everything have looked bad and i’m very frustrated with my work

[professionaljester]

i miss her

[zhuhongs]

Ah yes, space. I’ve always lived my life thinking that i was the type of person that didn’t really take up much space. Physical size aside, I had always lived in rather small places. Well small compared to the average american. I ate so little, did so little, and consumed really so little compared to my peers. When people talked about how compact Taiwan and most East Asian cities were, i figured space and size would be no problem. But even with how tiny i thought I was I realized that westerners, especially were raised used to a certain degree of space that just didn’t exist here unless you were very rich or lived in the countryside. Like I’m used to sharing a room but i’ve always lived in a situation where i was home a lone alot. So I could go in the living room and sprawl out all of my stuff and have a large space to exist in. Even though it was small compared to most Americans it was rather large. I had no clue, I never had that sort of perspective. Or if I was walking around I always sorta expected to have a big sidewalk to walk around on and to be far away from everything. Or if I wanted to listen to music I didn’t need to use headphones, or if i walked around with a drink it wasn’t a big issue. But here you really can’t carry much around with you, or if you do you need to be careful about those around you, because every space is shared. Its things like being in a small classroom and dropping your stuff because the desk is too small to fit all of our books, pens and everything. Or things like buying food on the street and expecting to eat it when you get back home because theres nowhere to sit. If you sit on the side of the road and eat you will very likely spill unless you are very careful. And I was never a very careful, graceful person even back in the US when I had so much space afford to me. So being here right now I often feel very embarrassed about how much space I take up. Like I know obviously there’s nothing wrong with that, obviously we all deserve space, but it’s more embarrassing how visibly Western i am. Like i’ve gotten adjusted to this aspect of living in Taipei quite a bit but man, somedays it really gets to me. Like i’m such a disorganized and clumsy person, those are not sins by any means but man do I feel strange about it. Like I wish I could just be better at living in a more organized, well planned out way. But everything I do feels sloppy and like it messes up the people around me. I shouldn’t care about that, I should only are about me but when it’s a constant feeling, I can’t help but notice it. It makes me realize how the US is so different from a lot of the world.

I feel like this lack of space affects me a lot more than i realize. I get really frustrated about it sometimes. Like I want to goplaces and do things but like I feel like it’s so inconvenient to eat or to go study or go out and draw and as such all I really do sometimes is stay on my phone and it’s so… yea. I’ve been going through a massive art block recently too. It feels like nothing I draw looks good, or I can’t bring myself to make any art because I can’t allow myself to be messy and occupy an ugly space in my sketchbook. I want it all to be beautiful but since it isn’t, i just don’t draw and don’t draw and as of recent the only thing I do is write in my journal. And I love writing too but sometimes I think that too much introspection is a bad thing for me and it makes me more miserable than happy. I just want to have the space to exist, or to get rid of the part of my that is embarrassed to be myself in the presence of others. But I’m still bothered by it, and being here has def exacerbated that fear I’ve always had of being too much. This isn’t to say that Taipei is a bad place, its great. It wasn’t healthy for me to have this fear anyways, if I stayed in the US I’d def still have this latent tendency to make myself small, but now I moreso need to learn to accept myself as it is. My issues are just being pointed out to me because I can no longer have the advantage of knowing my surroundings to a T. Now I’m in a new place and I can’t hide from myself anymore. So I have to lay it bare and make peace with it. That’s good but it’s just a bit miserable. But i’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out. I just need to verbalize it and none of my friends are picking up and I don’t want to sit at my desk and physically write so this one will go onto the internet for everyone to see.

[edensrose]

seeing the recent hate targeted towards blogs who do dark content—whether it be lotr/silm related or any fandom for the matter—is crazy 😭 bc for the majority of the blogs i’ve stumbled upon/follow, if not all, the authors are usually survivors of trauma related to their works. its either they’ve experienced it or have dealt with it in some way that they use the internet or some expression of art (like writing for the matter) as a way to escape and cope from it. to them, this is a form of expression to vent their frustrations and feelings, and some others see it as a way to take hold over their own trauma—and i know that it is hard for others to digest and see, but this is why people cope in different ways. if you don’t like dark content, that’s fine, you’re definitely entitled to what makes you comfortable because spaces on the internet like tumblr has tools to help you cater to your own space. but if you’re gonna go out of your way and attack authors who do dark content, it’s not any better. i think it’s hypocritical—how come you get to have a safe space but diminish how others cope? i know it’s a controversial conversation, whether it makes you a bad person for liking stuff like this and going as far as making art of it, but it’s definitely up to the person who makes it. i can’t really state for sure if it makes you bad or not, but i doubt anyone can, because not everything completely adheres to a black and white perspective. there isn’t a limit to what you can write about and the type of fanfics others enjoy. i’m sure that someone who enjoys horror movies like friday the 13th isnt going around to support real life serial killers.

look, there’s a reason why authors heavily tag their works when writing darkfics. there’s disclaimers upon disclaimers upon disclaimers. i remember stumbling upon a fic on ao3 that was so heavily tagged it felt like centuries passed by trying to scroll through. there’s a reason why a lot of content like this is tagged 18+, for mature audiences, because if you’re old enough, you know how to handle content like this. and if you really want to get into it, critical thinking is definitely involved when you’re consuming stuff like this, that’s why it’s only and made by mature audiences.

one of the best things about authors who properly tag their works, is that they tag their works properly. it’s not like they’re creating a fanfic where their main summary and premise is a nice, simple, vanilla romance with no trigger warnings whatsoever, so you read it thinking it’s something you can digest. only to figure out, there’s definitely scenes later on the books that diminishes that narrative of a non-dark content story. i think that’s shitty, it’s feels like it’s glorifying some messed up abuse and branding it as “romance.” but that’s the main difference here, you don’t see none of that bs when it comes to blogs that create dark content. like i said, a lot of these blogs are created by people who understand—that’s why tagging fanfics/dark fics are so vitally important and why these authors take it seriously. if you’ve been around the fanfic community, you know that tagging is very serious around here because it helps people filter out certain things that they don’t want to see, and that makes it easier for other people to create their own safe spaces.

i know it’s easy to just chalk it up to, “if you don’t like, don’t read”/“just block the tags,” and it may feel like people are just dismissing it. but it really is that easy to say that. no one is dismissing how you feel about dark content and no one should, for the matter, ever talk crap about your own feelings and experiences. but as i’ve said and many of these authors say, you get to create your own boundaries on the internet. if you don’t like, just block. there’s no need to go around and harass others, seriously. it doesn’t make you any better.

also for the authors and blogs who’s been getting hate and attacked on this, i’d probably suggest turning off your anons for awhile. there’s a reason why people are so quick to hate on the internet because they are granted anonymity, so it can be used as an advantage.

also sorry for the ramble 😭 i felt bad seeing blogs i follow get harassed over this and i wanted to offer some retrospect! everyone is entitled to their own feelings, but be understanding of others. in no way am i defending that anon that’s been going around and spreading hate and disgusting death threats. i hope you all have a great week, be happy and be nice to others—always.

I got to this so late, I'm sorry. But yes, everything you said is absolutely valid. Most writers I know tag their work accordingly. I also feel like people don't realise that by policing something like dark content they are criticising an outlet for survivors. I was surprised by how many are writers and readers, as I have discovered due to this situation. I can only hope that their safe space is also not intruded on. I honestly just want to go back to the normal stuff on my blog, but I have not only been beyond frustrated with this situation, but still receiving quite bad messages that I have chosen to block. I really wish that fandom and people in general pull themselves together

[chamoemileclown]

I honestly would love to talk to you about 3d because I really like your 3d works but i' m like really shy so , do you have any advice you would like to give people starting doing 3d art? (sorry if bad english)

I do!! I’m so sorry this took me so long to answer I’ve been busy and wanted to explain this in a proper/ thought out way so here’s just some things about my experience getting into 3D below the cut.

Okay so I think one of the biggest things you should know about before getting into 3D modeling is that you don’t necessarily need to be an art person to get into 3D modeling?

I’m mostly an illustrator and sometimes and animator but I’ve found that those skills don’t really transfer over into 3D as much? If that makes sense. Of course it helps for things like texturing but it’s not the exact same thing they’re very different skill sets.

As long as you have a laptop/ or pc already on hand it costs nothing to get into 3D modeling. Most programs are free (blender and blockbench are at the very least and those are the two I use) and I don’t use any fancy equipment to model I just use the trackpad on my laptop and I find that easier than my drawing tablet. (I know a lot of people who model use a mouse but I get by fine without one)

If you’ve ever tried to get into 3D modeling, opened up a program, and then went “wow this is really overwhelming” I’d recommend using blockbench. It’s a 100% free, open source program intended to be used to model and animate entities in minecraft but you obviously don’t have to do that. It’s relatively limited, you won’t get like high poly really smooth models but it has enough tools to acclimate you to modeling and learn some of the shortcuts. I like it because there isn’t a lot going on with the program so you aren’t just overwhelmed with options. You can also edit and pose minecraft skins in this program if that’s something you’re interested in.

I’ll link some tutorials at the end that helped me if anyone reading this wants some guidance on getting into block bench and I might stick in some blender stuff too. For what I do I model and texture in block bench then export it into blender so I can do some lighting effects and render the model.

By biggest pieces of advice is really just to:

-Don’t let it frustrate you. If something isn’t working or you’re confused walk away, think things through, and then come back to your project. Don’t feel scared to consult tutorials or ancient reddit posts to try to troubleshoot. Just don’t troubleshoot while frustrated, that always makes me want to drop the whole process. Don’t feel discouraged if you have bumps in the road it gets so much easier after you’ve done it a few times.

-Never spend money on courses/ programs. Maybe this is because I’m broke but like unless you know you’re really into it and you’ve exhausted all your resources it’s not worth buying something. There’s so many free resources and so many people out there who are willing to help you out. I’m more than willing to help anyone if they have any problems with blockbench. Artists should uplift other artists my inbox is always open to questions.

-Start small and slow with projects and build from there. I think this applies to art in general but if you start out with a big complex project you will only confuse yourself. Just start small and familiarize yourself with your tools. Your first model may not look the best and thats okay (I definitely made some scary looking stuff that hasn’t seen the light of day)

-You don’t need to know a program inside out before you start. I’m better with hands on learning so being able to explore myself helped me personally. I still don’t know everything about blockbench (I haven’t even touched the animate tab) and I know nothing in blender other than rigging together lighting and moving around the camera. That doesn’t mean I can’t render cool stuff.

-Learn the keyboard shortcuts!!!! Can’t emphasize this one enough but it’s true. It’s so much easier to really navigate and use blockbench once you know the keyboard shortcuts. ctrl z to undo and ctrl y to redo are essential to know. Most functions you can hover over and they’ll show you the shortcuts. Don’t be stubborn like me and learn them they’ll just make your life easier.

-Organize your cubes when modeling, use folders to their fullest potential and name them when you can. It gets confusing quick and you can always select a cube to show you where it is but it’s so much easier for your to label things as something like “left leg” than “cube43”.

Okay here’s some tutorials now:

(side note, not sure what your native language is anon but all these tutorials are in english. A lot of blockbench tutorials are sparse and blockbench is sourcing community translations of the program in a ton of different languages [including French, Portuguese, and Spanish] so check those out if you’re interested)

The fundamentals of blockbench, just some very basic stuff about modeling and how things work

This one is a little longer and I didn’t follow it exactly but I feel like this explained a lot about the basics of modeling that helped me:

This video is all about texturing and I found it very informative. It’s short but to the point and covers a lot of the different options with texturing

This is one of the only tutorials I could find about exporting models from blockbench and importing them into blender to render out. I wouldn’t worry about this step yet until you got modeling down and want to present your work nicely.

This tutorial is about rendering and using hdris in blender. I wouldn’t worry about this one either until your more comfortable with modeling but it’s a really great resource on how to make your model look really nice.

Another don’t worry about it yet tutorial! Lighting in blender, this is a really great detailed overview of lighting in blender. If you already learned how to use hdris in the last tutorial you might not really want to worry about this but if you want to use more dynamic and even colorful lighting this is a really great resource!

[zulivaris]

Art Block tips that helped me

 I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time:  When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate. 

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence. 

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck”  I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence.  The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it  Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

[cupcraft]

I primarily use the “For You” Tumblr page a lot to discover artists, (I am on Mobile and it’s very easy to switch between the Dashboard and For You pages here) the more posts of a specific artist I like, the more likely it is for that artist to show up on my For You page multiple times until I follow them, as well as other people who post for certain fandoms, I actually found you through the For You page (You were talking about the Liking vs Reblog situation)

The posts I tend to see on the For You page usually have more than a hundred notes, and I tend to enjoy going through the For You page more than my Dashboard.

Why?

Well, I have a bad habit of everything and everyone, this is my fourth tumblr blog, on every Tumblr I have had before this, I followed over 3,000 people, most of whom would get lost in my Dash. Most of these people are artists and writers, on YouTube I have been subscribed to so many people that I think I hit the subscription limit on an account I mainly used to follow animators and YouTube would unsubscribe me by oldest subscription.

Why am I saying all of this?

Well, put this into perspective, I am a blog with less than 10 followers, I am following a lot of artists and if I were to reblog every piece of art that came into my eyesight, I’d honestly be off Tumblr within 10 minutes due to how strict I am with tagging stuff, and for some reason tagging things drains me, I get frustrated every time a tag doesn’t show up in the auto options as I’m typing it, and it doesn’t help that I’m constantly exhausted due to various factors, including depression.

I like things so people know I’ve seen it and enjoyed it. Do I reblog art? Yes, I do, but that’s like, a very small percentage of what I see on my dash weekly. And usually when I reblog stuff in bulk, its me documenting something that is going on, a fandom or tumblr’s reaction to something, or a cool concept I may like to play around with in the future or something that I want to comment on (Or an animatic or animation, those are high on my reblog priority list), other I just reblog because I feel I’m able to in that moment.

I understand that a lot of people on tumblr say “Just reblog it! You need to add tags!!” I can’t just not add tags, I view the contents of my blog as a history thing, if I don’t tag things and I want to look back on something, I won’t be able to find it. At all. Especially not if I want to show someone something.

The worst part to me is when people threaten to block people like me because “I like too much but don’t engage enough”, bro, I physically don’t have enough spoons to reblog every single thing you do, you are punishing me for saying I like your art, there is a possibility for me to reblog your art sometimes, but don’t get mad at me for not reblogging your thing when my depression and exhaustion is telling me that reblogging and tagging everything is just, too much work. I want to relax for a bit, and liking thing is how I say “Great job!”

I do try to reblog smaller artists, but me reblogging isn’t gonna get your post anywhere buddy. If I had more than 15 followers I’d make an bigger effort to reblog art with less notes all the time because there is a higher chance that one of them will be on and see it, but as it stands I believe most of my followers are bots, I barely have the energy to write, and in my opinion getting Likes shows that your post is reaching people and you should be proud of that.

Social media has made a post reaching 5 or 50 people seem like a failure, but if you put that into perspective that’s enough people to fill a room, and how many people do you know who would willingly go to the same place to see the work of a random stranger completely willingly and tell someone they liked it?

Stop comparing posts with hundreds or thousands of notes or views to your own numbers, the fact people saw it and cared enough to leave a sign that they like it is impressive, there have been times when I posted something, hoping it’d gain traction, only for no one to even bother looking twice, I have had so many posts and art pieces that never got a single note in the last 10 years I’ve been on tumblr, less than 50 posts broke 10 notes, I’ve only had 3 posts break 100 notes, and only 1 post go past 500 notes. This is across multiple blogs.

Yes, it can be disappointing when things aren’t reblogged, but it’s a sign people see you, and that’s a good thing, because most people don’t even get that. Engagement of any kind is a sign you’ve done something right, especially when it comes to art. Sure, only getting likes can be a frustrating thing, but don’t let it ruin your day, it’s still valuable, people are looking at you, and if they had decided to not leave those likes, you wouldn’t know they saw you in the first place, because there would no sign anyone even knows you’re there.

hey anon i just wanted to thank you for reaching out and i appreciate your perspective. There's a lot of nuance to the discussion you brought up so i just was replying to your ask to let you know that i read it and appreciate you sending this to me.

I hope youre having a good day!

[gay-spaghetti]

Evil Celine | Who Killed Markiplier? AU

evil celine evil celine evil celine evil celine evil celine evi-!!! ----

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a LONNNNG time, way back when WKM came out in 2017. I remember being so sure that Celine was bad. When DAMIEN came out though, I realized she wasn’t heartless, just stoic and strong!

Buuuuuut~~ this gives me the perfect opportunity me to go crazy with an AU! So what if Celine was the dastardly villain in all of this?

Here’s a summary of the AU under the cut! I’m planning to do a MAP in the near future, so keep an eye out! :D

In this AU, Mark is still a famous and wealthy actor, but he is widely beloved and rather charitable. He occasionally gets a big head, and isn’t always very modest, but he’s by no means a wicked or selfish person. He cherishes his career as an actor, and loves bringing joy to his fans. Mark is also head-over-heels for his wife Celine, a mysterious, and seemingly-magical seer. They met through her twin brother Damien, Mark’s good friend and town mayor.

Celine prides herself in her supernatural work, but unlike her husband, she views power and wealth as what’s most important. Manipulative, greedy, narcissistic, power-hungry---all accurate ways to describe her. Being extremely intelligent, she dropped out of college, viewing it as a waste of time. When her, slightly-younger, brother Damien became mayor, he introduced her to his friend Mark, a well-known celebrity. With Mark’s gorgeous looks, wealth, status, and sweet, flirtatious attitude, the two of them hit it off instantly, and got married a few years later.

After a couple of short years into their marriage, Celine realizes she’s unhappy and rather annoyed, knowing that she doesn’t really love Mark. Originally, she was going to divorce him, but she realized she didn’t want to lose all the wealth she shared with Mark---which technically all belonged to him. So to solve this problem, she resorts to killing her husband to collect the insurance money.

Celine figured this would be easy enough, but something rather bizarre and unexpected happens. After killing him, Mark just comes back to life within a few hours! The next few weeks, Celine does everything she can to end his life. She stabs him, drowns him, chokes him, poisons him, shoots him, and much more, but nothing is successful. He just wont stay dead.

During these attempted murders, Mark is scared and extremely confused, having no idea that Celine is the one doing this. He doesn’t even realize that he’s actually dying and repeatedly coming back. He goes to his dear friend and butler, Ben, to vent his fears and frustrations, going to Celine for comfort too, but she just tells him that these are all simple nightmares. Of course, that doesn’t convince him. Cuts, bruises, gunshot wounds, occasionally choking up water, and other sorts of horrible things are not typically symptoms of bad dreams.

Finally, Mark somewhat realizes what’s happening here. At the very least, he recognizes that his beloved wife is the cause. Celine attempts to kill him yet again, but this time, he was expecting it. After a fight and a loud argument, Mark forces her to leave his home. She happily leaves, finally revealing how she truly feels about Mark. Not only that, but just a week or so later, she gets together with Mark’s friend Colonel William, who thinks Celine and Mark just divorced.

Stricken with agonizing grief, anger, horror, and anguish, Mark soon devises a plan to get back at his sickeningly evil wife. This plan....is the poker party plan.... but with a few differences. 

Being corrupted by heartbreak and the dark influences of the manor, Mark’s scheme is cold and twisted. Not wanting an actual officer or detective to be involved in this, he hires a good friend he met in college, a fellow drama student and actor named Abe, to pretend to be a detective. Their plan was to expose Celine's horrid actions to her brother, and all of Mark’s friends. Ultimately, Mark was going to make sure that Celine “died” in that house, so she could feel exactly what he went through.

Things... don’t exactly go the way they were intended though.

Celine, Damien, William, and the DA are all invited to the poker party, with Chef and Butler Ben attending as well (Obviously). The plan kicks off with DA finding Mark’s dead body. Most of the same things occur; tensions rise, accusations are made, weird happenings from the house, and more, but this time, Celine is there from the start, and Abe is in on it. Also, the scene in the wine cellar does not happen. 

When Celine starts getting rightfully accused, William throws a wrench into things by repeatedly standing up for her, to the point where he and Abe start shouting and pointing guns at each other.

After hours of intensity, high tensions, and strange evil from the house, Celine attempts to put a stop to this. She goes into that small room with her brother, finally being able to recognize the dark powers lying within the mansion. She figures out what Mark is trying to do, and she tries to end it with her dark magic. Damien is scared, confused, and beyond worried.

Meanwhile, Abe hurries to the room to prevent Celine from stopping Mark’s plan, but William blocks him, wholeheartedly believing that his love is innocent. A loud and angry argument ensues, which leaves both men dead. William, a soldier of war, shoots Abe in the chest. Abe, a simple actor with not as much experience with guns as the Colonel, shoots William in reaction to being shot, getting him right in the head. Of course, he dies instantly, and Abe dies just a few minutes after, completely horrified by his actions and the overall situation. The DA is just as, if not more, horrified, having just seen two people kill each other.

While that happens, Celine is performing her wicked magic, her goal being to end Mark for good. She realizes though that for this particular spell to work, she needs a sacrifice. So, being the cold-hearted person that she is, she kills Damien---someone who loved and trusted her. This backfires, and the manor’s evil is proven to be more powerful than Celine. She, along with her brother, turn into the entity called Dark (Dark’s appearance more resembles Celine in this AU). In a confrontation between Dark and Mark in a black, endless void, Mark uses Celine’s life energy to heal his broken body, although scars still cover his form. He shames and condemns Celine for what she’s done, expressing his sorrow for Damien, and the rest of his friends, as he only intended for Celine to suffer. With that, Mark escapes his mansion for good.

The dust settles.... and the manor is quiet. The groundskeeper, butler, and chef, are all long gone, and death overcomes the building. Panicked, confused, and traumatized, DA leaves the manor, but is surprised to find Mark outside! Seeing the pain the DA went through, Mark is shocked, and even feels guilty. He apologizes, and comforts and reassures them, offering his friendship. Still wildly baffled, and a little hesitant, DA accepts.

Back inside the manor, around 15 hours after Mark and the DA leave, Abe and William awaken from their death. They are BEYOND puzzled and definitely traumatized. Stricken with uncertainty and insanity, the two leave together. Dark leaves too, but she makes sure she is not seen. Her quest to successfully kill Mark is nowhere near over.

Over the decades, Mark continues his acting career, but also starts directing! DA is along for the ride, and the two of them, now close friends, get into all sorts of shenanigans and strange adventures.

Abe and Will do as well, but this time, as friends, not enemies. They both lean into their insanity in their own way. They both suffer through it, but Will eventually starts to embrace is, and Abe is stuck feeling traumatized and helpless. As shown above, they become performers together to find purpose. Will becomes a joyful clown, and Abe becomes an anxious and sorrowful mime.

This Dark is very similar to canon Dark, but is way more evil and harsh. She’ll occasionally stick around with William (now Wilford), but is more often than not trying to sabotage Mark and DA’s adventures and shows.

-----

@itsjustkyss @smiledog15578 @huffle-puff-ego

So that’s my AU!! I know that’s a LOT of information.... oof :3 I really hope y’all like it! Feel free to ask me questions about it, draw art, and even suggest ideas for it!

