#sometimes the fun is the intrusive thoughts we thought all along

[thegayneurodivergentagenda]

Snippets (by Multiple Artists) × Bad Buddy The Series

1. Home (by Catie Turner) × Bad Buddy The Series

I don't take spoonfuls of romanticism in my tea

But this is not a love song

It's my truth I have to speak

Oh, you are so important to me

And I won't let you go

I won't let you go

'Cause wherever you are is home

So won't you please come home?

2. Mastermind (by Taylor Swift) × Bad Buddy The Series

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

This this the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear, I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care

I laid the groundwork

and then saw a wide smirk on your face,

you knew the entire time

You knew that I'm a mastermind

And now you're mine

3. For @desi-yearning , Maaeri (by Euphoria) × Bad Buddy The Series

[Translated from Punjabi to English ]

[teriya meriya, bhull gaya

bhull gaya, haar te jeet]

I've forgotten what's his or mine,

Forgotten who lost or won,

[hey mae, ki karna mein jeet nu

hove naa je meet, hove naje meet]

Mom, what good is this victory?

if there are no friends, if there is no friend.

4. Something Great (by One Direction) × Bad Buddy The Series

(PRAN)

You're all I want, So much it's hurting.

(PAT)

You're all I want, So much it's hurting.

Snippets Episode of BadBuddy× my Playlist because sometimes not all of the song fits, but some of it does, phenomenally, and I need it to be acknowledged.

BadBuddy× my Playlist 7/n

Crack!edit

You're all I want, So much, it's hurting.

[moth-nana]

Christmas invite

Hanma Shuji x gn!reader

Summary: Inviting him to your house for Christmas by your parents reguest.

A Cristmas short for the Christmas lovers!

Words: 739

You and Shuji had been dating for five months now and you had finally mentioned him to your parents.

Your parents were so excited for you to finally have a significant other so they instantly told you to bring him as a plus one to the family Christmas. You were nervous since you knew that your relatives could be sometimes really intrusive with their questions.

“You should really invite him.” Your mom tried to get you to agree and your dad was nodding his head. 

“I don’t know if you will like him, though…” You mumbled before your mom gave you that ‘mom knows better’ look. 

“I think we are the judges of that.” she stated as she pointed at her and your dad. “If he is not good for you we will kick him out.” Your dad added and you gave him a nervous look. “We are good as long as he is not some kind of trouble maker.” He added. You gave them a nervous smile. 

———

“Fuck this.” You mumble as you watch Shuji talking to some of his friends and Kisaki.

You were seriously doubting if you should ask him to spend Christmas at your house. It wasn’t like you two had been dating that long and he hadn’t even met your parents before. You had sneaked him into your room at the start of your relationship but he never had entered the house from the front door nor been found out by anyone at your house.

You see how Kisaki Tetta made his way from Shuji towards the nearest convenience store. Shuji turned towards you and flashed you something between a smirk and a smile before starting to walk towards you.

“You seem to be in your thoughts.” He stated before adding “Am I that good looking~” 

You gave him a side eye before a sight left your lips. “I needed to ask you if you would like to spend your Christmas at my place with my family.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke but you could feel how his lips had curved into a smirk.

“Is my darling finally going to introduce me to their family?” He tased and leaned his head on top of yours.

You huffed before moving so you could look him into the eyes.

“My parents insisted on me asking you,” You tell him, not breaking eye contact with him before continuing. “The worst is that it’s not just me and my parents but also some of our relatives.”

He chuckled. “That would be my pleasure, darling. I promise they will love me.” He joked with a smirk on his face before pecking your forehead. 

“The last thing that they said was and i quote ‘we are good as long as he is not a troublemaker.’” You huff. “And that is something I know you can’t hide at all.” 

“Would it be so bad if they would see how wonderful your secret boyfriend is?~”

“I know you would lose it, at least, with my grandfather if not the others.” You were giving him a stern look. 

“But now that I have been invited by your parents I will attend~”

———

“And then they pulled Santa Claus's fake beard off his face to prove a point!” Your grandpa was telling Shuji how you pulled Santa Claus’s beard off when you were six to prove that he was the fake one since you had seen him get out of a gray car as you were watching from the window ten minutes before. 

“And then they threw it into the ground and started to cry because it wasn’t the real Santa!” 

You could admit that you were entirely wrong when you thought that your grandpa would not like Shuji. Your grandpa seemed to love Shuji even though your dad looked like he wasn’t pleased by him. As soon as your dad saw that he had tattoos on his hands he turned to look at you with narrow eyes before giving Shuji a tight handshake.

But it was a good Christmas and one of the most memorable of them all. Shuji got along with your grandpa and most of your cousins and that was all that mattered. You all had fun.