Again, I plan to host an animated MAP for this AU, so keep a lookout for that!

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Graffiti | Jaehyun | 05

Badboy!Tagger Jaehyun | Series Words | 5,000+ Warnings | Language, Mature themes, Blood, Violence

04 | 05 | 06

The way his nose brushed against yours sent a tingle through your spine, bringing you up on your tippy toes to shift between his feet. His eyes had fluttered closed with the proximity, something in him begging to make the step, but you could hear his teeth grind together, feel his fingers covered in crusting paint drop from your cheeks to furl into your jacket against the small of your back. The shift of his feet ground against the loose gravel on the pavement, and that was the only sound besides his soft breathing mingling with your own that you could hear. One of your hands slithered away from the back of his neck and down the curve of his chest, against his immaculate black v-neck under his leather jacket where you could feel the rapid beat of his heart. You leaned into him a little further, trying to give him some encouragement, and his breath hitched a bit.

“You should be afraid of me. You shouldn’t be here. You should be staying as far away from me as you can,” he reasserted stubbornly, trying to tug you away from him with the loose fabric of your light jacket.

“And why would I do that when you’re the only reason I’m alive?” you asked him in return, a breathy reply to his statement.

“Don’t say that,” he growled, trying to sound intimidating, but deep in there you could hear the wounded wolf in that growl. “The only reason—”

“You and I both know that what you’re about to say isn’t true,” you interrupted. “Do you remember what you said to me when we first met? You couldn’t have forgotten, it wasn’t that long ago,” you continued, finding the flat of your feet again but that didn’t stop the way your gaze trailed down his chest where you were already drawing inane lines and shapes, remembering exactly what he said to you.

He scoffed, almost feeling mocked, and you could feel him shut off from you a little bit. “My apologies, a lot of things have happened in the days since I met you. Forgive me for not remembering,” he told you, but his politeness was more patronizing than anything, and it was intended to be that way.

Despite that, a small smile tugged at your lips as your gaze got lost in the dark cotton of his tee-shirt. “You introduced yourself to me, and said it was very nice to have saved my life. And ever since that day, you’ve continued to save my life, even when you think you’re not.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, and then you put your jacket over my shoulders, took me home, asked for my phone number, and kissed the back of my hand.”  You could see the tendons in his neck tense as he clenched his jaw before swallowing hard. “My guess is that something happened, which gave you this nick and damaged your hand, and then your whole demeanor changed because even though you’ve dealt with this for a long time, you understand that there’s someone else in the middle now, and for some reason, you think it’s all your fault.”

“Stop,” he pleaded again, the wound on his hand suddenly stinging like a fresh burn.

“But none of it is your fault. You didn’t do anything, so why beat yourself up about it? If I even remotely thought it was your fault, I wouldn’t keep coming back—”

“I’m going to kiss you if you don’t stop,” he interrupted, and suddenly his breathing was a little erratic, his grip turned into wide palms tugging you into him again, instead of trying to pull you away from him.  

“But I do keep coming back, because something about you is so captivating, and speaks to the deepest parts of my soul, and I just can’t stay away from you,” you breathed, feeling his feet shift forward, right hand leaving your back to press against the wall to imprint another hand against his work. He pulled your arch deep into him, warm mouth slanting against yours to silence you for at least a moment so he could attempt to collect his thoughts. The way your arms draped back around his neck, relishing the kiss, drew a sigh against your mouth, a warm exhale from his nose against your face.

He was the first to break the kiss, but obviously wasn’t done. He readjusted, switching sides of your nose to recollect your lips in a kiss that was more ardent, definitely not as reserved as the first sweet lip-lock, a culmination of all the times he told himself it was a bad idea compounded into one. His hand pinned against the wall slipped away enough to turn you to a bare adjacent wall, but the second you hit it, he was pulling away again. The kiss broke quietly, but not without a quick protest of your gentle nip against his bottom lip that he swiped his tongue against a second later. He begged to touch your cheek with that paint stained hand, and so vainly attempted to wipe it away on the back of his jeans.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his firm chest first before looking up into his glittering gaze that looked down at you like the most fragile and beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen. His jaw was clenching, and he looked somewhat displeased.

“How can you just… break me down like that?” he asked softly, hardly a whisper. And the hand he’d tried so hard not to touch you with came up to put a paint streak against your cheek. You didn’t mind, you just looked up at him with a soft smile, eyes a little fluttery and all you could think about for a moment was the burn of his mouth against yours. One of your hands cupped the side of his neck, your gaze shifting between his eyes and his mouth and eventually guided him back down to you so you could collect his lips again.

This time, he pushed you into the wall with little reservations. Your warm tongue danced with his, and his hands took such a possessive grip of your hips to pull you against him that it almost made your head spin. His mouth was aggressive against yours, trying to collect more that there wasn’t to collect, heavy exhales through his nose a good indicator of his pent-up desires, but before he got too far, he broke the kiss again.

“You’re dangerous,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours while his eyes struggled to open.

“That’s funny, because you’ve been spending every day since I met you telling me how dangerous you are; I think your concept of dangerous is a little skewed,” you told him. The events that had happened leading up to this moment were gone from your immediate memory; all you knew was Jaehyun—his kiss and his warm body against yours.

“I think your concept of dangerous is skewed,” he told you with the quirk of his brow after pulling away from your forehead.  “Why are you out looking for me, anyway, especially this late?” he asked you, gaze turning serious as the haze began to lift. He still had you pinned against the wall, a possessive grip around you as he looked down at you. There was a tenseness in his brow that you couldn’t quite place.

“You ignored me all day,” you reminded him.

His jaw tightened in frustration. He still hadn’t completely got through everything he should have been thinking about only to be interrupted to have to see you much too soon—not that he didn’t want to see you. A chain of events pushed those thoughts to the back because his primary focus became you in the face of danger once again because of him.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’ve had a lot going on, thinking about you—the best way to protect you, the best way to make it easier on both of us…”

His explanation died a little bit with the way you placed a chaste kiss against his bottom lip. His shoulders slumped a little bit, but not in relaxation, more in defeat. The fire against his lips was a feeling he craved, now, and without much more to say, he cupped your jaw and kissed you once more.

“Duchess…,” he growled, frustrated with the way that every time he tried to build back up, you could push his blocks down so easily all over again. His hands took your hips, pushing you firmly against the brick of the building behind your back, putting you back up on your toes. His eyes looked over every detail of your face from your chin up to your eyes where he almost glared. It was the roughest gaze he’d ever given you, and it still wasn’t that rough. It was meant to be a warning, and you took it as such even knowing there wasn’t much, if anything, behind it.  

“I’m serious,” he tried to remind you, but it was an attempt next to vain, “You’re in danger because of me.”

“I’d argue you are in danger because of me,” you replied, the quietness of your voice matching his as he tried to steer the conversation in a more serious direction, which is probably where it needed to be.

“I’ve always been in danger,” he said.

“But you arguably have to put yourself in situations now where you would otherwise avoid,” you said.

“And how do you know that for sure?”

“Because I’m going to bet that these injuries,” you started, taking the wrist of his damaged hand to remind the both of you of the injury that tainted it, “came on your way home from dropping me off, which is why your replies were delayed and spotty and why your attitude has changed so drastically.”

Jaehyun��s jaw clenched tightly; how was it that you could just look into his eyes for a moment too long and seem to know so much, or at least enough to keep him on his toes, to keep him guessing about you. You were still on your toes, pressed into that wall with Jaehyun’s feet shuffled in between yours and he looked at you like he had something to say, like he wanted to ask you how you knew about it or had enough to guess.

“Maybe it’s the way you said you’ve been thinking about the best way to protect me,” you added, as if to read his mind which was trying to figure out how you had made such an astute guess in the first place. Truth be told, he was coming to the realization of just how much you paid attention and how closely you did. Most things he has said to you, you probably remembered; the things you’ve seen, with and about him, were probably in permanent memory.  

Somehow, the shiver that ripped through your body put all of that aside from his mind. His instincts were to protect you, even if that meant from the elements, and so he stepped away and shrugged his jacket off to whip around you before noting the time, noting the sleep in your eyes.

“It seems like no matter how I try to delay this talk, you’re insistent on having it; but if you don’t mind, let’s talk about it at your place, so at least I know you’re home safely,” he finally said to you after a few moments of looking over your features, especially noticing the way you sunk into his jacket, relishing the familiar warmth and scent of oakwood fire and a teakwood musk exclusive to Jaehyun. “And I’m not about to stand out here and watch you shiver,” he reminded you, and reached for your hand to gently bring it up to his lips to kiss against your knuckles as he looked deep into your eyes.

You conceded, at least for that. You wouldn’t stand for him shivering in placement of you, only guarded by the short sleeves of his black shirt and you could already see the goosebumps pricking at his skin; so, you nodded, and let his long fingers lace with yours to begin tugging you in the direction of your apartment building. In the back of your mind, you took solace in the fact that he would be safe inside the confines of your apartment for what you presumed might be the night as you sorted things out—although you weren’t sure too much about what there was to sort out.

It wasn’t a long walk to your place, but you still noticed the caution he used while navigating the streets, a caution he didn’t have before. You were starting to piece together the territory that surrounded this area—that it didn’t belong to Jaehyun and his boys, that he was on the wrong side of town taking you home. He walked as quickly as your legs would take you without breaking into a light jog, and you could feel the relief wash through the aura hanging over the two of you as you pushed through the doors of your complex and made it over to the elevator where he was quick to press the chrome polished circle to bring the carriage to the ground floor.

You looked up at the side of his face, noting the obvious millions of things going through his mind, all trying to find their spot at one time as he stared as his distorted reflection in the polished doors of the carriage, not even noting what floor you had pressed on the array of buttons before the arrival bell was signaling that it was time to come back to life. He followed you mindlessly down the hallway before coming across a door and he couldn’t be bothered to consciously remember the number that adorned it, as you were reaching into the inner pocket of your light jacket to produce your key to turn the lock and open the door.

Immediately, he was met by a rush of incense, a scent familiar to him which had woven in your hair and clothes and swirled in his airways now a handful of times. The couch-side lamp was on to greet you when you returned home, along with a number of unscented candles. He was slow to make his way into your home, feeling like he was entering another universe without permission, before you were finally able to get the door closed behind him and courteously retrieve him a glass of water and offered him a place to sit.

Your voice was merely a blur in his consciousness, so he opted to stand with that cool glass in his hand before he drank it all down. His quick scan hardly took in the dainty and simplistic features of your apartment which surrounded a plush living room set up.

“Jaehyun…” you finally said, as if triggering him to return to this dimension once more.

“He could have killed you,” he reminded you, his voice far weaker than it was before. “He could have killed you, and it would have gotten me.”  For a moment, you thought you saw tears build in his eyes, watched the crop up against his water line as he stared into the abyss at some obscure corner of your apartment. He clenched his eyes closed tightly, and his jaw, as he staved off those emotions for a moment before he could feel your warm hands on his cheeks.

You finessed the glass out of his hand to place on the kitchen table, which you were standing all too close to just inside the doorway of your apartment, before your hands collected his cheeks again to make him look at you. His eyes were glassy, there was no mistaking it. Perhaps finally being within four walls that presumably protected the two of you without him having to be on high alert allowed him to really process one full thought—it was the thought at the forefront of his mind, that had been since Yuta had discovered you in danger in the open street.

He looked down at you, still donned in his jacket, before he couldn’t help but gather you in his arms, wrapping you tightly up at the waist to tug you into his firm body enough for him to slide his face into the crook of your neck—half hiding his face from you so that you couldn’t see, at least, his shattering resolve, and half just enjoying the very fact that warm blood was still pumping through your veins at a lively rate, that you stood in his arms drawing breath knowing that you could have easily been gone just an hour or so prior. The complexity of your situation now was beyond repair. There was an indescribable yet undeniable tug you had for each other; as it were, you were stuck between a rock (continuing the path you were on) and a hard place (splitting up knowing it wouldn’t solve anything). The way in which Jaehyun’s hands furled against you, pulling you impossibly closer, was perhaps a good indicator of his feelings, too. Not only that, but declaring that he had been trying to think of a situation that made it easier on the both of you… it seemed out of the question at this point—there was no easier option which was probably a reality he was also coming to the realization of.  

“Why don’t we sit down?” you suggested, stroking through the toasted honey hair on the back of his head by which to soothe him, at least to the best of your ability. It took a moment, but he eventually rose from the crook of your neck only to nestle you against his chest and rest his chin atop your head, at least for another moment before he let you guide him over to your couch. He took a seat first while you stayed standing, wanting to really observe him. He was breathing deeply, trying to control anything that he could about the situation, but mostly himself, as he stared past you.

“I don’t get attached,” he reminded you, “much less like this, with you… I don’t believe in fate, or destiny, or whatever; but how can’t I when I’ve been thrown into such a decisive situation? I’ve been going over all the ways to try to make it easier, but nothing about leaving you, about going our separate ways, is going to help anything,” he said, reaching out for your hand to play with your fingers only to meet your eyes at the tail end of his thoughts. “How stupid, honestly, that you’d get trapped with me like this.”

That last sentence panged your insides, gave a sinking feeling in your stomach; he had always talked as if all he’s ever done is plague your very existence.

“You know I don’t think that,” you told him, voice tender as to not disturb him too much.

“No disrespect, but you’re a fool. I was a fool to ask to see you again, knowing the risks. But you were fool to not run when I said. You were a fool to try to see the best in me despite the situation I’ve now put us both in—”

“A situation you didn’t decide. You and Yejun can, in fact, exist on your own without each other. And if you don’t recall, they were after me before I even knew you, so what difference does it make now?”

“It makes a difference now because he has a personal vendetta against me which previously had nothing to do with you, and now, because of me, has everything to do with you, and only makes the situation now far more difficult because you…” he trailed off, making his way back to his feet to take both of your cheek in his warm hands to step you back just a tad. “You’re like my own personal grade of addiction,” he almost growled through his teeth as his eyes looked over your face, scanning it a couple of times. The paint that had dried against your cheek was peeling away the more he stroked against it with his thumb. “He can get to me with you… and that’s something I’m still trying to wrap my head around, so forgive me for not answering you as I should have.”

It was funny, the way the two of you pushed past all the events of the last two days, just left with each other, both on the verge of black eyes—yours which probably could have benefitted from a bag of frozen peas, because you were sure his already had—even ignoring the scrape of the gauze around his hand against your cheek. It was almost as if you had resigned yourself already to this being the norm with Jaehyun, without him having remind you a hundred times.  You knew eventually it would be addressed; but a lot of confessions were going on beyond the fact that it was very early in the morning and the both of you needed sleep and probably a shower.

Jaehyun’s intense, yet affectionate, gaze was broken up by the incessant vibrating in his pocket. He took a deep breath, hard pressed to break away from you, but did so to finesse that phone out of his pocket to look at the caller ID as well as the time—nearly two thirty.  

“Hello?” he answered hesitantly and stepped away from you, leaving you to stand in the middle of your living room with his only warmth being that of his jacket still slung across your shoulders. You tried not to listen too close to the conversation, but there wasn’t much else to focus on.

“Yes, we’re safe. No, I don’t need you to come get me. No. No, I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re staying,” you interjected, leaving no room for ifs, ands, or buts.  Jaehyun peered over at you, a lull in the conversation. “I’m not asking. I’ll not let you go,” you reaffirmed.  All he could do was nod hesitantly at your demand.

“It’s figured out. I’m good. No. No. Taeyong, no. It’s that or I leave now—”

“I just said—” Jaehyun leaned over to press a kiss against your cheek, covering the receiver, giving you a settling look that he wasn’t truly negotiating.

“Yes; I’ll be back early. Yes. I’m fine; I’ve survived worse on my own. Yes. Okay bye.” The range of emotions that crossed Jaehyun’s face incorporated the emotions of entire novel in that one phone conversation.  He discarded his phone on the couch side table, knowing full well he’d be crashing on the couch for the night, or at least what was left of it.  His words weren’t settling, at least not at the end.

“I don’t mean to intrude any more than I already have, but would you allow me to use your shower?” he asked hesitantly, nervously avoiding your gaze before you were softly taking his arm to take him through your apartment, through your room to the bathroom and rummaged through the linen closet for a fresh towel, fresh washcloth, and fresh bar of soap.  

“Take all the time you need,” you told him, watching to overwhelmed expression on his face with just how accommodating you were being for him. You shut the door to the bathroom, leaving him to look around for a second. It was brightly lit, tidy as could be even with a countertop full of products of all arrays. Your shower looked easy enough to use after he opened the door shielded with opaque glass panes, so he got to it quickly. He would only take long enough to fog up the mirror with distinct purpose: he couldn’t stand to see himself in his own mirror, much less in yours—someone who should be putting distance between the two of you; it was still a severe reminder of the rift in his mindset over what he thought you deserved, which was better than him.  

He returned to the living room still toweling his hair, concerned about a cover for his hand which he tried his best to keep out of the water, and cleared his throat to interrupt your determined making of the pullout couch for him to stay on.  You startled in surprise and turned to him—tousled wet hair in his face, a shy smile on his lips, avoidant of your gaze before you were quick to take the towels from him, but immediately dropped them to the floor at the sight of his hand which you tugged into yours. It was red, angry, a tad bit bloody and not even touching the beginning stages of healing in your opinion. He wanted so desperately to pull it away from you, but didn’t want to cause a stink, either.

“It’s nothing,” he tried, “I just need a cover, if you have anything.”

“It’s not nothing! It’s deep… did you see a doctor?” you asked him, only for him to unceremoniously scoff in your face before apologizing.

“Dr. Yuta,” he joked. “It’s fine. It’s cleaned out and closed well I just…” he trailed off. It didn’t matter what he said, it wasn’t going to stave the concern knitting your brow together as you kept looking it over, again and again from a different angle as if it was going to change the fact. Once you’d gone through it with his hand, you were reminded of the cut on his face and looked up to him—that one was much more shallow, but still scabbed.  “I’m fine,” he reiterated softly, gingerly taking your hand away from his face.

He towered over you, but it was comforting, especially as you looked up into his eyes to note the glitter of the night sky that shimmered in them. He looked at you tenderly, still holding onto your hand as he guided it back down to your sides. His damp hair still produced droplets of water that threatened to race down his face, but you couldn’t help to look past that, focused entirely on him, his warmth, his protection.

“Do you have a big bandaid I can put over it?” he asked you, almost jolting you back to life, frozen in time just looking up at him—a truly ethereal being with such complicated history you wanted to know so much about. You took a deep breath and turned to the kitchen without a word to find your stash of bandaids, finding the largest one you had which would suffice. For some reason, when he went to take it from your hands, you pulled it away from him.

“I’ll do it,” you said to him, hardly louder than a whisper as your eyes traveled from his cut and back up to his face. His expression was surprised, probably shocked that you had tugged it away from him. He opened his mouth, prompting for words to come out.

“Okay,” he barely breathed back, and observed as you opened the packaging and slipped the large bandaid out only to take his hand and turn it so the injured side was turned upwards. You flipped back the paper protectors and lined the pad as evenly over the cut as you could, skillfully pulling the protectors away to apply the bandaid squarely, rubbing the adhesive with your thumbs.

He couldn’t help but notice how soft your fingers where against his palm, how diligently you rubbed at the adhesive to make sure it wouldn’t come off, the caring way you looked down at your work, and somewhere in the depths of his very existence, he was convinced, for once, that you truly wouldn’t care about his past. That you would, as you claimed, appreciate it because it made him who he was, especially considering the circumstances of the past couple of days. Any sane person would be jarred by the experience, would be running to get away from it but you—you had to be insane.

“Has anyone ever told you how soothing and reassuring you are?” he asked you, seemingly out of the blue. You were zoning again, appreciating the warmth of his hand against yours, hardly noting his intense gaze as he looked down at you. You caught his gaze again, the question in your eyes so you didn’t even have to ask. “Your aura is just very collected, it’s refreshing.”

“I think you’re delusional,” you laughed, trying to push the blush that was pricking the nerves in your cheeks; you could feel it rising, and your hands finally fell from his. “Or, you just need some sleep,” you reminded him, turning to snatch the cup he drank out of from your dining room table to fill it back up with water from the filtered pitcher in your fridge just to pass him to set it next to his phone on the end table of your couch. “But, I think we both could use some sleep—it’s been an interesting couple of days,” you added with a laugh, trying to keep it a bit light.

He conceded with a laugh in return and moseyed over to where you were standing, almost gesturing him to the done-up couch. He looked it over for a moment; the first time he’d be sleeping on a ‘bed’ bigger than a twin since he could remember with more than one pillow that wasn’t flat as a board and a comforter with actual body to it. He looked over to you, zoning out again, and reached for your hand to bring it up against his lips to kiss against it several times between thinking of things to say and ultimately giving up.

“Rest easy,” he finally said, dropping your hand back to your side just to tuck some hair behind your ear affectionately.

“You, too,” you replied, looking seemingly right through him. He could see it was taking a toll, now, the more tired you became. That hand cupped your jaw, bringing your eyes up to his before they traveled down to your mouth—yet another decision to make—before finally letting you go, and watched you turn to disappear into your room.

[fandomsilhouette]

they’ve got a bad reputation (they’ll get a standing ovation)

The spotlight clicks on, floods the stage until the shadows are sent scampering away, every flaw and every fear in sharp contrast for the audience to feast upon; but what horrors lurk where the darkness prowls, trapped at the edges of the script like handcuffs around the actor? May life mirror art at the best of times, the worst of times. 

Happy @felinettenovember, y’all! We’re back to terrible o’clock writing times with @musicfren, who is collaborating with me on this fic-turned-mechanism-through-which-to-preach-on-the-spot-Hamlet-analysis. He’ll be posting the second part on his account tomorrow, during which the bulk of my meta nonsense is going to come through. Are you following him yet? @emzurl spoiled this whole story with their art and @dumpsdoods simply spoils me with theirs. 

Part 1 below. Part 2 upcoming.

“Alright, take ten, my dudes! We’ll go from Act III, Scene 1 after you get some snacks and chill.” 

Marinette lets out an amused laugh as she thumbs through her copy of the script, ignoring the throng of hungry students pushing past her, desperate for this grueling 5 hour rehearsal to end. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but certainly not of this play. Nino makes a good director, she thinkst: loud, relentlessly positive, able to carry the sagging energy of an entire unwilling highschool production on his shoulders.

But alas, poor Nino is fighting a losing battle. Everyone knows that the point of this play is the obligatory report they will all have to write for their literature class at the end of the week. Almost no one here can act, and Marinette’s arms are beginning to grow tired from carrying up the entire play. With scarcely a week left it looks like most people are planning to coast the rest of the way to a clean C+. The part of Hamlet still has not been cast.

Akuma attacks have pushed back the discussions they were meant to have on the play, and Bustier couldn’t cancel the major assignment for the unit; instead, she had told them to analyze the play through the role of their choice after embodying it for the few weeks it took to rehearse and perform the production. Their in-class discussions have been condensed into a take-home paper on top of the already obligatory theatre performance and pretty much everyone knows that Bustier would be lenient on them just for that. And Nino knows they know, and Marinette is starting to suspect that he is itching to “chill” like he keeps telling them to. 

Marinette chews on the corner of her pencil, running a finger over the veritable bloodbath of neat pink notes she’s crammed into the margins of every page. She’s on in the next scene, and she wants to make sure she’s got all the nuances of the character, her character, exactly as she plans to bring her to life. Looking over the script, Marinette starts to regret not typing the notes to begin with: her entire essay is definitely already fully composed. Maybe Max will consider building her an application that can scan the document and transpose it to a word processor as editable text… 

“Give me your hand, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” 

Marinette looks up to see Felix quoting Shakespeare, trying very hard to look inconspicuous in his black stage-hand clothes, wheeling a stand of fake swords almost as tall as he was. She watches with some amusement as he struggles to set it upright, and makes absolutely no move to help him. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you on stage any time this week,” she says, sticking her tongue out and being far cuter than it had any right to be. Felix, sweating, scrambles for a riposte. 

“I hadn’t expected you out of the home ec room at all. Shouldn’t you be half-drowned in fabric or something?” 

She sends him a quizzical look. He wonders if the akuma attacks have scrambled her memory. “Because...you’ve got costumes to work on? As the play’s costume designer?” 

“Oh, I’m not doing costumes this year, actually.” Marinette laughs awkwardly. “I’m not even sure what I would write about if I were.” 

Felix stares at her. The sword he was carrying slid out of his grasp with a dull clang.

“...what are you writing about as a stagehand?” 

Felix decides to pretend the last few moments were a fever dream and focus on answering this one very reasonable question. “I’m looking at the blocking and the prop placement and the lighting and how it impacts the effect of the character portrayal on the audience and what information manages to get conveyed to the audience.” 

Marinette offers a suitably impressed ooh at this. “How far have you gotten with it?” 

“Darling, we don’t even have a Hamlet. The titular character. I’ve done nothing.” Felix offers the most deadpan look he can muster and startles at her giggle. “What, how far have you gotten?!”

Marinette flashes her script at him, more notes than dialogue at this point. 

“You are possibly the only person in the class thinking anything even remotely deep about this play. What is all that for?!” 

“Hopefully for a handwritten notes to editable text conversion app.” 

Felix only narrowly avoids gaping. What?! “...is that what’s scrawled on every corner of that script you’re clutching?” He grins crookedly at her, and her traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“...oh! no, um, those are my notes. For… my essay? I’ve written out the character analyses into where the text supports my arguments and… um… yeah.” She flushes with the realization that 1) that was completely out of context for him because 2) he cannot, in fact, read her mind. 

“...Marinette, for what do you possibly need notes?” 

“...to play my character?” 

“Oh, wow, are you playing a guy? Impressive, tiny girl.” He rakes his gaze down her body and Marinette is flushed for a whole new reason now. She pushes to her feet and doesn’t bother to care about the swords she knocks over. 

“I’m not, actually.” 

“Why?! Who is there to play among the female characters? Marinette, I took you as someone who plays characters of worth.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide with dangerous innocence “Are female characters not valuable?” 

“I-- no, that’s not what I meant and you know it! Shakespeare is historical, and male-centric, and writes women who do little more than parrot the views of the men around them if they get any dialogue at all. There’s no substance there! Who are you possibly going to play, Gertrude? Ophelia?!?” Felix’s tone makes it very clear what he thinks of the only two options she has available to her. 

Marinette sweeps past him coolly, her hair whipping against his cheek. “I am playing Ophelia, actually.”

Stumbling, Felix turns and gives her a wry grin. “Oh darn, I’m sorry for your loss.” He makes a valiant effort at replicating her stuck out tongue, not that Marinette is looking. It’s for the best: it’s not nearly as cute on him. 

“Excuse you?” Marinette halts in her tracks, shadowed amongst the heavy curtains of stageside. Her voice echoes hauntingly around the empty theatre. 

“...c’mon. Ophelia does less than Gertrude. She even has fewer lines!”

With great restraint, Marinette manages to do nothing more than turn to face Felix, trembling with repressed rage. “Does less? Ophelia is the only person in this play who does anything at all that isn’t driven by a madman’s plot! Ophelia is the only person in this play who can pull Hamlet out of insanity, even if for little more than a moment.” 

Frustrated, Felix tosses the nearest item at her and growls when she catches it neatly. It’s a victory when she stalks off across the stage to the opposite wing, gathering her notes and settling herself neatly in a prim fury. She’s wrong, she’s wrong, she’s wrong. He whirls around and starts rearranging everything she knocked over, grumbling under his breath. 

“Ophelia is the only character in that play who makes zero choices of her own. Even her death was a result of her tripping into a lake.”

There’s a crashing sound, and Felix spins back around to see Marinette bolt upright, tempestuous in her temper. Felix may have gotten a bit too loud with that last statement.

“How can you say that? That’s the most significant choice she makes in the whole play!”

Felix can feel the irritation rising, hot and ugly in his chest. Why is she being so stubborn? Marinette makes a gesture at him, quick and angry from the other side of the room. Felix squints and tilts his head, struggling to what she was doing from across the stage. Then all at once it hits him.

“Do… do you bite your thumb at me?!” He splutters in indignant incoherency, his grip tightening on whatever he’s holding until the plastic grooves bite into his skin. 

“I do bite my thumb at thee, sir.” 

Felix steps onto stage, glaring. Marinette matches him step for step, glare for angry glare. Nino gasps, cowers, and then grabs his camera.

The class, milling around aimlessly as their ten minutes ticked to an end, comes to a collective halt. Nino sheppards them out of the way of the camera’s shot. They flock without protest to the edges of the theatre, terrified to watch this trainwreck unfold, terrified they’ll miss even a second of it. The die has been cast. Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Nino can only hope that the set backgrounds manage to come out of this intact.

[mycelier]

Xena Coffee Shop A/U Idea

So Gabrielle works in coffee shop, maybe Starbucks, but more likely a smaller more niche store that is soft and quiet with big squishy couches where all the regulars know and love her. She’s exhausted from managing the place without being an official manager (or maybe she is idk) but she smiles often and the place remains busy despite a Starbucks having moved in just around the block because (although she would absolutely deny this) the patrons look forward to her positivity and advice. But people know not to mess with her or try to cause trouble for her or any of her fellow employees because although she is sweet she’ll kick you out if you even THINK about being rude to any of the employees.

Xena founded a karate/jujitsu/something hybrid gym SOMETHING where her primary focus is helping people (in particular, women or marginalized people who feel weak or unsafe or feel incapable of protecting themselves), but she doesn’t turn away people if they come to her for the right reasons. She hosts daily fighting lessons using different techniques (jujitsu, weapons, hand to hand, p much everything) and had reached an almost legendary status to those who have come to her in their time of need. It is well known in many circles that Xena used to the be the head of a....gang? Crime syndicate? Mob? I’m not sure, but something HUGE and something that made her a lot of money and a LOT of enemies before she left the life for good. I kind of like the idea of her being some kind of crime boss for some huge underground syndicate because that gives some room for some kidnappings and crazy stuff but also that’s hot as hell.

Joxer DEFINITELY becomes an employee by simple virtue of being in the store so much and bugging her so much that he may as well be being paid for it (but also he is...surprisingly good at creating new roasts and making cool new drinks so why not). He thinks he’s suave (like Ares) but deep down knows he’s not.

Ares is the obnoxious rude ass businessman who treads the line of being banned from the store but is accepted only because he buys ENORMOUS amounts of their coffee for his meetings or whatever. He’s buff as hell and has reflexes that put a cat to shame. I’m not sure if he’s officially into martial arts but he knows a lot of things from a lot of places. OH MAYBE HE IS LIKE BIG BOSS OF CRIME SYNDICATE THAT HAD BEEN PARTNERED WITH XENA’S IDK.

Ephiny is a student of Xena’s; she’s amazing but struggles with trusting partners after the loss of her husband (Phantes). Her son is just getting to the point of toddling and she already has him INVOLVED with Xena as much as is physically possible. She also works with Gabrielle in the coffee shop and is the eventual link that brings Gab and Xena together.

Callisto was Xena’s top student and top pain in the ass until the loss of her family. She now trains at a “rival” dojo. She’s constantly proclaiming herself better than Xena and trying to take Xena down a notch or two despite the fact that that’s not how any of this works. She lost her mom and sister in a fire and blames Xena (she was 8 or 9 and a student at Xena’s dojo; Xena took her home one evening with nobody came to pick her up after practice. she tried to run into the burning building but it was too far gone. she claims Xena kept her from saving her family but deep down thinks that if she hadn’t been at practice she might have been able to save them). She will probably have some kind of redemption arc because I feel bad for her even though she is irredeemable (from what I’ve seen so far in the show).

Perdicus worked at the coffee shop but left to figure out how he could win Gabby’s heart (they grew up together and he’s loved her since he knew what love was but she’s always been...unsure). He’s gonna be in the thing as like...some kind of friend at the very least because Callisto did him dirty in the show and I liked him.

Iolus and Hercules MAY run the “rival” gym. “Rival” continues to be in quotes because although everyone in the town sees them (Xena and Herc) as rivals, they have nothing but respect for one another. Herc is in love with Xena (she thought she loved him too..once.) and Iolus THINKS he’s in love with Xena and then thinks he loves Gabby but realizes he loves Hercules; this may be a uniting factor for Xena and Gabby as they work to try and help Iolus overcome his insecurities and confess his feelings to Hercules (who will be startled but is bi as hell and will be really excited because he thought Iolus was SUPER into Gabby/straight as could be).

Autolycus is an art thief a la Cary Grant in Psych. He has a lot of money but lives relatively modestly and donate a fair amount to charities and to Gabby’s coffee shop, all under a pseudonym of course because it could never get out that he secretly wants to be Robin Hood more than anything in the world. Perhaps at some point the coffee shop has gone broke (maybe Krykus runs the shop and he’s an asshole who doesn’t care and ends up stealing a ton of money and running off into the night?????) and Autolycus (and Xena) band together to purchase the shop and put it to Gabby’s name (which upsets Gabby at first until she realizes that they were helped by the ENTIRE STAFF and a lot of the loyal customers because they love her and they love the changes she’s made to the shop).

I’m thinking...maybe one night, late, after Gabby had to stay to do inventory and order stock, she’s mugged. They have a gun and although she’s willing to give them what’s in her wallet, she fights back when they threaten to physically assault her and she ends up punched a few times. Now, depending on how dark I want this to be...she’s either beat up BAD and ends up joining the gym after Ephiny finds her and takes her to the hospital and demands she take better care of herself....but more likely (because it’s HOTTER), Gabby is saved by Xena, who had also been at her gym late doing an inventory and stock of the small pre-packaged bars and shakes she sells or something, important because maybe Gabby will start providing some kind of healthy snack as a thank you to Xena??? Anyway, Xena busts in after Gabby’s beat up and saves the damn day. Now!!! Either Xena falls in love INSTANTLY but keeps it way down because that’s who she is, or she simply thinks Gabby is cute (’m not decided) and is delighted at first when she sees Gabby show up to her gym. Gabby is enraged and frustrated that she wasn’t able to protect herself and Xena shows her how to redirect and channel her anger away from doing harm and into protecting herself.

This will EVENTUALLY and ultimately be a Xena x Gabby fic but I think it’s gonna take a while for Gabby to get there. When she realizes she loves Xena it will hit her like a sack of bricks and she won’t be able to breathe for a few moments as she takes in the woman who has become her best friend in the entire world and realizes that she absolutely loves her.

And that’s more writing or thinking about writing than I’ve done in eons but I wanted to get it down somewhere.

[pomrania]

I asked for breeds of dogs to draw as pokemon types, and here they are. Some are more recognizable than others, both in type and dog breed, and some look better than others, and some were easier than others; but it was good practice.

Below the cut, there’s my running commentary throughout the process, preserved for posterity. Basically it’s just me complaining about things, but if you want to read it, that’s your decision.

WHY DID I THINK I COULD DO THIS, this was artistic hubris.

Okay, look up a compilation video for the first breed on the list, that should provide a good point of reference.

Heh goldies are funny doggos.

Okay this isn't actually so bad once I get into it.

FUCK HOW DO YOU DRAW HINDQUARTERS

Okay I remember what beagles look like, this video is a good refresher; I slept with a stuffed toy beagle when I was a kid, I got the general stuff down.

HOW THE HECK DO I MAKE THIS INTO A GHOST-TYPE

So I guess I'm going with ghostly extra wagging tails, sure why not.

A dragon-type borzoi, okay, these dogs already look like dragons, this should be easy. ...words spoken just before disaster, I know it.

Heheh them doggos got long snoots.

What was that heraldic unicorn pose again, that should work well for them....

This looks just like a dog and not like a dragon-type DAMMIT.

Next is CORGI hell yeah! They're so hecking CUTE, and I know I won't be able to draw them to their full adorable, but at least I'll have fun watching the reference video.

This seems to be coming along well.

I wasn't planning on colouring them, but I might have to, to get the markings shown properly. But that will be AFTER I've done everything else.

Flying-type samoyed! I love samoyeds, they're so FLOOFY. Well actually the person suggested air-type, but euh.

Okay I have a good idea for this one. Don't know how well it'll turn out, but that's art for you.

Okay yes this is adorable and I love it.

Most of what I know about rottweilers, is that pretty much all of them that I've met, have been aggressively friendly, like "knock you over in an effort to lick every square inch of your face" aggressively friendly. Not really sure how I can convey that, or how I can show a rock-type, but that's what "trying things and seeing what happens" is for.

Oh frick I'm gonna have to draw 3D geometrics for the "rock" stuff ain't I.

Hm a "geode" type design might be cool; I'm prolly not the best person for that, but I'll bloody well try anyways.

Aaand I hit a major block, what even POSE do I use for this. Gah. Welp, when in doubt, go for the most basic stuff possible. Can I do better than that? Yes. WILL I do better than that, right at this moment? Probably not.

Rotties are big chonks aren't they.

Hm. Okay this doesn't necessarily look very "rottweiler", but it DOES cover up a bunch of my mistakes in anatomy, and I've always thought this style looks cool.

...I think I'm just going to skip "fighting-type boxer", since I'm willing to bet actual money that someone has already drawn that, it's just so obvious. And also this was one of two suggestions, so I don't feel guilty about ignoring that person (because I didn't ignore them).

Labs are like the most "generic" looking dogs I can think of, how am I gonna do this cool?

Two compilation videos later, I don't even have a CONCEPT in mind. The best idea I have is something playing off of a snowman, but that's literally it; those words, no image.

Heh, maybe one jumping in the air with a dopey expression to catch a snowflake? Seems a bit complicated, but I'll think on it.

Huh I don't think I've ever drawn a dog chasing their own tail before. It's a good exercise in posing and "okay if this motion is being made, how would the limbs move". Still frustrating though.

But how do I make it ICE-TYPE?! At least I have some vague ideas for the next one, but that's for ONCE I'VE FINISHED THIS ONE.

...I'm at a loss. I'm going to look up ice-type pokemon for some inspiration.

So it seems to be mostly shown in colouring, WELL THAT'S NO HELP TO ME.

Screw it I'm going basic as hell. ...or maybe just STUPID as hell, because I decided to draw a dog wearing skates.

This was the worst of all of them, but it's DONE now.

Maltese doggos already look like fairies, but I've learned from the borzoi one, that this just makes it HARDER. (They sure are hecking adorable though.)

They're just little puffs of fur! How can I make them look distinct?

Oh yeah there's also the "show" grooming they can have.

Some vague ideas, but I'll also check the list of fairy-type pokemon for inspiration.

Okay I'm just going to go full Baby as that seems to be the general trend.

This just looks like a regular maltese.

That's not MUCH better, but it's SOMETHING, and that's the end of the list so woot I'm done.

[mokutone]

,, i dont,, know jackshit about naruto,, but,,,,,,, your watercolor pieces are so good??? like???????? SO GOOD?????

Here's the obligatory ask (since I started trying to use watercolors): are you aware of any tips for that particular medium? Like, are the brushes and watercolor quality really important or is that just my imagination? Also, how 2 mix colors and not die-

LMAO thanks!! I’m glad you think so!

I do have a lot of tips for watercolor, but I’ll start with the material questions. I would say that the quality of the tools can be fairly important, but like, it’s not make or break.

Supplies Information:

Disclaimer: None of this is necessary! You can make great art with any material available to you. All materials have different strengths and weaknesses, but you can create things that bring joy with the most rudimentary of supplies. 

I tend mostly to use liquid watercolors because I find them easier to control and manage (and I just...like working out of little bottles of liquid with eyedroppers. It’s my ink bias), but they have significant drawbacks. Archival speaking? light will bleed all the color out of what I have created eventually! They aren’t built to last. That doesn’t worry me much because I tend to stack all my drawings up and shove them in a drawer when I’m done, but it’s something to keep in mind. I find them easy to mix and manage in the pallet, and easy to reactivate if they dry out 

The brands I use are Dr. PH Martin’s Concentrated/Radiant Watercolor, and Ecoline Watercolor. Between the two, I would recommend Ecoline because they are cheaper, have more consistent texture, and have more in the bottle. Honestly, if the art store near me wasn’t on a huge sale, I never woulda gotten the PH Martins, they’re expensive as hell and just incredibly teeny glass bottles.

BUT, if you want to use watercolor that comes in tubes (which will last longer, give you more options for artistic expression—because the texture ranges from paste to watery, you have all that range to experiment with—and which most watercolor artists prefer in general) there’s a lot more options. The highest quality for the cheapest price I’ve found are the Turner’s watercolor tubes? I don’t always love the texture when I’m wetting the paint because I am picky, but the color is incredibly vibrant, and the prices are incredibly affordable compared to like, schminke or cotman haha. I used these in school and had a great time with them.

Brushes I know a lot less about, like almost nothing honestly, I wish I could give you some concrete advice on brushes but what it really comes down to for me is like, if you like the way it feels in your hand, if you like the way it makes a mark, it’s good. all it exists to do is facilitate You making a mark on the paper with some artistic medium, as long as you are satisfied with it, that’s good. 

If you want brush recommendations though, I’ve been told that Princeton’s watercolor brushes (i have a couple from the Heritage and Velvetouch series) are good synthetic brushes for...moderate prices. Brushes are expensive. Usually people recommend you have a #2 and #4 Round, and a smaller detail brush, but again, really, like all things art it all comes down to your preferences, and your needs. 

Actual Painting Tips:

Take care of yourself! Treat yourself kindly, forgive yourself for making mistakes. I’m dead serious. It’s impossible to avoid making mistakes, and in watercolor the mistakes are really hard to fix, and usually impossible without the use of gouache or something else opaque, so at some point it’s going to become an exercise in forgiving yourself for making those mistakes, like drawing in pen with no under-sketch.  On a good day, I find this therapeutic. On a bad day, it’s maddening. It’s okay not to make art on a bad day. When it comes to something you do because you enjoy it, and want to continue enjoying it, it’s important not to force yourself to do anything you don’t want to, and to take breaks when you feel yourself getting frustrated.

Paint from Lightest color value to Darkest. If you’re going to paint a character with a bit of a rim-light from some golden sunlight, paint that light light yellow first, top to bottom, and then work your way to the darker colors.

If you’re painting on a tilted surface (I’m guilty of keeping my sketchpad or paper block on my knees) paint from top to bottom. The weight of the water will pull the paint down, so you want to work with gravity, not against it! 

Limit yourself. Let yourself only work with one color for a day or so, then only two colors, then only three. When you put yourself in a corner where you don’t have a lot of options, you’ll often find you surprise yourself with what you come up with. Usually, I pick three colors, put them down on my pallet, and leave them there for a week or so, mostly just painting from those colors. It helps me develop a familiarity with how those colors work together, and how they work when I mix them. 

Mixing Colors:

another thing I should say about the Dr.PH Martin’s watercolors is that they don’t always mix well. I tried to get a skin tone for Kakashi once out of pink, green, and a little bit of brown, and in the mixture you could see all of the colors that went into it, and it gave a very strange look. I liked it as a color, but it definitely looked weird.

The paint that you use will have properties specific to itself, and you will get more familiar with those properties as you work it. It may mix smoothly on the pallet, it may not, and both of those can be good if you’re willing to work with them. 

Because of watercolor’s properties, there’s three main ways to mix it:

One: Mixing in the palette. What it says on the tin—you mix the paint, you put it on the paper. I do this one the most, it just takes a lot of familiarity with your paints to get used to the balances that create the colors you want, just lots and lots of playing around.

Two: Mixing dry. This isn’t really “mixing” per se, but it does the same job, Watercolor is a transparent medium, and one that reactivates when wet, so if you put one color over another, it’s about the same as mixing.

Three: Semi-wet mixing. The combination of the two! You can get some weird effects out of this. I use it sparingly, but I love to use it when I do.

The most useful physical tool for me (just me personally) in mixing is a pallet i have, and while it’s fairly cheap and should last like, idk forever, there are other ways to get a similar effect without it, as long as you give yourself space to mix.

it looks like this, it’s a porcelain pallet (so the cleanup is incredibly easy, unlike my plastic one, which unfortunately wants to hold my color a little) and i use it almost daily. The circular wells are for where you put the bulk of the color you will be using, and the rectangular wells are for mixing either with water, to get more translucent colors, or with other colors. The limited wells but excess of mixing space puts pressure on me not to use too many colors, but to mix them constantly. (but also has enough divided space that I don’t feel anxious about everything getting muddied. i am very particular.)

It’s heavy though, and while its therefore good for sitting on my desk and not getting knocked off by my cat or me, it’s not easily portable, especially as it’s uncovered if that's something that is important to you. Blick’s probably has them, as does...I imagine any other art retailer? They’re fairly popular. Usually around 6-8$ but again, none of these tools are necessary, they are just what suit me personally. I hope this helps! If I have the energy for it, at some point I’ll post some basic watercolor exercises to help with control and technical skill. You can get very good with any medium just by raw continuous practice, but my teacher last year had us do a lot of exercises that not only gave me a much greater comfort and confidence with watercolor, but that were also just...incredibly meditative to do.

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns​ 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972​  @ultraluckycatnd​  @donteattheappleshook​) and Art by @kmomof4​

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Chapter 4 - For with you, earth is heaven too

"Thank the bloody stars, Liam is it really you?" 

"Killian," Liam breathed a large sigh of relief. "Yes, are you - what the bloody hell happened to you? Your hand!" 

"But a flesh wound, more importantly can you free me from this wretched tower? This mad Witch trapped me here and I need to - " He caught sight of Emma, who froze, pressing herself against the wall. "It's you."

Emma swallowed hard, Killian pulling away from his brother to stare at her with those unearthly eyes. The feeling of being dropped from a great height overcame her, knees almost buckling at the sensation of floating that eased into a strange thrum in her bones. It was an immediate revelation, her lips parting as his clawed hands balled into fists.

It was him. His name was Killian. Her heartbeat was louder in her ears, and she could somehow feel his shock as if a ripple moved in a small pond. 

"How did you -" Killian tried to ask, but Liam pushed him back, standing between Emma and Killian as Emma backed away further. 

"Is this Witch involved in the plot on your life, little brother?" Liam growled. "If she is, say the word. I had her locked away, and I'm itching to do it again, if not just to prove to my ex that I was right. She refused to listen to me about my suspicions on her delinquent friend, and now she's being frigid. She broke off things, but - "

"You and Elsa were dating?" Emma yelled, snapping out of her trance. "For fucks sake, do you know how much you probably hurt her with your bullshit? How dare you call her frigid!"

"You won't guilt me for this, Witch. I know you had something to do with this."

"Brother," Killian said, his voice trembling. Emma was suddenly full of dread, wishing to simply go home, never to think about the two ever again. "She isn't the, er, the one who -"

"Say no more. I'll have her arrested, and this time you better not even imagine getting out of that cell you -" 

"No," Killian interrupted, laying his hand on Liam's shoulder. His whisper became louder, hesitation falling away from his voice. "No. No, Emma didn't do anything." 

"It seems very clear that she did do something," Liam grunted, pointing at her. Killian looked annoyed, trying to interject through Liam's blustering. 

"She's pregnant, yes, but -" 

"And this child - It's yours?" Liam interrupted, his irritation rising. 

"Liam, could you bloody well shut up for one moment - Look, it's easier to just - let me show you. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me Gothel the day she removed my hand." 

Emma was immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Killian and Gothel making out as they stumbled through the same walls that she was surrounded by. Her cheeks flamed as Liam sputtered, and to her surprise the Demon's ears pinked with embarrassment. 

"Sorry, sorry," he hissed out over the sound of their groaning. "Mirror, after this, please."

The mirror showed a naked Eloise from behind seated on Killian's waist as she rocked, loud moaning echoing, causing everyone in the tower to utter a different expletive. 

"No, you bloody piece of glass, after. After all of that!" Killian gritted out with his face stained red, the mirror phasing into a dim view of Killian's sprawled form on the bed. 

Eloise approached, magic rolling off of her in thick mauve smoke, a dagger raised in her hand. The cut was inhumanly fast, Killian waking groggily with surprise to look at his missing hand with confusion, the dark blood dripping from the stump making Emma feel dizzy with returning nausea.

Eloise held the hand in triumph, using a finger to draw a symbol on her belly as light began to emanate just below her navel. Killian was standing now, sheets clutched to him, looking at her with rage as he held his wrist and yelled, but the noise was growing around him as if a tornado bore down with its wind. He was quickly drowned out while wind began to swirl around Gothel, her hair whipping around her face. 

Ripping a bedsheet that lay over a cauldron aside, she tossed in Killian's hand with a giggle. An explosion of blinding light burst forth, and she was gone, leaving a bewildered, bloodied Killian alone in the dark. 

Liam cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Well, what does any of that mean in regards to -" 

In the darkness, the mirror suddenly lit, shining a gentle glow over the room. Killian walked towards it dazed, squinting at what displayed on the glass. 

Emma could hear her cries of pain, and knew at once what he was seeing. She stepped forwards, watching both brothers with clear wariness. 

"Show them what you showed me," Killian commanded. 

Emma appeared on the glass, her body contorted and stomach swelling, agony written on her face as David attempted to break down her door. 

"I'm so sorry, lass. I don't know how, or why -" Killian began, before Liam interjected. 

"Don't apologize to her. She's the one who did this to you; she made a deal with that woman, and now look." He gestured, and Emma looked down at her feet in shame. "This is just another reason to hate Witches, another proof of their disregard -" 

"Enough!" Killian growled, his eyes flashing. "I know what she did."

"Why didn't you leave? You just watched me go through this, knowing -" Emma asked quietly, her voice breaking. 

"I wanted to leave. Do you think I enjoy this luxury resort? I can't, she transferred some curse on to me." 

"Don't entertain her, little brother. This is proof, and all I need. I hope you enjoy your second trip to prison, Ms. Swan," Liam smirked. 

Killian blocked him from his approach as Emma scrambled backward. 

"I'm not pressing charges on her. Drop it, Liam. Haven't you harassed her enough?" Killian whispered. 

"Can we, um, have a moment alone?" Emma mumbled, her sideways glance catching how Liam bristled, his wing feathers puffed in agitation. "I need -" 

"That's a grand idea, actually." Killian cocked his head slightly, glaring at Liam. "Give us a moment or two, I promise that I can handle myself without you here for a moment."

Liam crossed his arms, his glare meeting Killian's so forcefully Emma would swear there was an electrical current in the air. Finally, he nodded. 

"I'll be literally perched outside, so don't get any ideas about escaping Ms. Swan." Emma nodded, looking away when Liam's gaze tore from Killian to land on her. "And don't forget: I know what your power is. Using it here just gives me more incentive to find you." 

Emma's eyes widened in shock as her head snapped up, just in time to see Liam smirk as he flapped once, disappearing out the window. 

Awkward silence fell between Killian and Emma, left alone as papers stirred in the gust. 

"Are you really not going to press charges?" Emma asked, after a long moment. Killian surveyed her carefully, her nervous fidgeting as she bit her lip and refusal to meet his eyes easing his own nerves. 

"I won't be, lass. Aye. You have my word on it." She looked up, relief flooding her face. When their eyes met, Emma felt a jolt of warmth travel up her spine, her body relaxing of its own accord. 

"And I can trust your word?" she asked, suspiciously. Killian's eyebrow raised, his lips turning upward into a mockery of a smile. "I didn't mean -" 

"Oh, no Swan." He took a breath, laughing darkly while his only hand carded through his hair. "I can guess your exact meaning." 

Pointing a finger to his horns, Emma scoffed. She pointed a finger outside at where Liam was most likely lurking. 

"I meant that your brother is trying to put me back in jail," She pointed her finger at him, jabbing it as his tail flicked in agitation, "Because you didn't have the decency to find a way to contact me," she hissed, stepping forward further. 

He growled low, his eyes narrowing. "And how was I supposed to bloody well manage that when I have been literally trapped here, eh Swan? I wrote on your mirror, should I have let down my long hair or charmed some carrier pigeons?" 

Liam poked his head back in, looking between them. "I told you she is a stubborn -" 

"For fuck's sake!" Emma threw up her hands in the air. 

"Shut up Liam, and bugger off!" 

Liam sulkily returned outside with a disgruntled noise. 

"So what," Emma asked, hands finding her hips. "You were just going to wait up here as I felt this bond thing, and hope for the best? Did you just not feel them, or is this some sort of Demon courtship I don't know about?" 

"Of course I felt the bindings, I've been watching everything, every day. It's been torture." Killian's voice rose, and he was suddenly stalking toward her as Emma backed up, her hands immediately resting against her stomach defensively. Stopping in his tracks, Killian froze, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath and exhaled it. "This choice didn't belong to me, or to you. Eloise worked the system, broke laws with her magic to make this happen… If you had just studied the ritual more or realized how wrong it all was, we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be confined to a bloody tower unless I'm summoned or wearing a brand -" 

"Listen, buddy, you watched me right?" Emma gritted through her teeth. A cloud of shadow began to form around Killian, her magic crackling in pinpricks of light around her fingers. "I didn't know a bundle of Demon baby was coming my way via express mail, so if you could not blame this all on me, that would be great."

"You expect me not to be angry at you? My child was not - I had different expectations of what their life would be like. I, unlike you, wanted a family and children -" 

"I've always wanted a family, even if that didn't necessarily include kids, don't go after me for that."

"You had the choice!" he yelled, the dark around him deepening. "I have had none. I'm just an observer, caged while you -" 

"Choice? I had the choice? Well, gee, good to know I chose this with full consent. I wanted to be hospitalized by your monster baby that tried to explode out of me the first chance it got. I chose to puke up everything I eat, because it's super fun. I still haven't entirely come to terms with the fact that they won't classify this as a rape, unless I press charges - not on Eloise - but on you. I can't think straight, and people think that I did this all on purpose, because yes, I wanted to go back to jail - " 

"Alright, lass, alright," Killian put his hand out in supplication, Emma realizing that her own hands were shaking and breath was coming into her lungs in ragged rasps. She took a few breaths before collapsing onto a low stool, his face immediately falling to a look of regretful concern. She heard him mutter, her eyes closing as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. When she opened them, Killian stood with an offered glass of water. 

"Thank you." Emma mumbled quietly, taking it from him and swallowing it greedily. He nodded, opening his mouth to say something a few times, then thinking better of it. Finally, he scratched at just behind his ear, clearing his throat. 

"I'm sorry for all of that, it wasn't - it's not what I meant. We both wanted this to go differently. I didn't mean - I apologize." Taking another breath, he stepped closer, kneeling to be on the same eye level as Emma. She watched him warily, but to his surprise did not flinch away from his approach. "I can't imagine what you are going through. I haven't had a chance to really talk about everything or process that this is real, that someone would do this to me. To us." 

"Thank you. It's not exactly been… I'm not… I've been really alone." Emma admitted. Now that they were closer to each other than before, a strange sense of calm seemed to flow over both of them as if a cooling rain had started. "This isn't exactly a common thing, so there's no one to talk to. I know it's my fault, and I know that I… Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry, if it matters." She nodded, and he grimaced. "For my part in whatever this is, and whatever she did to us to bind us, I'm sorry. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"If you want… I could brand you. I'll free you, and replace her brand with my own."

"No. No, I think not." He laughed lightly, smiling wryly. Suddenly standing, he pulled away and began to pace the floor in quick strides, not looking at her any longer. Emma felt the loss of his stare acutely, shivering. "I'd rather boil my tongue in piss than be another Witch's play thing, and follow your commands like some puppet. You called my child a monster just a moment ago, which means that to you, that's what I am. Absolutely out of the bloody question." Killian tried to rein in his anger, but she kept looking at him as if she cared after making remarks like that. He had tried to calm her, tried to offer an olive branch, and this was her reaction? 

Emma could feel the sting of the lobbed insult, wincing at his outright derision and dismissal. "You're right. You aren't a monster, and I - I'm sorry. The real monster here is Gothel, or anyone who would do all of this. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do any of this to you. You may not like me and we both hate Eloise, but this child doesn't need to suffer for that. I… I want her to have a good life. No. Her best life, everything I couldn't - didn't have. I love her already despite everything, and I want her to be okay."

He calmed, stopping his rapid pacing. "No commands? No chopping off bits of me? And I get to see her… my child?" His blue eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. "What's the catch, why would you do that for a Demon?"

"Because. I've spoken to your brother and Milah's ghost. They have nothing but trust in you, even if they admit that you have stumbled."

Killian felt his heart stutter. He had put her to rest so long ago, his anger completely doused in one fell swoop. "Milah? Is she -"

"Worried about you, but for the most part at peace. She's in the vast gardens of the afterlife." Emma watched the Demon physically relax, the panic she had felt from him ebbing away to a deep melancholic ache. To her surprise and utter bewilderment, the urge to hug him popped into her head, which she shook off with confusion. 

"Why did you contact her? Liam said that you were trying to raise this child by yourself. Why bind yourself to a child and an unknown father for a deranged woman in the first place?" Killian asked, not bothering to veil his suspicion. 

"I didn't… I should have realized that Eloise was hiding something." Emma nervously fidgeted again, and Killian watched as her eyes found a spot on the floor to stare sadly at. Her half smile was easy enough to read, as he was discovering were many of her tells.

 He watched her fingers trace the swell that lay beneath her t-shirt in small circles, listening intently while curiosity bested his better instincts. 

"I have a soft spot for people trapped in their situations because I've been there. She used that against me, made me believe that I was some savior. As for a baby, I thought that this would be years away and never like this. I knew that I would never have a family of my own besides my brother, and as an orphan I thought that any parents willing to give up their child like I was given up… I just decided that I would at least be able to give an unwanted child the family I didn't have. I figured that if the binding worked, great. If it didn't, fine."

"And the fact that it's part Demon?" he challenged, watching her face and body language with interest. "A monster as you called it? That didn't factor in at all? Did you decide to find me when you realized it wasn't some perfect mortal?" 

"I should not have said that. I'm actually… she's definitely not a monster." She traced the curve of her belly absentmindedly, sighing softly. All of their anger melted away as a deep exhaustion settled in its place. "It doesn't bother me for that reason. It's been hard because of my body, I don't know if you saw what this is doing to me -" 

"There are times where I felt your privacy was more important than my desperation," Killian stated, blushing slightly. Emma gave him a small smile, surprised to see the tips of his ears go pink. 

"I… I do need help, but not because I'm scared of her or resent having a partially Demon child. I'm scared because of the changes in my body, how crazy I feel, and how alone I am in this. I want her to have the best life they can, and that means guidance from someone who understands better than I do." Something shifted between them, Killian hearing the endearing honesty in her tone. "And you, you've acted a lot more humanely than many of the mortals I've met even in the brief moments I have spent around you. It's obvious that you would love your child - this child, and I do - I mean, I care about her, and I want her to have two parents - "

Killian blinked, sure he had misheard, his breath catching in his throat. "Two parents? As in - "

"You and I, yes. I can't do this alone, and your brother is already trying to draw up paperwork for me to give her up for adoption. He put me in jail, and I don't think he really believes that I didn't… Look, if you want out, I understand, but I am keeping her - I think it's a her. I can't do adoption, especially when it's orchestrated by Liam."

They both glanced at the window, Liam still out of purview. "Ah. Yes. My brother is…"

"He's a fucking asshat. The king of the dickheads." Emma smiled, Killian letting out a bellow of genuine laughter. 

"That sums it up. And then Demonic infancy... The pregnancy alone without support - I suppose this could work," Killian mused. He grinned, her smile widening. Warmth poured through the bond, and he watched her form ease into comfort, body loosening fractionally. "You have been more of a mum than Eloise by far, I guess that's fair. "

"I want nothing but the best for my child. This world is not going to be kind. It's going to try and shortchange every aspect of her existence. At least having two parents that love her -" 

"You believe a Demon is capable of love, darling? How progressive." The edge of his tone was back, both of them snapping on their armor with well tuned practice. 

Her eyes shot up to search his, in a challenge. "I don't believe. I know it's true, don't act like I'm an idiot." 

"Just who are you, Swan?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Perhaps I would." Killian said quietly. After a moment, he took in a breath and licked his lips. "Very well. I'll wear your brand, Swan. I'll find a place to stay closer to your abode and -" 

"Stay at my place. I'll make you a set of doors, and it should lessen the need for a full power brand. I think using that much magic might be tricky for me right now anyway, I get tired quickly." He nodded, sympathy leaking into her mind. It felt weird, their feelings intermingling, but not wrong. She could somehow taste it, and knew it was a grayish blue. "You can add a door to somewhere else eventually, but for now I'll put one here to lessen the blood magic that traps you. It'll go to my spare room. You can use whatever suits you best once you find a place. I won't mind, and it's safer for you than the city." 

"You'd trust me alone there, on the farm? And alone in your home?" 

"Snow will say you are a strange omen, but not in the way that makes the flowers shrivel or some other cryptic statement that is Druid for, ‘you're alright’. And then there's what your brother's pamphlets said… I would just feel better if you were nearby, if you don't mind." He nodded, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Tension fell from her shoulders as she stepped forward, reaching out to touch him but stopping short when he flinched back. "Where do you want my brand? It's a bit large." 

Muscles rippled under his skin, and she could see where old lines of Witch brands had burned there. 

He had been a slave many times, and many of the brands were old, none quite as faded as the largest one on his shoulder. Almost completely gone, it was ornate and delicate from what was left visible; the shape of a heart and a name. Milah. Emma swallowed hard.

Gothel's wasn't there, she noted. 

The Demon's eyes were dark, black as raven feathers but for the blue flame that licked underneath long lashes. A small silver scar rested on one cheek, shimmering slightly with icy light. His body moved as if it was made of smoke, the main parts of his form solid that trailed away as if he was dissolving into stardust. Swirls of celestial light moved under the many brands, constellations spiraling as she watched. A nebula drifted lower, disappearing halfway under the waistband of his leather trousers, and Emma briefly felt heat color her face. 

Whatever lay below was foreign to her, and based on the guidebook given to her, varied vastly from Demon to Demon. As far as she knew, he could have another arm. 

"Like what you see, love?" Killian whispered lowly, and Emma shook off her thoughts on his beauty and possible anatomy. 

Emma rolled her eyes, and placed her hand to rest on the left side of his torso, just below his sternum. The touch made both of them hiss in pleasure, the gold of her brand a bright metallic color against the light blues of his skin.

"Now," Emma smiled, looking up at Killian's attempts to blink away his half lidded gaze. "If we hurry, I can add these doors and we can leave before your brother makes it back. If you're so inclined that is."

"Why Swan," Killian practically purred, "I must say that is the best idea you've had all evening."

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The first door from the house to the tower took what felt like ages to make, and its toll on Emma's magic was as if she'd been run over by a herd of unicorns. She wobbled through it into her kitchen, immediately opening a can of Red Minos. The magic restoring liquid felt smooth against her tongue, its race to replenish her magic buzzing under her skin. 

The buzzing was met with a strange undercurrent of annoyance with sudden force, and she turned to see Killian glowering at her. 

"You really shouldn't drink that in your condition. All of those magical replenishing energy drinks are terrible for you." He eyed her worriedly, and Emma sighed.

"I don't normally drink them, but I need to make extra space -" 

"It can wait for a day. I can wait for a day. I'll sleep on the floor somewhere or in the tower." He shrugged and took a step forward, standing next to her to watch her fidget nervously with the can. "It's not worth your health, or the little one. Especially given that I've only seen you eat a pop tart and a candy bar for meals today."

Emma felt her fist clench around the can, the aluminum crackling as it crushed. 

"So, the ghost I felt, that was you keeping tabs on me?" 

Killian blushed, the pink of his cheeks startling on his pale blue skin. "When you say it like that Swan, it sounds worse than it is - I was merely trying to get in contact with you and see who was carrying -" 

"Fine then. I'll just fix you up a spot in the nursery," Emma mumbled, interrupting him before she could get more annoyed. "And I'll just throw this away." With a flick of her wrist, the can dropped neatly into the bin. 

The foreign feeling of concern faded, replaced by guilt at potentially hurting the baby with her bad habits. She knew the basics of no sushi, no drinking - if those even applied. What else didn't she know? 

"Where do you keep your linens then?" Killian’s voice steadied her, and Emma pointed him toward a closet. 

"There isn't much. I'm sorry, but you can sleep in the nursery's glider, I have a few blankets somewhere…" 

"I'll be alright, Swan," he assured her, chuckling lightly. "I tend to stay rather warm." 

Emma rolled her eyes, carrying a pillow into the nursery to drop by the glider. She gestured at the murals on the wall. "This is the nursery -" 

"I know. I've watched every day," he admitted sheepishly, his ears reddening at the tips. "I know your entire schedule."

Emma blinked, then blinked again. "Oh." The surprise in her tone didn't seem to bother the Demon, who chuckled softly. "I'm sorry. This is just so weird."

Killian laughed, but the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes. A stale silence filled the room. Not one to sit on idle hands, they began to work in tandem to set up his sleeping arrangements. Finally he spoke again. 

"I'm sorry for not being here. I'm sorry for everything, truly, especially this all happening. I didn't know, I swear it-" 

Emma swallowed hard. Guilt poured through the bond, swirling itself around to the point of being indeterminable if it was hers or his. 

"It's OK, you couldn't have known," Emma soothed. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm not. I mean, it would have been nice, but… I'm a big girl. I can handle myself, and I always have." 

"I wanted to be here so badly. You shouldn't have been alone in this." 

“Hey - You're here now.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

A comfortable silence fell in place as she watched him make his makeshift bed on the glider. It was hard not to stare at him, her eyes kept catching the way his horns caught the light even in the dim; an almost mother of pearl iridescence making them shimmer. 

"Oh, your hand -" Emma realized suddenly, only to have him laugh and shrug it off. 

"It'll grow back. Just needs some time and a good potion or two."

Emma nodded, His skin was also strange and ethereally beautiful: it seemed to be a sky blue, but when she moved closer, it became clear that it was as if glittering stardust, galaxies, and things that she could not begin to describe shifted to turn or crash together. His tail was another oddity that left her lips quirking upward. It swept around him in gentle swoops, and she'd noticed it flicking with agitation when they fought earlier. 

Everything about him charmed her in the most peculiar ways. 

(It's the bond. You are bound to each other, and your child. Don't be an idiot.) 

"I can put on the skin suit - er… the glamor if you want." Killian mumbled so quietly she almost missed it, his back turned to her. His tail moved slower still, reminding her of a nervous cat. He was wary of her. 

(Adorable, how unbearably sweet that he was nervous -) 

"Only if you want." Emma shrugged. She saw his shoulders lose their tension, and heard his light chuckle before he turned to face her. 

Emma blinked. She had gotten closer to him, not noticing her drift towards him. Blushing, she watched his face settle into a sly smirk of knowing in the warm quiet. 

(This house has always been quiet, but never like this. This feels -) 

"So, you… Er, work? I guess I don't know what a 'Prince of Hell' does. Are you kissing babies and cutting ribbons all day?" Emma asked, shaking away the bizarre thoughts that seemed intent to turn her to mush. She needed her walls more than ever. 

"I'm actually quite a big deal in the Below. I'm a large feature in the Below's gossip rags and newspapers, if you'll believe it." Killian swallowed, licking his lips. "I'm sure that this will be quite the scandal I'll have to figure out. I might have to hire a publicist…" He ran a hand through his hair, gently scratching behind his ear in thought. 

"I - is the Below - is it like, democracy or monarchy or...?" 

"Ah. Yes. Of course no one up here really takes the time to learn, but I digress. I'm a Pre-fall Celestial, and I chose a side which ended in my fallen status. We designed, built, and made the laws regarding the Below, and thusly were rewarded Kingdoms or provinces in it. There were twenty or so of us, but it has dwindled down over the years from infighting, outfighting, war, and all the other things in between the two." His chest puffed with pride, the bond prickling with touches of it. 

(Get your walls back up! He's weird Hellion royalty and you're some hussy he found who was magically knocked up! This is not Cinderella - this fairytale is too weird even for the Grimm's.)

"Oh," Emma said flatly, turning and striding into the kitchen. 

Killian followed behind, with a hum of disappointment. "Oh? That's really all you have to say about -" 

She pulled a large gallon of jasmine tea out of the fridge, pouring herself a glass. "That gives me no idea or insight into what you do." 

"I'm - I write, edit, and serve as witness and or notary for all contracts that fall in my province." 

"Meaning…?" Emma gestured with her hand for a breakdown, drinking her tea. 

Killian moved closer, plucking the now empty glass from her hands to wash it in the sink. "Imagine I'm the Captain of several fleets of ships that make up a bigger navy. I make sure everyone that touches my name and status is good." 

"Hell has a navy? 

"The Below has -" He paused, and his eyes narrowed as a smirk spread across his face. "Now you're just being right cheeky to vex me. I can feel it. "

She blushed, biting her lip, their distance shrinking as they both seemed to sway into each other. He turned off the sink, the kitchen suddenly much smaller than he remembered. As if in a dream, Emma's hand found his to steady herself, the touch of her fingers soft. His senses were immediately invaded by her while everything else fell away. Catching her eye, he could see the dreamy sort of contentment that relaxed her features, the calm not brief enough to mistake for anything else. 

It disappeared just as quickly, her brows pinching and lips pressed together in a grim line. She flinched away as if burnt, immediately cradling her stomach with her palms. 

"I'll make a downstairs guest bedroom tomorrow, then. It will need, well, everything. I wasn't expecting many guests, and I can't make anything too fancy. A bed and an ensuite are as much as I can muster currently. Ask before you need anything though, I might be able to squeeze a feature in. I'll help you out to the best of my ability." 

"Aye, Swan."

"I eat dinner with my brother every Tuesday and Thursday night. Otherwise I don't really cook -" 

"I know, you eat those awful sugar encrusted tarts instead. You need vegetables and -"

"So feel free to cook for yourself."

"You have an appointment coming up too, and I was hoping to broach the subject of coming along with you. I just, I have a lot of questions; I am both not ready but also entirely ready for -" 

"Well, it's still going to be a while. A year of this, at least, and I'm already scared. I don't know anything about babies, but even less about Demons. At least your brother will chill out slightly now that you have been located."

"Ah, yes. That reminds me. Do you want to continue working? If you do, I don't mind, but you could work less. I am happy to provide a stipend -" 

"A stipend? You can't bribe me -" 

"I'm not trying to -" He stopped himself, taking a slow breath in exasperation while rubbing his hand across his face. When he looked at her again, she saw a patient frustration resting on his brow. "You know, Swan, some people just have good intentions at heart. Take a leap of faith here, and let me repay you for being absent the first four months of our child's life."

"I guess we should talk about our expectations, and intentions, or something then, because I don't want you thinking I'm some damsel in distress." Storming away from him toward the living room, Emma plopped down carefully on the couch. Killian appeared a seconds later, leaning against the wall to appraise her. "I'm not. I don't need help, I don't need you or anyone -"

"You may not need someone, but that doesn't mean you don't want someone there," Killian began striding toward her stopping a short distance away. "I get it, you're perfectly capable, strong, brilliant really - but I'm here to stay, love. I don't want you to have to do this alone, and I know you don't want to either."

"How do you know what I want?" she snapped, unable to get comfortable on the couch. She huffed in annoyance, trying to position a pillow behind her back. 

Killian sat beside her, and she glared at him openly. Reaching towards her, she flinched as his hands gently moved the pillow upwards and to the side. 

"You're an open book, love," he murmured, scooting to sit on the other side of the couch, letting her stretch her feet. 

The anger dissipated again, the bond gently thrumming in contentment at his presence. Emma realized she felt exhausted, the onset of the draining interactions and introductions catching up to her. 

"It might not be so bad, to just have you around. Only just a little bit, to help me do baby stuff, and nothing else at all."

Her eyes closed despite the Demon staring at her, and she blinked them open trying to stay awake. 

"Who knows, love," he whispered, voice a low rumbling as her eyes shut again. "You and I could become friends in this mess." 

Emma yawned, curling into the couch, feeling his presence nearby as if they were connected by a length of cord. 

"Not your love," she managed to grumble, his chuckle the last thing she heard before falling asleep. 

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

When Emma woke, she was surprised to find she felt well rested, something that hadn't happened in what felt like years. Light music was playing on a radio, and the smell of something delicious was wafting from her kitchen. She blinked the bleariness away, standing with a stretch and a groan. 

"Good morning, Swan," Killian called from the kitchen. Looking around, she realized that he'd cleaned too, her floors gleaming in the pale morning sun. "I made you an omelet, if you'd like one."

"Oh, we haven't been feeling eggs much lately," Emma looked down at her stomach, surprised that the smell wasn't making her retch. "But… Maybe this morning she's decided to give them a chance."

"Probably desperate for something other than sugar and grease," Killian teased, his tail flicking as his head fell back to look at her. He grinned, and she tried to hide her own. 

This was weird. All of it. The familiarity of him, cooking in her kitchen wearing pajamas he'd somehow acquired while she had slept, humming along to the radio's music. Her friends didn't even know he was here, and he had already broken (crashed) through her walls without any of the resistance they had met. Emma bit her lip, rolling it between her teeth. 

A plate slid in front of her, breaking her from her thoughts. A beautiful yellow omelet with flecks of tomato, ham, spinach, and onion rested in front of her. Mouth watering, Emma took a small bite, letting the cheese melt on her tongue. 

She let out an indecent noise, digging into it as Killian sat beside her, amused. 

"I'd never have guessed you haven't eaten before, Swan."

"Shut up," Emma managed, swallowing another bite. "This is so good, I don't know how you did this but it just - it's so good."

"I went downtown after I was sure you were asleep. If I'm going to be staying here, I needed some clothes and the contents of my fridge." He shrugged, taking a bite and chewing slowly. "I didn't go Below, it would be too much hassle right now, and I was worried about you waking up alone."

"Oh." Emma felt surprise tug at her heart, her brows furrowing. "Why would you be worried about me being alone? I'm alone a lot." 

"Because, now you're not. It'd be bad form to take your kindness and make it look spurned." Killian blushed, and Emma stared, scrutinizing him. 

"Well, you don't have to worry, I told you before that I'm fine." 

"Aye, Swan. This was more courtesy than compulsory."

"Good."

They ate in silence, Emma finishing before him. She placed the dish in the sink, then turned to the wall of the kitchen. Focusing her magic, she made the outline of a door appear, pulling it into reality carefully and folding the plane of existence around it. Connecting the door's functioning portal to Killian’s place was the trickier part; without him there, she had to search manually for traces of him. 

Sure enough, she found his apartment in the penthouse of a downtown tower, its all glass windows and dark, minimalist, slate doors sleek compared to her white paneled addition. 

The door clicked into existence, and she fell to her knees, panting. 

"Emma, by Fenrir's blade, are you alright? What did you -" 

"Made," she panted, pointing to the door. "You, door."

"This could have waited, you scared me! The bond fell from reception for a moment and I thought -" Killian looked panic stricken. Emma rolled her eyes. 

"I'm fine. Just used more magic than I thought. It fluctuates; the baby wants more some days. Usually the days when I need it, but," Emma wiped a hand across her face, finding it sweaty as she slicked back her hair. "I make do."

"I'll get you something to -" 

"I'm fine, Killian. I promise."

He nodded and straightened, but watched her warily as she stood. Emma brushed off his worry easily, his concern as far as she was concerned, was nothing more than worry for his offspring - more bond induced nonsense that they would have to muddle through. Killian disarmed her through it, if her guard even let down the slightest bit, the link between them made her too honest, too trusting. 

(Too vulnerable?)

(No. Never again.)

(Careful, always careful; better safe than sorry.)

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Working out all the small kinks took a few days, including the call to her friends that she had found the Demon, and they needed privacy to figure things out before the coven could descend upon them. Mary Margaret, Anna, and Regina took it the hardest (the lattermost to Emma's surprise), but that was fixed with promises to visit individually when possible. Elsa had smoothed it over, truly, by offering (with a new frosty demeanor) to play bad cop to Emma's good. 

Making it clear that Emma needed space and making a case that even rattled Regina, Elsa had convinced everyone to ease up - even while she was miserable. Liam had tried to use his discovery about Killian to apologize, discovering very quickly how 'frigid' she could actually be. 

Killian for the most part seemed grateful just to be there, and out of the tower. His room was set up and Emma had attached it neatly to the tower (the door currently in his closet), and his other residences. It took time, but the house and her magic got along in a great way, the door's stability not at all in question. Killian had teased her after they toured his homes that it was a lot to baby proof - Emma was simply thankful that the two properties he favored were not out of state. The further the distance, the more taxing it got - it was among the few reasons she had that as much as she wished she could make a door to the Below for him, she couldn't. 

"It's alright, Swan. I don't mind going back and forth to get what I need from the Below. It truly doesn't bother me to commute." Dropping another box into his downtown penthouse as she looked on, he shrugged, leaning back to rest on the bar with his elbows. "I can turn in some work, touch base with my team, do the things I can't do up here that need to be done. Plus, it's not as if you would have if you could have - it's illegal to have unauthorized portals to and from the Below. It's in the DRIVES act."

"Oh," Emma blinked. "I keep seeing that, but I don't know much about it honestly. I have to sign the baby up under it at some point -"

"Not any longer. Liam said that when he suspected you initially, but now he's rescinded the request." Killian’s jaw clenched, his claw like nails ripping open the top of the box in a slash. 

Emma shook her head, looking at Killian with sheer confusion. "Why would he do that? I thought it protected -" 

"I asked him to," Killian stated, an edge to his tone. His eyes flicked to look at her, the sideways glance almost a challenge of some sort. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to understand what was going on. 

"Okay, I guess I don't get it." Shifting to step towards him, Emma frowned when she saw hurt flicker across his face. "Are you upset with me? Why would you ask Liam to do that? Is there something I should know?" 

"There's a lot you should know, love, I just - just don't fret about it. It's fine." Killian smiled, but the lie seeped from his words into his expression. "Just know that if you ask a Demon or anyone close to them, the DRIVES act is not popular. It's a hit list in the right hands, and the attributes asked in that questionnaire are very unnecessary."

"I don't -" 

"Emma, I don't want to explain all of this right now, but I promise I will. I just - I just can't until I am sure you will understand. My brother isn't great about it, but he's better than many." 

"I guess I'll leave you to this then?" Emma grumbled slightly, unaware of whatever she had done. He caught her wrist as she turned to leave, his hand warm over her skin. 

"It's fine. Please stay, we can change the subject." Killian nodded, and he encouraged her to sit at the large bar. He had impeccable taste, if a bit too modern for Emma's liking. Dark colors and steel fixtures looked untouched, gleaming in the light of a sleek fireplace built into an onyx wall. "So you have a doctor's appointment here soon, right?" 

"In two weeks, at the five month mark. I'll be a third of the way along, basically." Emma stroked along where the swell of her belly curved upwards, marveling at how fast time had passed. She was still carrying large, but had completely slowed down in growth to stay the same size. Her body was rounded out almost completely and as much as it could be, her breasts heavier and her center of gravity at risk of creating an orbit. 

Killian hummed in response, watching her intently. "Do you feel…?" 

"Her move?" Emma finished his question, and he nodded. "I'm starting to. She's the size of a plum right now, if you can believe it."

Killian nodded again, the silence once more taken over. He cast a longing look at her before returning to unpacking. The bond thrummed, and Emma found herself by his side. 

"Here." Taking his hand even as he startled, she placed it on the lower side of her stomach, pressing softly against where she felt the baby laying. Killian let out a choked noise of surprise, his hand stiff until the tension loosened and his large palm formed to her side. 

The bond exploded with warmth, as if a knit blanket had been wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of cocoa had been placed in her hands. Every muscle unwound, her thoughts hazy and free. It made her feel too comfortable, to which she accounted for the madness of what came next. 

"You could come, if you want," Emma whispered, her body resting against his in a gentle lean. "To the appointment, I mean."

"I'd like that a lot, actually," he murmured back, his other hand lazily hugging her against himself. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, the bond between them alive with its vibration, until Emma pulled away with sudden realization. 

Killian looked dazed when Emma stared at him, but said nothing when she turned on her heels and stomped back into her own house again. Emma's anger felt like it might eat her alive, the door to her special room opening with no resistance. She scooted between the boxes and ducked under the bottoms of clothes, curling into herself. 

(The bond was officially a problem.)

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

For the most part after that, Emma was successful in her attempts to avoid Killian, both of them happy to stay clear of the other without risking the consequences of the tenuous bond. 

Neither of them acknowledged it openly, until a few days before the first trimester check up when Killian confronted her. 

"I don't have to go if you are uncomfortable, but I truly do want to be there for you and our child," he told her seriously, handing her a large bouquet. The flowers smelled amazing, the yellow and white blooms immediately making Emma's heart clench. "I've taken off that day, and I have a chauffeur for you to save you from the commute. I thought we might -" 

"It's fine. I said you could go, and I meant it." Emma shrugged, holding onto every bit of her armor. 

"I meant to ask, and I know what you have said, but…" Killian raked a hand through his hair, tousling it around his horns. "Mixed children tend to take after the non-Demonic parent. Are you sure that you want to keep -" 

"I'm sure," Emma growled, her attention snapping towards him. He lowered his hands in supplication, and Emma realized she was practically ready to spring: her arm had curled around her belly protectively, while the other was outstretched, and the grimace she wore was more bared teeth than anything. 

"I was only confirming. It's - I'm not -" 

"Whatever," Emma snapped, hugging herself tightly. "It's at eight am. Be here by seven." 

"Aye." 

Per his word, he was promptly waiting for her at seven am the morning of the appointment, the sleek black town car's leather seats warm as he helped her inside. 

Emma hadn't seen much of him since their tense conversation, but he cleaned up well in the skin suit - horns, claws, and tail disappearing, and his skin a pale color that made his lips seem to blush. She could tell he was uncomfortable in it, and in an attempt to calm him she took his hand in hers. 

"It grew back nicely," Emma remarked, examining the scars that still appeared, even through the glamor. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. It's prone to stiffness and some cramping, but," He gave her a grin, the unearthly blue of his eyes bright with mischief as they crinkled. "What can one expect from second hand goods." 

Emma could not help the laughter and groan that bubbled up as he gave a dramaticized sigh with a tilt of his head. "That was terrible," she managed, still giggling. 

He only grinned back, giving her hand a squeeze. They sat quietly together until the car stopped, Killian helping her out again and into the lobby of the office. It was a short wait, the doctor looking at Killian with surprise and then distrust as she ran over her checklist. 

"Still feeling movement?" 

"Yes," Emma answered, sitting sideways on the examination table. 

"Eating and drinking well?" 

"Yes," Emma answered, as Killian made a noise. 

"Are there any recipes or guidelines I could follow to cook for her, so she eats -" Killian tried, the doctor wrinkling her nose and not looking at him. 

"You are growing right on schedule, are you having intercourse at all?" the doctor asked, ignoring Killian completely. 

"I - no, I'm not, I -" Emma stammered. 

"Good. Any Demonic Malevolence?" The doctor shot a sideways glance towards Killian, and he frowned. Crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair, he tilted his head to stair at the ceiling. Emma noticed his tail had broken through the glamor as it began flicking rapidly with agitation. 

"Um, I am not sure -" 

"This would be thoughts of hurting others, destruction of items of value, cravings for raw meat, forcing contracts or actions to be done by means of thrall on others or against your own will, feelings that result in heightened fire magics -" 

"Oh, no," Emma shook her head. "Nothing like that at all."

"It's illegal to withhold reports of malevolence, are you aware of that, Miss Swan?" 

"I - Yes," she repeated, slowly. "Yes I am." 

"And you are sure there is nothing you would like to report?" the doctor asked, leering at her. Emma laid a hand over her stomach, looking at Killian. He let his stare at the ceiling drop, catching her eye, his gaze unreadable. 

"I'm sure," Emma nodded. 

The doctor clicked her pen, making a clicking sound with her tongue. "Alright, slide your pants down and lay across the table here. The ultrasound technician will be in shortly." 

The doctor left, leaving Emma and Killian alone. 

"Do you need me to -" Killian began, but Emma was already shimmying down her pants and underwear. 

"Oh, no," Emma said, realizing his attempt at giving her privacy. "I - you're going to want to see this, I think, and at this point, my vagina and you are going to become acquainted in the least desirable of ways that I doubt anyone could sexualize. I'm fine with it. If you are grossed out, let me know. I don't want you fainting - "

"I assure you that I do not intend to faint or do anything untoward," Killian stated firmly. 

"Good," Emma said simply. 

The technician came in moments after, immediately glaring at Killian as she got to work. She squirted freezing gel on the roundness of Emma's belly, making her jump. Killian snapped to attention, looking at the technician with narrowed eyes before moving his chair closer. 

The technician pursed her lips before plastering a sunny smile over her grimace. "Alright, let's see this baby! Fingers crossed for good news!" 

Taking her wand, the Fairy made a few circular motions, a glowing mist sticking to the gel of Emma's stomach. Waving her wand at the machine, the machine whirred to life, focusing in on a blurry image.

"That's her?" Killian asked, reverently, leaning forward to look at the monitor in awe. The small white blob kicked out a tiny leg, flailing in the black and gray of the background. Emma felt his fingers interlace with hers, and found that she was grateful for the grounding gesture. 

"That's our baby, oh I - Killian, she's perfect, she's -" Emma could barely recognize her own voice; the excitement, the weight, the proof that they were a part of this something forever and the giddiness of everything stealing her breath. Tears pricked at her eyes, the emotions too much. Swiping them away, Emma took in a deep breath, and steeled herself again. 

"Good call, a beautiful little princess is nice and snug in Mum." The nurse pointed to the screen at the baby's sex, before giving a sly glance towards Killian. "She looks normal enough; didn't inherit much of her father at all. Bless your luck for that." 

Emma glanced at Killian, tensing at the nurse's rudeness, but he didn't seem to notice. His smile was wide as he squeezed her hand, the grin making his eyes twinkle absolutely infectiously. All Emma could feel was adoration, the warm balm of it through the bond, and the lightness that made her squeeze his hand back in turn.

"She's beautiful," he sighed out, and Emma managed a choked nod, before his eyes caught her own. Worry immediately spread across his features. "You're crying, darling are you -" 

"I'm fine, I just got -" Emma hiccuped, trying to stop the tears rolling down her face. The nurse, to her credit, was cleaning up quickly, wrinkling her nose at them in disdain when Killian cupped her cheek, his thumb gently swiping away tears. "I just got overwhelmed for a moment. Thank you for coming, it means so much more than I thought, and -" 

"Thank you for letting me," Killian replied simply, shrugging ever so slightly. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and Emma shivered at the electricity that seemed to shoot down her spine. 

Emma rebuttoned her pants and pulled her sweater over her stomach, standing carefully while Killian smoothed down the knitted fabric. Swaying into his touch, he let her rest her cheek against his chest, the comfort of the not-quite embrace washing over them. Humming a noise that he reciprocated, her hands splayed across the stretch of his chest, as Killian’s nose rested against the crown of her head while his lips pressed chastely against her forehead. 

(It could be like this forever, it could be everything and a future if you just -) 

The nurse cleared her throat loudly, and Emma jumped away from Killian’s arms, looking startled. 

"Your pictures are ready," she drawled, her eyebrows raised even as her eyes began to narrow. "If you'd like them, that is." 

Emma nodded, swallowing a deep breath to calm her racing heart. 

The pictures were a blurry mess, a few profiles of their baby that were more modern art than much else. One was marked as 'thumbsucking' and Emma tried not to be overcome by the strange swell of emotions that threatened when she traced the tiny hand that met a tiny mouth. Killian’s favorite was of their baby's feet, crossed at the ankles but directly in view of the camera's viewpoint. They were so tiny, so small even with their tiny nubbins of toes. 

Leading her to the car, the chauffeur asked where they were headed. 

"We can go home if you like, Swan," Killian hesitated, taking her hand and swiping his thumb over her knuckles. "But -" 

"It's alright if you have plans today. I understand, I didn't expect you to stay," Emma mumbled, trying not to let her strange disappointment leak through the bond, or show in her downcast eyes. 

Killian laughed slightly, shaking his head. "On the contrary, I was going to ask you to lunch."

Emma looked up sharply, lips parting in surprise. "Oh, I'd - I wouldn't mind that at all -" 

"I thought we could have lunch together, then we could go shopping for her, now that we know for sure, and you could pick out anything you don't have already." Blushing, he raked back his hair with his other hand, scratching behind his ear. "If you're up for it, that is. I know that this is all…" He made a gesture with his hand, and Emma could not help the laughter that bubbled up. 

"I'd love that, but I can't afford -"

"My treat, all around." Killian squeezed her hand again, his eyes meeting hers as she bit her lip. "Please. Let me take care of you, and her. I know it's all -" 

"Fubar?" Emma suggested, his lips quirking into a grin. 

"Sure, though I would argue Snafu, as not everything has been a disaster. Some of this, it's been -" 

Emma cut him off, calling out to the chauffeur. 

"Granny's please, on Crimson boulevard and Lupine Highway." 

The chauffeur nodded, and Killian rolled his eyes. "You have to eat something besides grilled cheese and onion rings, Swan."

"You said vegetables, and that's what onion rings are. Delicious, delicious, vegetables." Emma grinned, leaning herself to rest against him. 

(So much for armor, you let him through your walls like he owns the place. Stop letting the bond win, stop letting yourself forget about your scars!) 

(Shut up, brain, and let me eat my onion rings.)

[sorptomber]

My thoughts on the TMA finale

before we even get into it: this is a negative post. I am not happy. Does this mean you can’t be happy? Of course not! If you got the ending you wanted then im happy for you but figuring this is where I posted all of my magnus stuff, I might as well make one last post about it here. Spoilers, obviously. (also jonny if you see this dont take it personal xx)

My english teacher always tells us that if we’re in an exam and we’ve written a few amazing paragraphs on an essay, if there’s only 10 minutes left in the exam then you’re better off just ending your essay there rather than add on a shitty rushed paragraph because it’ll bring down your mark rather than raise it because you wrote more. This is exactly how I feel with tma, especially season 5. 

I got into magnus around this time last year, it definitely took me a while to fully enjoy it though. After listening to the first 10 episodes, I hopped onto the tma subreddit and basically asked “is every episode statements?” because I wasn’t interested in them in the slightest. I’d heard about the podcast from jonmartin fanart so I expected a lot more character interaction. I fought through the first two seasons, loved the third season, adored the fourth season just for the angst and got a start on season 5 (I was fully caught up by the time 171 came out) I thought to myself “oh hey, one episode per. domain that’s cool, whatever, kinda boring but at least we’re getting to know this apocalyptic world.” What poor little me didn’t know was that the majority of season 5 would just be worldbuilding. over and over and over again. The fact they repeated fears for domains had me more horrified than any of the other statements. I obviously stopped listening a while afterwards because I genuinely found it so boring. 

I read the transcripts, if I even bothered looking at the episode at all. And I think this is where season 5 absolutely fails and kind of fucks up the entire show. We’re used to one base setting, the archives, and we’ve never really been told much about it’s appearance because it looks like a normal ass archive. Before or after each statement we’re used to having SOME sort of character interaction, jon and tim fighting or melanie going fuckin ham, thats the shit I actually listened for. In season 5 it’s all just walking and talking with jon and martin and while that doesnt sound bad, NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS BETWEEN EPISODES. they just talk about the same things, have bad communication and maybe have a few cute moments so that it isnt all doom and gloom, but besides that there’s not actual substance. tma was a show where it kind of caters to two groups, the lot who just want short horror stories read by a random ass british dude and the lot who want plot and character interaction. Seasons 1-4 had both but season 5 was majority just horror anthology. That’s not a bad thing in concept, but it’s a bad thing if you suddenly get rid of most characters and decimate anything actually interesting for the remaining characters to talk about other than “what do you think will happen,” “where do you think this person is,” and random exposition, exposition which is so constantly repeated that characters within the show bring up how it’s said so often.

What frustrated me so much about the finale was that there was literally no need for it. We’ve spent nearly 30 episodes being told everything, more than everything, about this apocalyptic world, yet when it comes to the finale it’s ALL up to interpretation? I’ve listened to so much shit about this world that really failed to interest me all, telling myself itll be worth it for the ending, just for it to end with “i dont know, you decide.” It really feels like a fuckin punch in the gut. It was predictable (which isn’t always a bad thing, but this was VERY predictable) and unsatisfying. I know I’m not alone on this either, I’ve spoken to friends who have thought the exact same thing. It was altogether just a very disappointing end to such a fantastic show.

Personally, I feel like it could have ended pretty nicely at season 3 or 4, maybe jon could have died at the end of season 3, leaving martin behind to deal with elias plans, thats pretty tragic. Or at the end of season 4 maybe jon could have actually killed jonah himself and then run away with martin to safe house, maybe they decide to start a new life there and they never hear from Basira, Melanie or Georgie again, neither of them know what Dasies fate was. Obviously this is just off the top of my head, and I’m pretty sure Jonny had this planned out from the start. I think he still made an incredible piece of media, it get me out of a really bad case of art block and basically carried me through the first lockdown, but I think it’s the execution that let it down in the end.

I don’t know. this is all just me rambling, but I figured I had to let it all out somewhere. magnus was a great experience and I’m glad I got to be a part of the fandom while it was arguably at it’s peak. I’ll definitely keep an eye on rusty quill and jonnys works, but I have to say that I’m just really dissappointed with how magnus ended after the amazing run it had. 

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Three

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 17th, 2000

Remy shook his head as he trudged around campus. He hated this. He hated this whole thing. The only thing that made college bearable was the idea that he might get a paying job from it, but he didn’t even have that job security for certain, so really, why was he here?

A familiar voice called his name from across the quad and Remy turned, rolling his eyes as Emile ran up to him excitedly. Yeah, college was annoying, and Emile could be a bit of a nuisance, but he was at least a familiar nuisance. And if Emile wanted to hang out with Remy, well, Remy wasn’t going to stop him, even if he didn’t see what Emile saw in him.

  May 20th, 2002

Remy kept the frustrated tears at bay for as long as it took for him to clock out at Starbucks and walk down the side, to the back parking lot. Once there, he punched the dumpster that was backed up against the building and a few tears slipped out from pain and from anger. He was beyond pissed, and he didn’t know why. He had seen this coming. He knew they weren’t going to pick him to become the new manager. And yet, when he heard the news, it still felt like his hopes shattered into a million pieces.

“It went that badly, huh?” Emile asked from behind him.

Remy turned swiping at the tears on his cheeks to find Emile standing there, hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he settled on saying.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Emile said, closing the distance between them and hugging Remy close. “You don’t deserve to be overlooked just because you don’t want a degree.”

“They didn’t even pick from the store,” Remy said. “They brought in someone else who doesn’t know the system, just because they have that stupid Bachelor’s.”

Emile winced and Remy sighed. “I mean, I saw it coming that I wouldn’t get the job, but seriously? Outside? Not even from another store, just someone who’s never worked there before. We’re gonna have to teach him everything in the span of maybe two weeks!” He shook his head. “Emile, I’m really sick of this.”

“I know you are,” Emile said.

“One day, I can quit this crappy job and be my own person,” Remy said. “One day.”

Emile nodded as he lead Remy to the car. “And that day will be amazing,” Emile agreed. “Until then, we should probably ice your hand and make sure nothing’s broken.”

Remy sighed. Punching the dumpster was a dumb move, but at the very least, it beat punching brick wall. “Yeah,” he said flatly.

Emile drove them home and Remy leaned back into the chair, trying to stop crying. All he was getting for his troubles was a headache and more tears. “My head hurts,” Remy griped.

“Not surprised,” Emile said. “Do you need to take some ibuprofen when we get back?”

“I don’t think so,” Remy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just need to get over myself.”

“Hey, hey,” Emile said, pulling into the parking lot. “You have every right to be upset, Rem, that’s an upsetting thing. You don’t have to ‘get over yourself.’”

Remy grumbled, “Then why am I getting so worked up over something I knew would happen?”

Emile shrugged. “I’m not inside your head, Rem, I can’t speak for you. If I had to hazard a guess, it’s because hiring someone from outside the company just adds insult to injury.”

Remy laughed hollowly. “Understatement,” he groused, getting out of the car and inspecting his hand. It was swelling a little, but didn’t immediately come across as “broken,” which was a promising sign. “You ever break a bone, Emile?” he asked.

“Uh...not that I remember. There were a couple close calls, but nothing ever broke. I did once dislocate my knee,” Emile said.

Remy winced. “Ouch. How?”

“One of my friends took martial arts classes, and taught me and some of our friends some of the moves, but we didn’t do much stretching before we tried it...and I wound up with a lot of pain the next day in gym class, to where I could barely walk.”

“Ooh!” Remy exclaimed, hissing. “That’s pretty bad.”

“Yep, six weeks of physical therapy, a knee brace, the whole deal,” Emile said. “You break a bone?”

“I fractured my wrist at like...age six.” Remy laughed. “I was running down the sidewalk, and I assume I tripped, because the next thing I know, my wrist feels like it’s on fire and I’m sprawled on the ground. Went to school the next day, couldn’t use scissors without pain, went to the nurse, and she pretty much knew it was broken within five minutes of seeing it. Called my mom, they took me to the doctor’s, got X-rays, and I got a sick-looking cast.”

“Your mom sent you to school with a broken wrist?” Emile asked incredulously.

Remy shrugged. “She didn’t know how to identify a broken bone, she just assumed I cried for half an hour because, y’know, I’ve always been a crybaby. You got sent to school with a dislocated knee!”

“Because it didn’t really start hurting until gym class,” Emile said. “If a six year old cries for half an hour over tripping on a sidewalk, something’s up.”

Remy waved off Emile’s concern. “Eh, she apologized about it later. It wasn’t the end of the world, and because it happened during the school year, I still had two months where I could swim in the pool after the cast came off.”

Emile squinted at Remy and Remy rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You’re excusing your mother’s actions again.”

“She didn’t know, Emile,” Remy said. As they got inside the apartment and Emile gave Remy an ice pack, Remy continued, “You don’t have to know everything about injuries to become a parent.”

“No, but I still think crying for half an hour over a trip should be investigated. And if a school nurse can identify the injury that quickly, shouldn’t the parent be a tad bit suspicious before the kid leaves for school? Because obviously there would be swelling.”

Remy shrugged. “Listen, this wasn’t too bad. She was just forgetful in this case,” he defended. “She’s done worse, you’ve seen her do worse.”

Emile pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did she dismiss other health concerns?”

“I didn’t tell her about other health concerns, like in high school when everyone was turning against me except Toby. She couldn’t dismiss what she wasn’t told about.”

“But you didn’t tell her because she would dismiss it?” Emile questioned. “That seems to be what you’re implying.”

“Okay, she brushed off some things in middle school, things that I don’t even remember because I blocked them out. They couldn’t be too severe if I’m still standing here, though,” Remy brushed off.

Emile sighed and Remy inwardly grimaced. He knew that sigh. It was the sigh Emile got whenever he thought Remy was dismissing key parts of his mental health. “Remy...”

“Can we just agree to drop this subject and let me return to bitching about not getting the manager position?” Remy requested. “I know my mom wasn’t on top of it. I know she was bad. And we just disagree about how severe this infraction was. I agree that she should have done something, at least asked me why I was crying so much, but she didn’t. It’s over. Done with. Has been for years. I just want to gripe.”

Emile sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just talk about what’s going on in the here and now.”

Remy nodded his thanks. “I don’t think my hand is broken,” he said idly. “It would be swelling more if that was the case. Even with ice, it would look different.”

“Agreed,” Emile said. “You still shouldn’t have punched the dumpster.”

“It was that or the brick wall,” Remy said drily.

Emile shook his head. “Rem, you worry me, to this day.”

“Yeah, well. I’m getting better at controlling my anger, it just...needs an outlet, and I couldn’t hold it back further without risking lashing out, so I took it out on the closest inanimate object to me,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes and took the ice pack off Remy’s hand to kiss the knuckles. “You may be an impulsive man, but you’re my impulsive man. And I’m proud that you’re working to control the more angry impulses.”

Remy offered Emile a smirk. “I thought you liked it when things got heated.”

“Not in this context,” Emile laughed.

Remy grinned, before looking at his hand and sighing. “Man, I wish I could be running my own shop right about now.”

“Hey, one day,” Emile said, squeezing Remy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but that’s going to take so long,” Remy sighed. “Too long. I’ll still have to deal with this new manager, and what happens if I can’t hide my resentment well enough?”

“Remy, I know this probably doesn’t help, but I’m fairly sure you can hide your disdain behind your customer service smile. You’re consistently way better at that than I am. He might know it’s fake, he might not. Regardless, he can’t hold you accountable so long as you don’t say how you really feel about him and you keep smiling.”

“I don’t want to keep smiling,” Remy sighed. “I want to be able to be mad, and to cry, and I want people to know that I’m human.”

“Unfortunately, the downside of working in food service or retail hell is that a lot of people won’t see you as human,” Emile said knowingly. “But you’re always free to be human around me, and our friends, and anyone else we run into when you’re not working.”

“I know,” Remy grumbled. Didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to put up with this.

“Rem, time will pass without you realizing it, and one day, you’re going to wake up, and realize you have the money and power to start your own coffee shop, and you’re going to absolutely crush it,” Emile said with conviction. “Trust me. It might be hard to see right now, but you’re destined for greatness.”

That, at least, got Remy to laugh. He both loved and hated when Emile got all storybook cliché on him. “I would disagree about the destiny thing,” Remy said. “I carve my own destiny.”

“Exactly why it’s true,” Emile replied smoothly. “You don’t wait around looking for your purpose, you go out and make a purpose that fits you.”

“I would argue that I wouldn’t make the purpose. Plenty of people have dropped out of college before. Many people have become entrepreneurs. It’s not exactly a unique path,” Remy brushed off.

“Yeah, but it still goes against the norms of what people expect of you. Instead of just going with the flow, you’re standing tall. And nothing can push you around if you don’t let it. Honestly it’s...pretty inspiring,” Emile said.

Remy laughed. “Please, Emile. I don’t have this heart-stopping origin story that you’re making this out to be.”

“I don’t know,” Emile said with a shrug. “I just think that you’re pretty impressive. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t have ever gotten this far.”

“I mean, I think you could have gotten out of my family situation before I ever did, and made a name for yourself however you wanted,” Remy said with a shrug in return.

Emile offered a slightly bitter smile, which surprised Remy. “Rem, believe me when I say that the only reason you believe that is because my parents taught me how to stand up for myself. You learned how to stand up on your own. No one taught you. If I had been in your position, I probably wouldn’t have lasted through high school. You’re impossibly strong.”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I guess I’m strong. I’m taking you at your word on that, but I didn’t learn how to stand up on my own. You’re the one who taught me that.”

Emile shook his head. “No, Rem, I may have shown you where to stand tall and demand respect, but even before I met you, you were trying to make your own way in the world. Studying business over accounting, remember? That was all you. You’ve got what it takes to make your own place in the world. And if I were a betting man, I’d put all my money on you.”

Remy stood there, shocked into silence for a good minute. He didn’t know what Emile saw in him to cause that sort of conviction, but he knew that Emile was serious in this. And he wasn’t about to disappoint Emile. He smiled. He would get through this. He’d get through it and go his own way, sooner or later. “I love you too, Emile.”

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #26

Chapter 26: Misery

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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[HOTLAND: LEVEL 2 MOMENTS BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Mettaton zooms through the air, the speed makes it hard to try to look for anything I can lock-on as a potential landmark. The worst part, I can't tell if Flowey is able to follow or can reach this far safely. Who am I kidding? Flowey has the best odds of making it around here without a scratch. Unlike my dumbass.

"THIS WILL DO."

He lands faster than expected. The shock shacks my insides uncomfortably. I gag trying to keep my stomach from flying out.

"SORRY, DARLING. I'LL ATTEMPT TO BE GENTLER IN THE FUTURE."

He puts me down, my legs buckle like a baby calf's but I manage to stand.

"N-No worries. Just...Just give me a moment."

He chuckles and gets ready to blast off again.

"SO CUTE. NOW LISTEN UP...HOTLAND IS LEVELED OUT IN THREE PARTS. WE WERE ON LEVEL ONE. THIS IS LEVEL TWO. FROM THIS ROOM, MAKE A RIGHT AND CONTINUE ONWARD. YOU'LL NEED TO REACH THE ELEVATOR TO PROCEED. THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?"

I wave at him.

"Go right. Got it. *heavy sigh* Um...Are there more vents?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Metta?"

"TOODLES!"

He blasts off and I roar our swears. Oh well. No point fussing on that. If I'm lucky Flowey will have heard my shouting and come to help me. But this room...The path leading out is glass. The land isn't connected. Flowey would have to dive deeper to find a joining point, most likely it would be too deep and the heat harmful. I need to leave and not look down. I take a step but fumble, grabbing a random signpost to stop the fall.

"Damn it...Is this what jet-lag is?"

The sign's writing makes me curious.

[Art Club: Meet here! Next meeting: October 10th, 8PM]

Huh? Wait...What is the date and time? Argh! I have no sense for time anymore. Toriel has an out-of-date calendar that she refuses to change which doesn't help and the cellphone had the closest thing to a clock yet there's no telling if it was on time.

"Ahhhh!!! I'm late!!! I'm late!!! I'm so sorry!!!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a doughy butterscotch colored monster in a black fedora and vest comes rushing towards this spot with papers fluttering away from him. He's in such a damn hurry that he trips and ends up crashing, skidding to a stop inches from my feet.

"*grumble* Son of a..."

He picks himself up and quickly grabs what papers he can. He looks odd. I'm getting weird neck-bread vibes off him. It's probably the fedora. Maybe if he took it off and let his brown hair free...What the fuck, am I thinking like a girl? Ewww! Stupid girl thoughts! That's my once per month. No more.

"So stupid! Why am I so clumsy? I hate being such a klutz!"

Poor guy.

"Need some help?"

He flinches. Did...Did he just realize I was here?

"W-Who are you? This is my spot! Get out!"

"Whoa! Chill. No need to be so harsh, kangaroo-boy."

His eyes widen.

"Kangaroo..."

Ah...shit. I know that look by now. My blue soul comes out.

"I'M A BUTTERDRAGON!!"

[WRONG ENEMY !? begins to play in the background.]

...Fuck my life. Wait...What the fuck is a butterdragon?

[You're blocked in angrily!]

"I come here to find something to draw. And what do I find? Some ignorant bitch that wouldn't know a masterpiece if it smacked her in the face!"

Is he referring to himself?

"It's time someone taught you a lesson! Consider it a gift. Let me look in my vest!"

He spins around and swings at me with his tail. It's coated in light blue magic. Fine. I don't move. It turns orange. I jump over it. It turns blue for two more swipes before turns around.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

"Oh! Whoops! That had to hurt! So sorry, I must have..."

He freezes seeing nothing happened to me.

"You...You're fine?"

I shrug. No point opening my mouth. He talks enough for the both of us.

[The enemy looks nervous.]

"Ummm, I...I couldn't find anything I want to give away. *softer* Not that I wanted to give you anything. *normal* Wait, wait! *laugh* I've got my notebook! I can draw you a picture in it! I'm quite the artist, you know. I'll draw you a GREAT picture!!!"

"It's not your turn."

He flinches.

"Oh...Right."

I look at my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

What even is that button? Eh...I don't need it. Not with this guy.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[SOMETHING]

What's with all the weird shit? Just be simple damn it.

[CHECK selected.]

[SO SORRY (REAL NAME, SAMAEL "SAM" D. BUTTERDRAGON) – HP: 1100  ATK: 9 DEF: -6 – This creature is definitely in the wrong time and space!]

Time and space...How the hell does he have negative defense?! That's a thing?!

"My turn!"

My thoughts are broken. He turns around to draw in his notebook, attacking once more with his tail. Blue swish. Orange swish. Blue swish. Blue swish. Orange swish. Orange swish.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Again he doesn't understand how I got away with no damage. Dude, I can't help that you're attack is obviously telegraphed.

[The enemy looks anxious.]

"S...sorry...The drawing didn't come out very well. Wait! I know the problem! I just have to find a better piece of paper for it!"

"I'm not sure that's how drawing works. But you do you."

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

"I don't want your pity."

Was worth a shot considering the way this fight's going.

"I'll settle on a draw-ing if that's better."

I emphasize the pun with a teasing wink. He gets a little frazzled.

"Uh...Don't do that again. Like...ever."

Screw it. I want to have some fun.

"Why? Are you gonna pun-ish me?"

His right eye twitches.

"Stop it."

"I have an ink-ling this is getting to you. But trust me...You paint seen nothing yet."

Getting frustrated he yanks at his hair before turning around and chucking crumpled balls of paper at me from over his shoulders. Finally, something I need to dodge that will take effort. Each toss has three balls and he does this ten times. The dude's wasting perfectly fine paper. Shameful.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm starting to think he's getting bothered by his inability to hurt me.

[The enemy looks perturbed.]

Called it.

"N-None of my papers are good enough to use..."

[SPARE selected.]

"It's not the tools. They don't create. They are but aids. It's the artist. Their skill and heart. That is key. Anyone can draw. It's as easy as breathing. But if you stress out and push too hard, if you forget to enjoy yourself...Then even what you'd call your masterpiece will never be good enough."

He looks at me funny.

"My advice, Mr. Butterdragon...Don't try to make something as others expect it to be made. Create something as you want it to be. Only then will you be happy with it. I would know. I'm a dabbler at doodling and there's something so...interesting...in being able to take a pencil and transfer an image that you only saw in your head to paper. Though I can never seem to get hands just right."

I look at my hands.

"Weird flesh sticks. Why are you so hard to draw?!"

He thinks for a moment. But then...

"THAT'S IT!!! I know what I can do!! I'll use my magic pencil! It has to be under some of these papers somewhere!!!!"

I take it he's still bent on attacking to prove he can draw. He goes back to tossing paper and by this point, I found a spot to just stand in where nothing falls near, so I wait till he's done.

"Here! I got it! My magic pencil is amazing! Everything I draw with it looks..."

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

This fight is so boring. I mean, I'm grateful to not have my ass kicked or beaten within moments of death's door, but...Is he really trying? Froggits try harder than this.

"Why aren't you hurt?!"

I cover my mouth in a yawn.

"Dude, can you let me spare you already? I need to get to level three before Mettaton has a fit."

[SPARE selected.]

He didn't like hearing this.

[The enemy taps his fingers together like jackhammers.]

"I'll show you. I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!! I AM A REAL ARTIST!!"

With pencil in hand, he scribbles into the air and much to my understanding of reality he adds two horned demons doodles to fight on his side.

[DOODLEBOG – HP: 100 ATK: 8 DEF: 999 – Art lets your wildest fantasies come to life!]

"Like I was saying...Anything I draw with this pencil becomes COMPLETELY REAL! But in your case, a little too real!"

I can't help the odd smirk that crawls across my lips.

"Finally..."

I stretch and pop some joints.

"I was starting to fall asleep. Show me what you've been holding back. Let the creativity flow!"

Both Doodlebogs launch eight doodle orbs in circle formations at me. The good news, there's room to move and enough spacing to do some fun maneuvering. The bad news...It's still freaking easy! They shoot this move twice before their turn ends. And still...

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm disappointed. And so is he.

"What...How...?!"

[The enemy is confused.]

I shake my head. Seems that's all he's got. Though, to his credit, those drawings need to go. But how do I do that? Hmmm...Maybe...

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[DRAW]

[SOMETHING]

What's this? Oh...Oh hell yeah.

[DRAW selected.]

"W-Wait...You can't..."

I grab my soul, not sure what else I'm to use, and trace out a large cat that glows like my soul.

"Sketch-kitty, pounce the Doodlebog on the left!"

The cat does as commanded, pouncing at the Doodlebog and they tussle off the side to the heat death below. He panics.

"How dare you use art against me! Don't just stand there, kill her!"

The remaining Doodlebog fires the same attack as before but done three times in rapid secession. I harder move yes, but one that still leaves spots open wiggle on through.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[The enemy is desperate.]

"H-Hey now...There's no need to do anything crazy. I-I shouldn't have attacked you. That was dumb. W-We good?"

Huh...I don't know if he's being truthful. I try to use MERCY but the button doesn't push in. Something is locking it. I wonder if it's because of the doodle? Is it affecting the battle conditions? To be safe, I'll return things to how they were.

[DRAW selected.]

"You're cheating! You have to be! No one can be this good!"

I roll my eyes while tracing out a massive snake.

"Sketch-snake, put the squeeze to the Doodlebog."

It strikes with the speed of a viper and coils the doodle like a constrictor. The doodle fights back, clawing at the sketch. The sketch knows what its mission is. It throws itself and the doodle over the edge, so now it's only the two of us. He is at a loss what to do.

[The enemy uses a hypnotizing 3D-tush-wiggle attack. Smells... furry.]

I think he's freaked out and out of options. His strongest move, an insane trump card, and I not only countered it but bested it.

[The enemy is apologizing to its visions of the Reaper.]

...What?

"I've messed up. I've really messed up. Oh no. I'm so dead! No...No. I won't let you kill me."

"Dude, I'm clearly not trying to kill you."

"I won't let art die!"

"And you're not listening."

"I'll use this regular pencil! I'll use 100% of best! There is no way you'd kill the maker of such a fine piece!"

He turns around and scribbles furiously. His tail swipes quickly and paper balls fly like crazy. This creates difficulty because trying to dodge the balls is made harder when trying to either stand still for light-blue attacks or move for the orange ones. Orange tail, orange tail, blue tail, blue tail, orange tail, and blue tail. This is how he should've been going at me from the start. It's a good attack.

[HP ███████████████████████████ 27/40]

"Are you ready!? I just finished! Here's your picture!"

He's so proud of it that he doesn't even notice that he finally did damage to me. The picture is a heart.

"What do you think!? It's a representation of your deepest essence... It's great, right!?"

I don't say a word. What did he mean by that? How is a heart my deepest essence? Is it a picture of my soul and souls are the essence of life? How the fuck did he being about so much thought with a heart?! My silence has him become uncomfortable.

"... (They think my art is terrible.) Well! I'll leave you with that thought! Goodbye! See you later! Sayonara! Nice knowing ya! Hasta la vista. ... I should leave."

He attempts to leave but he freezes when I quickly grab his tail.

"Um..."

"That image...You poured your heart into and it shows. It made me think. Art does that. It makes you think and feel. You did that to me. ...10 out of 10."

His eyes widen.

"R-Really?"

I nod and let his tail go...only to get a sappy hug from the butterball.

"Thank you!"

I made his day. He was trying to kill me and is now hugging me over a compliment. I think this is over.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 318 gold.]

Holy shit! I'm rich!

The battle music fades out as he lets me go. My soul returns to me.

"Did you...Did you really like it?"

I nod.

"You gave it your all. That makes it special. Keep that spirit and don't be afraid to try other styles. You'll be amazed at what you can do if you try."

"Like your animals?"

"Animals have always been easy for me. It's people that are my weak-link. Um...Can I see that pencil for a sec?"

He hands me his notebook and normal pencil, to which I make two different drawings. One, a traditional European dragon spouting flame. This is my specialty, I can make these almost with my eyes closed. But the second one is my try at an anime version of myself. I use the eraser a lot on the face, hands, and chest. It never looks right to me once I'm okay with another part of the body. Yet I know I can't spend ages on this so I hand it over when I believe it looks okay.

"See what I mean now?"

"What are you talking about? These are great."

"Exactly..."

He's confused.

"Even when it's good, I still think I suck. But it's that negativity that spurs me to try harder. One day, I shall get those parts down and be happy with it without erasing whole bits out of frustration or doubt in ability. So...yeah...Keep those. Let them help you. Inspire you to be better in spite of others and yourself. Refuse to give up. And never surrender."

He gives me a funny look and I rub the back of my head with a nervous laugh.

"Heh...I have no idea where I was going with that. I tend to ramble when trying to be positive."

A small smile comes to him as he takes a few steps past me.

"I think I get what you're saying. If it's all the same to you...I think I want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit. Might see what ideas come."

I smirk.

"Take care, buddy. May the Muses inspire you to greatness."

I leave the butterdragon to his thoughts and not look down at the glass path that must be crossed. Yet it's doing so that alarms my brain. The land is not solid rock. The land is being supported by thick metal pipes and trussed beams that don't look like they're meant to be used here. I'm conflicted, I feel safe and unease at the same time. It also doesn't help I don't have Flowey with me. I need him. I don't like proceeding without my bro. So...

"Flowey! Bro, I'm up over here! Hurry up!"

Not expecting a response, least of all right away, I aim to head out slowly in hopes that he'll catch up to me before I really need him. But the path actually branches like a 4-way intersection and I get confused. Left is probably back to level one but what's the forward path? I shrug and check it out. Not like I have a killer robot to appease because I'm on TV. Thankfully, it's an empty spot of land. Scratch that. An empty spot of land with some trash on it.

[There's an apron lying on the ground.]

Really? That scrap's an apron?

I inspect the ragged thing and find it's in better shape than it looks.

[Will you take it or leave it?]

This option leads me to believe it's a human item. Probably pairs with this frying pan. Yes, I want it.

[You got the Splattered Apron.]

...Do I wanna equip it? Ugh...I tie the apron around my waist but backwards so it covers my ass.

[You equipped the Splattered Apron.]

[You gain 11 Defense.]

[Are the splotches from food, an enemy, or the former wearer? You don't want to know. Heals 1 HP every other turn.]

Wait...Did it say...?!

[HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 38]

Holy shit! Score!

"So...Does that only work in fights?"

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Huh. Guess not. Yet it said every other turn so who knows what that counts as.

I leave to continue all while paying half-attention to my HP. 1 point healing is better than nothing, though it's gonna be a while before I'm healed completely.

It's warm on this level. Still hot but not as bad as level one. Digital cords pulsate with energy from deep down to high above me. And in the distance...a massive mechanical structure. It sits in the lava like a slumbering leviathan. Imposing, mysterious, and giving off the vibes of "STAY THE FUCK AWAY". I better not have to go there.

After a short stroll, I come upon an obstacle or, as monsters put it, a puzzle. There are two conveyor belts, one going forward and the other back towards me. The forward one has three of those thick metal pipes near it and each pipe has a switch. At the end, there's what looks to be a Tesla Coil set up to prevent safe passing. Putting the bits together is easy. I step on the belt and keep walking, flipping the switches as I go. The third flip turns the current off and I can progress.

I regret this.

Literally forty feet away I'm met by those fucking vents. However...beside the vents is a large conveyor belt made of three merged ones. That's moving at the same speed as the one I was just on. Idea time. I dash jump across the belts. Leaping just in case someone somewhere decides to mess with the speed. Lucky me, no dick moves were made and I avoided doing my scarier backup plan of climbing on the support trusses. At least the path is clear now, which is good.

The heat begins to climb as I approach pumping stacks of hot gas. It makes the air thick and hard to breathe. The sooner I get past these things the better. Part of me questions why I don't hoof it on a crawl and then I have to remind that part that the land is inclining upward so it's bloody pointless. My throat is drying out, my lungs burn, and my eyes sting even with the tears trying to soothe the pain. Even the sounds of gears grinding in the background is starting to irritate my senses. But all this just makes me strive forward more to get back to some form of normalcy. Augh...What's my HP at now?

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Keep moving, slowpoke."

My blurry eyes spy a white speck among all the orange-brown.

"Bro?"

Something wraps around my wrist and pulls me slowly, leading me like a child helps an elder cross the road. Soon the air is clear and wiping my eyes lets me see Flowey. A very welcoming sight indeed.

"Bro!"

"Good to see you too."

"How did you get up here? The land is broken."

"Not all of it. I pretty much climbed up one high point, crossed over to another, and repeat till I got here. Did you forget how nimble I can be?"

I smack my forehead making him snicker.

"Sometimes it scares me to think how you've managed to not die."

He gets a chuckle out of me.

"Same."

We move on...only to be blocked by two heavily armored guards. One is a rabbit or hare and the other is more of a dragon than butterball was. Adorning fierce, brutal, and intimidating black armor bearing the blood-red Deltarune insignia. On their helms, shoulders, and wrists are jagged threatening spikes. But the real danger that has my attention are the very large swords.

"Are you shitting me?"

"They...aren't supposed to be here."

I look at Flowey funny and he flinches.

"I mean...They don't usually..."

"*mumble* Timeline bullshit. *normal* Fuck it...Yo! Can you two move? We need to reach level three...please?"

I'm sure that saved it from all my attitude.

"Human..."

Nothing good has ever happened to me when someone says "human".

"You're late."

Oh. Well, that's different.

"For...?"

They point their swords at me.

"Your funeral."

"Really? Was that the best you could come up with?"

The rabbit shrugs.

"I thought it was pretty tough."

The dragon punches his arm.

"I told you it was weak."

"It's not like we had a lot of time to come up with something better."

"Right. All the direction Mettaton gave us was 'stall her' while he does stupid crap."

"Let's just get this over with before the Captain finds out."

They rush towards me...then stop. But not a normal stop. They're frozen in place. I look at Flowey, he's stuck in mid-sink into the ground. The hell is going on? It's as if...as if time stopped?

"Sans? Sans, is this you? Where are you?"

White noise, like static on a TV. It pierces my ears as if it were stabbing my very brain. Covering my ears does nothing to stop it. I drop to my knees.

"Sa҉ns͏..̕."

A voice barely solidifies in the sounds assaulting my hearing.

"H͞è's n̢ot he̡r͠e,͟ l͡i̡ttl͡e ͜on̴ę.̨ He ͞can'͏t ̸in̵tęr͜f̛ere҉ w̧i̧th o͝úr̨ f́u͟ņ."

I muster the strength to turn my head and am confronted by a grayed-out monster with a blacked-out face holding a smaller face in its hand. The face looks at me with a small creepy smile. My eyes widen. The face spoke. And it speaks in rhyme. What the fuck?!

"What the hell are you?"

"M̛e? I̕'҉m͠ ͡a ̨f̡o͢l͜l͘ow̵er ̡of̶ ͘the g͠rea͝t Royal͏ ͟Sc͞ien͘t͝i͝st͟,̢ D͜ơc̢tor̕ ̵W̛.D. ̵Gast̀e͞r̀.͘ On̵e day͞,̨ h́e ͝va͝n͞i͡sh̀e͜d͘ w̷itḩou̕t̡ a҉ t́r̶ąc̛e.͝ T̛hey͞ ͠s̡a̢y҉ ̷he ҉s̡hat̕te̶r̷ed ͝ac̛ross̡ ti҉m͠e̴ an͘d̢ ҉s̨pac͘e. Ha H̷a͞.͝..̡ho͠w ̧c̸án I͞ s͠ay̢ s̸o͏ wit͟ho̴u͘t ͘f̶e͟a̸r͘?͝ ̸I'm h̸o͜l͘ding͞ a ̴p̵ie͘ce҉ ͜of̡ h͡im ̶r̶iģht͢ ͢her͞e."

This...This shit right here triggers something primal in me...I get genuinely freaked out. Fleeing like a puppy that just met the big noisy vacuum for the first time. And yeah, this was an overreaction. I've dealt with some insane shit at this point, you'd think I'd be hardened like a soulless speck of dirt. But no. That made me too unsettled and any tough wall I had crumbled. I zoom past the few other frozen in time monsters along the way till I reach the elevator. I spam hit the button, praying it will ignore the fact time is dead and let me in something that I can pretend is safer than out here.

*BING*

A sound other than static? There is a god!

The doors shift open and a grayed-out bird monster with terrible posture along with a grayed-out small humanoid monster stop me in my tracks.

There is no god!

"D͏r.̡ G̴as͝t̶e͠ŕ..͝.͡H̛i͞s brìllia͢n͝cé w͡a҉s̸ ͞irr̷e̶p͞l͞ac͢eabl̨e̶.̷"

"҉W͢hat͏ a̡n ̢áct to ̴foll̕o҉w͟! T́h͘e̷y ̨s͠ay̨ ͏h̶ę c͢r̨eat̛e̴ḑ t͜h͜e͜ ͞C̕O͜R̷E̶."

"Hoẁe͘v͢e̕r, h͜i͏s ͞life҉..͝.̸was ͠c͡u͡t s͘hort."

They say ominously together.

"O͡ne̕ ͟d́a͢y̕,͝ h̵i͟ś ҉ex̵pęri͜m̨e̵ntś w̧ent̡ ̸wr̢on͜g̢, ͡an̡ḑ..̀."

"He̴ fe̸l̢l̡ ̕i͞n̴t͜o ̀hi̵s͡ cr̷eat̀i͢ón̢."

"Węll,̴ ͝w̡e҉ needn̨'͡t͠ gos̕s̕i҉p.̧ A̷f͢t͠e͟r al̵l͏,̷ ҉i̸t'ş ̧rude to ̀tal͡k̨ ab͏o̢u͠t̛ s҉o̵me̢o͘n҉è w̛h͢o̕'s l̷i̕s͢te̡n͢ing.̸"

They grab me and pull me in before my body chooses to run.

"*snarls* Let go you creeps!"

"D̵o̵n't ̕st͠r̴ưg̷gle̵,̧ l͡i͞t̕t̛l҉e o͟n͡e.́"

"̸Yo̷u ͝d͞o͠n͏'t̴ w͡an̸t ̴harm to co͢me̛ to̷ ̡t̀h̢e̵ flo͜wer��.̡"

Oh fuck...I left Flowey with the creepy face-hand thing. I cease my fighting.

"G҉o͡od͞ ̷ģir̡l."

The doors shut with a quickness.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

They watch as the human and flower are confronted by the two Royal Guards. And of course, they do as they've been trained. Attack the human. But something weird happens. The guards begin to attack and the screen of the TV glitches into static before the picture returns. Only now the guards have stopped their action and the flower, which was retreating from danger, pops back out in confusion along with everyone else. The human is gone. It happened within the blink of an eye. One second she was there and the next she's not. And now the screen cuts to a "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" image. What is going on?

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne and Alphys are equally as perplexed as everyone else that's tuned in.

"Alphys, where did the human go?"

Undyne irritatedly asks through her teeth. On her end, Alphys is switching through camera feeds like crazy.

"I'm looking! I'm looking!"

The screen swaps from camera to camera and multiple different angles. But there's nothing. Sure, there are monsters. Some just going about their lives. Some slacking around. Even an embarrassing shot of a Pyrope shoving a sandwich into the top of a Vulkin. But no sign of the human on level two.

"Where are you, damn it?!"

"Stop!"

Undyne's shout makes Alphys jump.

"Go back five clicks."

And so she does. The feed is an odd far shot from the gas stacks. It can just barely view the guards let alone the flower who suddenly ducks away. The guards seem even more confused.

"What are we looking for?"

Undyne points at the screen and Alphys sighs.

"If I can't see it on my end, you pointing from a distance does nothing for me!"

Undyne growls.

"Look up, genius!"

Alphys leers at the fish-woman before leering at the view she has on her monitor. Due to the far away placement of the camera, it can see up to the platform of level three. And there, dangling over the side, is a pale white arm that stands out over the red platform and gold LED lights scheme.

"The hell...?"

She switches to the level three cameras.

"Ha! I knew I saw something."

With the better view, they now see the human face-down just a few feet from the elevator.

"How the hell did she get up there?"

Alphys gets out her phone and sends a quick text. When there's no reply she presses a button and a moment later is sent a reply. A few messages are sent as Mettaton zooms on screen.

"What? Why's the tin can there now?"

Undyne is out of the loop as usual.

"Who else do you know can zip over there as fast?"

Mettaton pulls the human to the center of the path, away from a stupid falling to death, and checks over her seemingly lifeless body. Her eyes are open and empty as if someone replaced her peepers with billiards cue balls that glow. Marks on her arms look like bruising but weren't there before nor gained in her earlier fight. Then...Alphys gets a text.

"Hmmm..."

"What's up?"

"Vital signs are still going but her breathing has stopped."

She texts back to Mettaton.

"So...She's dead?"

"No. Not yet at least. According to Mettaton, her HP is full and not depleting. However, if she doesn't start breathing, her HP should drain and she will die."

"Then wha...?"

"Look at the TV, dear."

Undyne looks back at the screen to see Mettaton performing chest compressions in patterns.

"With her heart still pumping it means all other functions are still working. It's likely something happened in whatever event that caused her to get up there to give her trauma. The trauma probably made her brain fail to send the right signals to her lungs and thus, she's in respiratory arrest. So I've instructed Mettaton to force her body to restart her breathing manually with basic CPR."

They watch the robot press into her chest for a good couple of minutes before the human suddenly bolts up violently. Mettaton restrains the hysterical woman as the life returns to her eyes, sight restored settles her down some but she appears terribly shaken.

"Ask him if he can get her to tell him what happened."

"Already sent and awaiting reply."

Mettaton appears to speak with her but she either says very little or nothing at all. She merely holds her self in an attempt to cease her trembling and looks out at what bit of the CORE is still visible from that point.

"Huh...He says she isn't telling. At most, she said it's nothing and it just happens sometimes."

"Super vague and avoiding the subject? That kind of shit ain't normal."

Alphys agrees but it's not like they have the human in custody to interrogate for answers. She sends the text.

"The hell?"

Mettaton offers some concern and encouragement before blasting off, leaving the human alone.

"Why's he leaving her?!"

"He did what was needed. Now the show can continue as planned."

Undyne glares.

"That's twice now. You could've let her die."

"I still need more data. Something odd happened and I need to figure it out."

Undyne huffs softly.

"Fine. You know...You can only string someone along for so long before that string breaks, Alphys."

The lizard-woman chuckles.

"Worried about the human? That's cute."

"I wasn't talking about the human."

Undyne guzzles her remaining ramen and Alphys isn't sure how to respond.

"For your sake, the human better be worth all this effort."

She lifts her bowl.

"More."

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3 BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Static. Everything is static. Static is all I see and hear. I can't feel anything. Am I dead? Is this what death is? If it is...It's incredibly boring. At least Hell would have a wicked soundtrack to drone out to while being tortured. Suddenly, I feel something. And it hurts. Like something is bouncing on my chest and pauses a bit before doing it again for longer.

Please...Leave me alone...Let me be...I don't want to go back...Don't make me go back...Please...

"*gasps and coughs*"

My lungs burn in this reawakening but my sight is still static. Purgatory. Pain before Heaven. The sins must be suffered away. This must be what's happening. Hands. I feel hands and panic, stress levels at critical. I take a swing at where I think they are.

"D̕͡oņ͟'̕͝t ̨̀͝to͝͏uch̷́͝ ͘me͘͜!̴̵͝"

There's hesitation before more force is used and I'm pinned to what I assume is a floor. I thrash harshly.

"L̸̀e͢a̡͜v̴͟͢e ͘m̵e͞ ͝al҉̀o̷̴n̴̨e̶̢!̡͞ ̡͡Ḑ͞o͝n̶͝'̨̕t ̢͏̡I ͜s̸̛u͜͜f̵͝f̷͠͝er̛ ̧e͏͜n̢o̵u҉͢͢g̶͡͡ḩ?!͏"

"CALM...I...LYNSIE."

A voice? A normal voice?

"DON'T...ME...RELAX."

The struggling I was doing ends. And as I settle down the static that had blinded me subsides. My location is unknown. But I know the one holding me down.

"M-Metta?"

Seeing I'm normal, Mettaton helps me get back on my feet yet I'm unsettled by...things.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, DARLING? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Flashes of memory flicker in my head. Those...things...Followers of Gaster...The things they did...

I hold myself and fight the tears trying to come to my eyes. I don't say a thing.

"LYNSIE...HOW DID YOU GET UP HERE? WHY DID I FIND YOU NOT BREATHING?"

I rub my eyes.

"I need my phone. *shaky inhale* I gotta talk to my mom."

"YOU KNOW I DON'T HAVE IT. AND IF I DID, I'M STILL UNSURE YOU WOULDN'T CALL OUT TO YOUR FRIENDS."

He's not wrong. I wasn't going to call Toriel. I was going to give Sans nightmares with the shit done to me.

"NOW COME ON. YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG."

"...N-Nothing's wrong. This...This just happens sometimes."

He's not buying it. I'm doing a piss poor attempt to play off that I'm fine.

"DARLING, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE AND ABOUT TO CRY. JUST TALK TO ME. WHAT HAPPENED? YOU VANISHED FROM SIGHT AND ENDED UP HERE AT THE START OF LEVEL THREE COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS."

I don't say a word.

"DID SOMEONE USE MAGIC ON YOU? IS YOUR SOUL OKAY?"

I flinch at the mentioning of my soul and refuse any further interaction.

"LYNSIE...?"

I refuse to look at him. He sighs.

"IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, DUE TO TIME CRUNCHING, THE THIRD ACT WAS CANCELED. BETWEEN YOUR STALLING FROM HEIGHTS, ALL THESE RANDOM FIGHT ENCOUNTERS, AND EVENTS OF THE FIRST AND SECOND ACT...CHANGES IN THE PROGRAM HAVE BEEN MADE. HEH...ORIGINALLY, THE THIRD ACT WAS GOING TO HAVE YOU DEFUSE A SERIES OF BOMBS PLACED AROUND THE AREA WITHIN A TIME LIMIT. YET EVEN I THOUGHT THAT WAS UNFAIR. THAT AND THE SCRIPT FOR IT WAS JUST AWFUL. NO WAY AM I DISGRACING MYSELF WITH SUCH A POORLY DIRECTED SHOW."

I guess that is some good news. It's probably why he had those guards posted there to stall me.

"BUT...I DO HAVE SOME BAD NEWS."

This gets me to look at him.

"FROM HERE, IN THE NEXT ROOM YOU WILL FIND A SEEMINGLY CHARMING SPIDER NAMED MUFFET. SHE'S A CUNT."

Well, that escalated quickly.

"SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE SPIDERS IN THE UNDERGROUND AND RUNS A SUPPOSED BAKERY. IT'S A FRONT. SHE'S AN EXTORSHINISH. SHE'LL SAY AND DO ANYTHING IF IT MEANS SHE'LL GET GOLD. CLAIMS THE MONEY IS NEEDED TO SAVE THE SPIDERS IN THE RUINS OR SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT."

"It sounds like you don't like her very much."

"NO, NOT REALLY. I COULD CARE LESS WHAT SHE DOES. THE THING THAT PISSES ME OFF IS THAT SHE PREYS ON MY WORKERS, KILLS THE ONES THAT CAN'T PAY HER OUTRAGEOUS FEES, AND, WORST OF ALL, SHE REFUSED TO DEAL WITH ME!"

I tilt my head.

"I HAVE TRIED TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO GET HER TO SELL FOOD UNDER MY BRAND. BUT SHE SAYS MY NAME WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE HER LOSE GOLD. SERIOUSLY? THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH. I PRACTICALLY OWN HOTLAND AND SHE HAS THE NERVE TO UTTER SUCH SHIT!"

His screen flashes for a moment before he calms down.

"YET DESPITE THAT...KNOWING YOU AND HOW YOU HANDLE DIFFICULT MONSTERS, I'M CONFIDENT YOU CAN GET BY HER WITH LITTLE ISSUE."

"...You have that much faith in me?"

He spins on his wheel.

"WOULD YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IF I SAY I DO?"

My dower expression answers him for me.

"WELL, IT WAS WORTH A TRY."

His wheel retracts to fly.

"WE WILL MEET AGAIN FOR THE FOURTH ACT...PROVIDED YOU SURVIVE THE SPIDERS. YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF SPIDERS, ARE YOU?"

"I was when I was a kid. I got over it."

"GOOD. YOU SHOULD BE FINE THEN."

He comes over and, to my surprise, gives me a small embrace.

"I BELIEVE IN YOU, LYNSIE."

My throat tightens, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. He takes off and I wait for when he's out of sight to breakdown.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" screen cuts away. The human has been located. She appears to be on a different level and is a wreck. Down on her hands and knees, sobbing intangible pleas. Something has happened and it wasn't good.

Toriel gasps softly.

"tori? what's wrong?"

She covers her mouth and points. Sans sees it now. Papyrus even spies it before Grillby. The hands. The harsh imprints darkening the snow colored skin.

"Those marks...They would sometimes appear in her sleep. Why are they there now?"

Grillby shoots a look at Sans and he decides to get his buddy off his back.

"she had those marks while with us too. but if you look closely, these marks are different. there's no hole in the palm. plus...there are two sets."

"HMMM...AN AMBUSH PERHAPS? BUT WHAT KIND OF MAGIC CAN ALLOW FOR SUCH A SNEAK ATTACK AND THEN VANISH ELSEWHERE?"

Grillby continues to leer at Sans.

"what?"

"Sounds like teleporting to me. Anyone you know can do that?"

Sans glares.

"no. only i can teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"yeah. i'm sure. knock it off."

Papyrus cocks his brow. This might require his attention if things escalate.

"I'll knock it off when you come clean."

"i ain't hiding shit."

"Bullshit. You've been holding back so much that even your brother doesn't know just how much you do. If you don't know, then you don't know, but if one thing we've figured about you tonight...It's that you hide what you know all the damn time. So you've got to give us something better if you want us to believe you."

Sans balls his fist.

"us? or you? don't start connecting dots to points that don't exist because you want answers that no one can give to make yourself feel better."

"Then tell me who it was that hurt her before. Maybe they know who did it this time."

That line. That line got heads to turn.

"Sans? You know who has been harming my child?"

It's times like these Sans wished he was able to RESET.

"no, i don't."

"That's not what you told me."

"i only said what i did to get you off my back. ya were all upset about the marks and..."

"Of course I was upset about the marks! What guy wouldn't?!"

Papyrus snarkily lifts a finger, admitting his lack of concern but not wanting to get involved in this.

"maybe instead of pointing fingers, you should question why she didn't tell ya about'em herself. because if she doesn't even tell her mom about shit like this, what makes ya think she tells me?"

Grillby had to pause at that.

"Is it that one of them hurt you?"

"What?"

"You're ignoring them, but that doesn't make them invisible to anyone else. Did they do this? Papyrus I can believe, but I have doubts on Sans. But if they did this to you..."

"They didn't. This is a whole different issue."

"Don't defend your abuser."

"I'm not defending shit. It's my problem, I can deal with it. Don't make this a big deal."

"It is a big deal!"

"*wince* You're hurting me."

"..."

"Like I said...That's a different issue that I will deal with. Not you. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes."

Maybe Sans had a point. Knowing how others would react keeps one from talking about such things, especially when it's not a reaction that is easily dealt with. Toriel and Grillby have proven to overreact when it comes to the human. She probably thought it best to keep such pain to herself to avoid added damage. But still...Something didn't sit right with Grillby. Sans knew something. What it was he knew not.

"IF YOU'RE DONE WITH YOUR POINTLESS BICKERING, THE HUMAN IS ON THE MOVE NOW."

Attention once more fell back to the television.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3]

My body aches. The crying did little to ease me. Sure I vented, that's always good. But I don't feel any better for doing so. My arms stings. My soul throbs in agony. My every nerve demands relief that will never seem to come. I look at the bruises. I can still feel their hold. I don't know how long it happened for or how long after till I was found, yet I can still feel their filthy hands. It's too much. Make it stop!

I take my gloves off and dig my nails across the full stretch of my arms. I don't care about bleeding. I just want to stop feeling their hands. The strange energy begins to crackle around me as it did once before.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

It...It finally went away. That's good. Now if only the memory could be removed. Can't claw my brain unfortunately. Oh well. Perhaps I'll find something to bash my head against. Won't that be fun?

I take my leave. Flesh under my now gloved nails and blood trickling down my arms, making a trail behind me.

A few short steps have me in a more inhabited spot. The monsters here give me strange looks. Maybe it's because of the self-mutilation. Or maybe it was spine chilling wailing. Or both. Or random other shit. Either way, I keep to myself and press onward.

"Oh, yoohoo, human~..."

Ah, fuck my life with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole!

"You look like you can use some healing items. Come, I don't bite...well...maybe ONE little nibble~."

...Why do I attract the kinky weirdos?!

This is the spider-lady Mettaton was talking about. She has periwinkle or lavender skin, five eyes, six arms, and two legs. She wears red rompers with yellow buttons in the front, a red ribbon across her chest, as well as large wild twin pigtails in her black hair tied by red bows. She is also holding two teacups with her top pair of hands and two teapots with her middle pair, her bottom pair of hands hide under her little table.

"Welcome to our parlor, dearie~. Interested in some spider pastries? All proceeds go to real spiders~. Check out the webs to make a purchase~."

I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Ms. Spider..."

"No need for formalities, dearie~. Call me Muffet."

"Muffet...I'm gonna be nice yet blunt. So I apologize in advance if I tick you off at any point because that's not my intent. *shaky inhale* I have been battered, beaten, abducted, blasted, and brought near death more than usual today. And normally, I'd roll with it and let you do this 'thing' it is you're gonna do...But not now."

She opens her mouth to speak and I slam my hands on the tabletop.

"I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me. So, please...Not now."

I can feel that energy get stronger. The odd display bugs her yet she continues.

"My, how dreadful. That's a terrible tale you tell, human. And such a silly one to explain your disappearing act."

My eye twitches. Does she...Does she think I made that up?

"That Mettaton is certainly putting more effort into his effects for this show. It's about time too. That metal moron can't act to save his batteries."

I want to hit her.

"Anyway...Can I interest you in some of my 100% all-natural treats? Food made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders!"

...Wait a second?

"Of spiders? So...You're killing your own kind...for pastries?"

She simply smiles innocently.

"...Are they at least dead or dying ones?"

Her giggle is not reassuring.

"Go on, dearie~. Have a nice donut and wash it down with some cider. You'll heal faster than ever before. And all for the low low price of 9999G...each."

My nerves are shot. Were they always called donuts and not doughnuts? What the fuck?!

"Lady, that is the biggest crock of shit I have ever had the misfortune to step in."

All of her eyes glare at me.

"Beg your pardon?"

"This same 'bake sale' is being done by the spiders in the Ruins. Do you wanna know what the prices are there? Donuts are 7G and Ciders are 18G. Where the hell do you get off charging that much for food that works on cannibalism?"

I point at her in judgment.

"You're sick, lady! This is fucked up."

She hisses at me.

"Seems humans are awfully stingy with money. Don't know a good deal when it's in their face."

I look at her cockeyed.

"Stingy with money? Bitch, did you not hear the words coming out of my mouth?!"

She laughs in my face.

"Ahuhuhuhu...You think your taste is too refined for our pastries, don't you, deary?"

"...Sure. Whatever. You're not listening anyway."

"Ahuhuhu...I disagree with that notion. I think your taste...Is exactly what this next batch needs!"

She stares at me creepily and licks her lips.

"Oh hell nah!"

I flip the table on her and run. She's not happy.

"Get back here!"

"Fuck you!"

I look back to see if she's following and crash into a guy.

"Hey, watch where you're going."

"Sorry. I was just..."

My blood runs cold seeing the monster I've bumped. This guy...This guy is a dead ringer for the creepy gray dude with the face in his hand. The only difference being he's in color.

"*scoff* Weirdo."

He walks to where Muffet is but I can't move. My heart begins pounding. Flashes of memory play before my eyes. I can't breathe fast enough. Gaster, for all the shit he does, isn't as bad as the Followers.

MAKE IT STOP! M̴A͝KÉ IT͜ S͢T͡O͜P!!͘ MA̡̛͜K̶͢E͝ ̢I̡͝T̡҉̧ ́͠S̷͡T͝OP̵!!̛͏! M̢̡A̸̧̛͞͝K̢̨҉É̶̡̢͏ ͜͝͡I̸̧̨̕T̴ ̶̕͞S͜͢T̵͡Ǫ͝҉҉҉P̨̛͞!̶!̕͘͟!̷̨͟͝͡!̕͟

[WARNING]

[SOUL destabilization detected]

[HEARTBREAK immanent]

W͏ai̕t̸.̀.̢.̸Wha̧t doe̴s̛ t̨ha͝t ̨meàn̶?͡

[HEARTBREAK is the condition in which the SOUL will damage itself due to instability or loss of HOPE]

[There are three levels of the HEARTBREAK condition]

[Level ONE: the SOUL forms a crack, it starts small which can be healed easily]

[Level TWO: the crack on the SOUL spreads, damage taken is increased and needs intensive care to be repaired]

[Level THREE: the SOUL shatters and death accrues]

...Serious?

[Current status: PENDING HEARTBREAK]

[PENDING HEARTBREAK: the SOUL weakens and its color dulls]

[Most MONSTERS in the UNDERGROUND have this state due to a loss of HOPE which is the main trait in MONSTER SOULS]

So...I can die from my soul hurting itself because of my inability to cope with the shit that happened?

[Correct]

...Fuck. Well...I should make a last will. Because I'm gonna die.

*STATIC* DARLING? ARE YOU OKAY? YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING.

Mettaton's voice in my ear causes the shackles of trauma to release me...for now.

I slap myself. Gotta focus. Do this and get to go home. Concentrate. Don't fuck up! The energy around me slowly dissipates.

"Human!"

Looking back I see Muffet coming at me.

"Someone's stealing from the register!"

Her concern for money outweighs her need to kill me and I use this to escape. Much to my annoyance, this part of the path ends with more of those damn vents and they of course split off into three ways, one being a big as hell closed door.

"...I fucking hate Hotland."

I sigh. Taking in the vent platforms and noting that the gap between them is the smallest size ever. No need to run, jump, or use them. I merely walk onto the next platform and can do so for all of them. I choose to take the right side first. Why not? Not like it makes a difference. It leads me to a conveyor belt that has three blue lasers. I ride it to the end without harm. I guess Metta's budget for puzzles is running low if this is what I have to deal with. This leads me to a familiar room with, what a surprise, the same shooting puzzle from the last time I had to unlock a big fucking door.

"Now this is just lazy."

I look for the instructions.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

Well...Maybe that's something.

This puzzle has the blocks in a four by five state. Eleven blocks are solid and four can be moved around. The four moving blocks move all at once like they're connected. The open spaces are pretty fair if I have to give it some credit. I move to the right, up, right, down twice, right twice, down, left, down, and finally end it by firing through the clear path.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"Don't tell me it's the same on the other side."

I head out and take the other conveyor belt back to the vents, passing a random cactus in the process. I swear if this shit keeps up I'm going to lose my mind. No! No...I need to calm down and relax. I don't need the stress. My soul is in rough shape as is. Now it's at risk of damage without my conscious input. I wish I had my music. That would really help. Maybe a little Green Day or Linkin Park. Oh! My Chemical Romance!

*BONK*

It would seem I didn't pay attention and walked into the puzzle room, kicking the machine by accident.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

"God dingle damn it bull honkery."

I hate copy & paste design. The board is larger, five by five. Ten solid blocks and six movable ones, everything else is empty space. Right, up, right, down twice, right, right/up, up/right, up twice, right, up, and fire.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"...I'm so sick of this crap it ain't even funny."

I shove my hands in my pockets and leave...only to see two diamond-headed monsters just hanging out, one light-purple and the other a super light-green. Did I really walk by them?

"I've been thinking about getting a sick skateboard."

"Really? That's cool I guess. ...So...What's your fave Mettaton Moment(TM)?"

"My fave Mettaton Moment(TM)? Right when everything looks the baddest, he poses dramatically. Like when he's on a cooking show and the eggs don't turn out right. But! Then he says...Even if you suck at cooking, you can always buy an MTT-brand Glamburger! Then he eats one! Everyone loves it!"

"...How does he eat it without a mouth?"

"Uhhh...well...Watch the show!"

"Well, my fave Mettaton Moment(TM) is when he beats up the heel-turning villains! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a quiz show. Oh! And I like when he tries on all kinds of different fashionable outfits! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a newscast."

I wonder if I can get a chuckle out of these two.

"Sounds like you two really know your stuff about Mettaton."

They turn to look at me, they look like teenagers based on their clothes.

"Totally."

"No one's a bigger fan than us."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! He's currently broadcasting live. And with a Human! We can finally get to the surface!"

"On the surface, we'll be able to watch all kinds of TV...But, I bet none of those shows are as good as Mettaton's!"

"You don't say. Then...Could you describe this human? I don't want to miss seeing it."

The green one goes for his phone.

"Let me see if it's back on and we'll show you. Some crazy stuff happened and the feed cut off a bit ago."

I smile and wait for it. I can't read their faces, but it's very clear when the green one goes to his buddy and shows him the screen. Looks are shot at me. I merely give a friendly wave.

"Dude..."

"We're on TV!"

At least someone's happy about it.

"Wait...Then that means..."

"You're the human?"

I shrug.

"What...What happened to you?"

"You're like all messed up and junk."

I shrug again.

"You know...Messed up crud. Being human ain't all that and or fun. But don't worry about it. Just enjoy the show. Metta's doing his best to make it epic as hell."

I walk past them.

"Oh! Before I go...Don't copy any of the stuff aired at home. You'd probably get in trouble if you blast people for getting trivia wrong or use chainsaws while cooking."

I give a thumbs-up as I go. Vaguely hoping to look badass. With the door open it shouldn't be long till all this nonsense is over and I can go home. I wonder though...Can Flowey get up here? The floor is artificial, so I don't know if he can traverse it. I hope he's okay. Poor fella's probably losing his mind wondering where I went. Then again, he's a clever cookie and knows his way around the Underground better than anyone.

[The smell of cobwebs fills the air...]

Huh?

*sniff*

"What smells like freshly baked tarantulas?"

...Oh shit.

The room past the door is littered with webbing and spiders are dangling from the ceiling.

"...Fuck my life."

Smelling a trap I attempt to get through this room as fast as I can. But the webbing on the floor accumulates on my shoes and eventually, I'm unable to take a step. Struggling only made things worse.

"Ahuhuhuhu..."

Damn it! Damn it all to hell!!

"Did you hear what they just said? They said a human in tacky clothes will come through."

"Well, fuck you too."

"I heard that they hate spiders."

"What?!"

"I heard that they love to stomp on them."

"That is a bald-faced lie!"

"I heard that they like to tear their legs off."

"Slander! The levels of bullshit in here are off the charts!"

"I heard..."

Muffet comes down like a Charlotte's Web reject onto a large web. Smaller spiders dangle beside her and block the path ahead as well as behind me.

"...that they're incredibly stingy with their money. Ahuhuhuhu."

My fucks are all gone.

"You're mom was a hoe and ate your dad."

Her face blanks before burning with rage.

"You're fucking dead meat!"

[SPIDER DANCE begins to play in the background.]

My dull yellow soul comes out.

[Muffet traps you!]

"Oh, like this is fair. I can't move and you bring out a freaking gang. I mean, what are the damn rule anymore?!"

"Oh don't look so blue, my deary~."

She spins silk to entangle my soul then bites the end of a strand, her magic venom flows down the strand and coats the heart. Forcibly changing the trait and color.

"...I think purple is a better look on you! Ahuhuhu~."

This feels so wrong.

"Why is everyone messing with my soul today?!"

Her spider underlings draw webbing in strings in horizontal lines. These lines are also infused with the purple magic and attract my soul.

[You're trapped in a strange purple web!]

"Here's the deal, dearie~...A spider will appear to the right between each turn, holding a sign that presents the density and type of attack that will come after your turn. Now while you can't move, your pretty little soul can, and you'll have to move it along or switch between the three strings to avoid attacks. There will only be three strings. No more, no less. How's that for fair~?"

I mull it over.

"...Not bad actually. Who goes first?"

"You. I want to see what you can do."

She's a smart one, I'll give her that. Let's see my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That button is giving me weird vibes the more I see it.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[STRUGGLE]

[PAY 10G]

Pay? Fuck that! I earned this gold. Mine!

[CHECK selected.]

[MUFFET – HP: 1250 ATK: 38.8 DEF: 18.8 – If she invites you to her parlor, excuse yourself.]

And she's better in the stat department than the butterdragon.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. The hell does that mean?

"Why so pale? You should be proud~."

"With the amount of blood I've lost today it would make me look like a corpse. But be proud of what?"

"Why...Proud that you're going to make a delicious cake~! Ahuhuhu~!"

Spiders begin crawling across the threads. It's like a weird form of Frogger minus hopping to safety. It's a simple move and I come out of it fine.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Sweet, my HP is full. I love this nasty apron!

[All the spiders clap along to the music.]

It is a catchy tune, no lie. But I need to get out of this. It's not like all of me is unable to move.

[ACT selected.]

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet covers her mouth and giggles at you.]

...Bitch.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. Okay, I know what that means now.

"Look at you. Trying to break free. It's so cute~."

"Would it help if I asked nicely? Please let me go?"

"Let you go? Don't be silly~. Your SOUL is going to make every spider very happy~~!"

Spiders cross the lines and it oddly seems like there was less this time. Making it easier.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet does a synchronized dance with the other spiders.]

"You know...Someone warned us about you...Offered us a LOT of money for your SOUL."

This gets my attention.

"What?"

"Oh yes~. They had such a sweet smile~ and...Ahuhuhu~. It's strange, but I swore I saw them in the shadows...Changing shape...?"

The hell? Wait...She can't mean one of the Followers...Can she? Stop it! Don't think about them! Don't!

"Oh well. It's not like it matters anyway. Your move, dearie~."

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet laughs and claps her hands.]

"Still trying, huh? Still thing. Don't you know spider silk is five times stronger than steel?"

I can not get a break today.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of two spiders. What?

Double the spiders come on the strings at the same time. It's somehow a new move yet works too similar to the normal attack to be tricky. I dodge it fairly well.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet pours herself a cup of spiders.]

...I didn't need to see that. No one needs to see a large spider drink smaller spiders like they were tea.

"*sip* With the money from you SOUL, the spider clans can finally be reunited~."

I tilt my head.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? Spiders have been trapped in the RUINS for generations!"

Obvious thing is obvious.

"Can't they, you know, squeeze out through the door?"

"*scoff* Even if they go under the door, Snowdin's fatal cold is impassable alone."

It is pretty cold there. Then they'd have to travel through two zones to get here. Damn, that sucks.

"But with the money from your SOUL, we'll be able to rent them a heated limo~. And with all of the leftovers...? We could have a nice vacation~! Or even build a spider baseball field~!"

What little sympathy I was gaining dies at that.

"Now you're just spending to show off."

"But enough of that...It's time for dinner, isn't it? Ahuhuhu~."

*Growls*

I look around and see nothing. I don't like this.

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Nothing happened.]

"Don't struggle too much. You'll make yourself all sweaty. No one wants a sweaty donut."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider and a donut?

The spiders come crawling faster than before even if their numbers aren't as much, then they are followed by random donuts being thrown by the spiders blocking the pathways. This almost had me. Came close, but no cigar.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm proud of my dodging skills. I've come a long way.

[Muffet tidies up the web around you.]

If you don't like crumbs, don't throw food. It's very simple.

*Growls*

There's that sound again. I really don't like it. Muffet does though.

"You look concerned."

"Are you saying you don't hear the growling?"

She giggles.

"Oh, how rude of me! I almost forgot to introduce you to my pet~."

I'm puzzled. What kind of pet does a spider have?

"Oh, my pet~...Looks like it's time for dessert~."

I can hear rapid heavy skittering. Not good! Not good!

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet is so amused by your antics that she gives you a discount!]

"Tell you what...If you survive my pet, I just might consider sparing you."

"R-Really? That might actually be the f...Holy fucking shit!!"

*Roar*

An abomination appears. A hideous cupcake spider thing emerges from the webs.

"What the fuck is that thing?!"

"This is my pet. Have fun, you two~."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a cupcake. I don't like this at all!

So many spiders speed by in an unchanging pattern of fear and with good reason. The freaky food beast climbs down and begins eating the strings, pulling my soul towards its hungry maw. This causes spiders that were already on their way to fall prey to this creature as I desperately do my best to not get hit or be dragged to what I assume is instant death. But I'm too panicked to be perfect in my dodging.

[HP ████ 4/40]

Six...I took six hits. I'm gonna die.

[Your soul can't take much more of this.]

No? Really?! Like I couldn't fucking tell!

"You're still alive? Ahuhuhu~...That's impressive~."

She calls her pet to her side.

"Got way too worked up...*gag* I think...*gag* I think I'm gonna puke. *hic*"

"...Please don't. Do you know how hard vomit is to clean out of webbing?"

I take a moment to settle down.

"*sigh* Don't lie...Spiders eat their webbing when it gets messed up."

She cringes.

"Yeah...I don't know everything about spiders. But I do know random gross stuff like that."

I shake off the impending dizziness.

"So...Are you going to spare me?"

She thinks for a moment.

"I will..."

Maybe there is a god?

"For the small fee of 500G~."

Nope. God's dead.

"Are you kidding me?! I'm fucking broke! "

I ain't telling her I have money.

"Then I guess we're going to be spending more quality time together, dearie~ I do hope you're feeling comfortable trapped in that web. Ahuhuhuhu~! Because I don't mind keeping you here for as long as it takes~!"

Damn it. I don't have time for this crap. Wait a second...Time? Heh...This gives me an idea.

"Say, Muffet...Who's watching your bake sale stand while you're here?"

She folds her upper arms.

"A loyal family member. Why do you ask?"

I chuckle softly.

"Oh, no reason. Just checking."

Her eyes cock.

"Checking?"

"Well, we've been here a long time. At least, you have because you got here before me. And we're far from your stand too. It would be a real shame if someone took your 'donations' while this fight was happening."

She sneers.

"Dearie, you're not going to fool me again with that trick. No one would dare steal from me."

I smirk.

"That's the thing...It's not YOU they'd stealing from now is it? It's some other weaker spider."

Her expression gains some worry.

"Even if that spider is loyal, can you honestly say it can defend the money if, let's say, a group stormed the table?"

Concern crosses her face and her pet nudges her as it picks up the vibes.

"Then...Then I'll kill you quickly and return before some fool even tries!"

I shake my head at her.

"Yeah, that would be a thing you could do. But...You can't."

"Wha...What do you mean I can't? You have four HP left! One more hit and your SOUL is mine!"

I put my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels.

"True. So very true. Yet...It's not your turn."

Her eyes widen, finally picking up on my little plan.

"Here's the thing...I've been in enough fights to understand how they work. It all functions on a turn-based system. It's a very fair means of doing combat. No one can attack at random, only when it's their turn. Heh...But the kicker is, and I think you know where I'm going with this...There's no time limit on turns. So if I want to...as long as I don't do anything...my turn will never end. And we'll be stuck here, locked like this...forever!"

Now it's her turn to feel panic.

"You're bluffing."

I grin.

"How much are you willing to bet on that? Because I wager your clan won't take losing all their hard-earned gold due to your negligence very well. They may think a new leader is needed if that happens."

I yawn and stretch to get cozy, showing I'm more than willing to stay put. She twitches with nervousness.

"So tell us, Muffet...What's it gonna be?"

Based on my understanding of Muffet, she's a greedy, stingy, intimidating, malicious, and somehow hypocritical monster, although having a courteous and sweet way of speaking. She won't stay. The odds don't favor her.

Her pet looks at her, the spiders turn to her, the pressure is almost visible as it smothers her. She balls her six fists and stomps her foot in a fit.

"Fine! I'll SPARE you!"

"For free?"

She grinds her teeth.

"Yes, for free! Just quit stalling and confirm it!"

[Muffet is sparing you and refuses your money.]

I can be super evil when I have the chance.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 0 gold.]

The webbing around my soul dissolves. As does the stuff around my feet. My soul turns a dull orange and returns to my body.

"There, you're free. Now get lost!"

"I'm glad we could have such a fun time together, dear."

She snarls and hops onto her pet.

"Next time, you won't get away so easily."

"And maybe next time you'll be paying me for my amazing entertainment skills."

I think channeled Mettaton for a moment. She bites back some harsh unladylike remarks and rides off. I look at the spiders that block my way out.

"Move...please."

They're hesitant but do so.

"Thank you."

I take a few steps but stop near them, pulling out a small handful of gold.

"I don't know if what she said was true, but...here."

I put the gold on the ground and take my leave, pulling a bottle of cider from my inventory to heal.

"Consider it an addition to the amount I've already paid in the Ruins."

The spiders are confused but I hear them take the gold. I can be evil, yes. But it's not true to my nature. I drink the whole bottle as I enter a new, hopefully lacking in spiders, area.

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Not bad. I'll fully heal up soon. This new area appears to have the same material as the Ruins. I'm getting homesick. I miss Toriel. I miss Flowey. I miss my bed. I want to go home.

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.