"Shuji, I love you." was the last thing you said to him that night and ended up having a make out session at the front steps of your parents house.

a/n: I haven't been posting anything in a while and I'm sorry about that. School has been taking a lot of time but now I have been having more time to write🙏😌

[sakurabutterflyart]

Floyd X Classical Troll Fem Reader

(As a person who enjoyed classical music or just a fan of violin. I've also been to a choir, which is totally a classical and different to singing pop. I base it a little of my experience.

But disclaimer. I still lack Classical music knowledge.  But I do write fanfictions for fun and wonder what happens when Pop and Classical music comes together.

Im no professional writer, English is not my first language either. This just happen to be one of my intrusive thoughts that needs to be written.)

My name is (Y/N), I've been living in Trollstopia since the beginning.  My family along with my fellow classical trolls just wanted to be open to new cultures, which is why we decided to move here.

Being a Classical Troll means I have to be professional all the time and a perfectionist, cause that's how my parents taught me about classical music.

So I followed the rules.  Even though I love music, sometimes I get sick of it. Like there's something wrong about it.

But then I met him... Floyd

Classical Trolls are so strict. That I was never used to be treated gently by someone that I never knew I needed.  Floyd makes my heart go softer, which honestly kinda scares me sometimes.

When I met him, I just happen to run into him. When he got lost in Trollstopia,  while visiting his brother Branch. He heard my violin playing. I actually heard a catchy pop song that is mixed with country from this song writer named Taylor Swift and surprisingly also a classical rock guitar from a rock Troll named Demo.

That I decided to play a pop song on that day after getting scolded by my conductor,  that I wanted to be left alone. I was a disappointment to my fellow classical trolls despite being the daughter of the Great Classical Troll. I was always told that I was the most difficult one to teach, like I was tone-deaf or something.

Being in a prestigious group is a lot of pressure already. Being there is so suffocating, traumatizing in fact from the way I get startled when I get scolded by everyone.  That I needed to go out and have time to enjoy music on my own. I played my violin with a famous Taylor swift music called Enchanted, also tried singing it after playing it. Trying to turn it into a classical version. I'm already a disappointment anyways, so what's the harm of singing a pop rock country song?

"Woah, you have a beautiful voice there miss." I was startled and almost had a heart attack,  when I turned around I spotted a Pop Troll. He must be from Pop village. "I like your version of that song that I just needed to see who played it."

I felt my face heating from embarrassment. I'm suppose to yell at him for scaring me, but instead I felt a chuckle escape from my throat of his comment. I was flattered, but of course I brushed it off by saying, "Nah I'm just messing around,  I hit the wrong notes."

Then I heard him giggled along and sat right next to me.

"Well to me your voice is beautiful.  Just like what me and my brother said about being in harmony.  We don't have to be perfect to be in harmony, we just have to be as we are."

"Hah! Really?" I scoffed, cause the #1 rule of being a Classical Troll is to make it perfect as possible.

"Really,  why else would me and my brothers manage to hit the family harmony and rescued me from a diamond prison? "

I stared at him wide eyed, a few seconds later I gasped. 

"No..." I whispered in amazement. He giggled at my reaction.

"Yes."

"NOOO..."

"YES."

"YOU'RE FROM BROZONE?! "

"YES!"

💛💛💛

With that we talked and talked, eventually became friends. Surprisingly,  we easily connected like we've known each other for a long time, despite our differences in culture.

At first it was pure respect and amazement. For being in Brozone who achieved the family harmony after a long time in history.

Our meetings became frequent, it's no longer as fellow musician, but as friends. I learned his name was Floyd. Being with Floyd, makes me feel safe. I have great sense of comfort around him.  I enjoyed spending time with him. That I myself surprisingly willing to go to parties on Pop Village just to see him.

Whenever i feel down and pressured from classical music. He knew exactly how to encourage me and keep my confidence up, even helped me hit the right notes by harmonizing with him. And as expected... his VERY gifted!

I've never felt such connection with anyone nor felt understood and comforted of my entire life. He made me laugh... and even cry at the same time from joy, which is very strange...

💛💛💛 A month passed by...

In a blink, it was just another day of our regular practice. But I was shocked that my conductor was more harsh than usual. Not only did he embarrassed me in front of my fellow choir mates,  he say cruel words that I will never become better nor do I belong there, that I'm better off not being in their group.

That I snapped and walk out from that suffocating rehearsal room.

I was really feeling thorn that even Floyd noticed.  That I was crying the whole night, that I'm pretty sure that my puffy eyes is still not gone. All the hardwork and time I gave, to only find out that I was never welcomed there to begin with.

That Floyd decided to drag me out of my pod, after being trapped there for almost a week. It was sunset, so the heat of the summer is gone that its a perfect time to have a picnic near the sea.

He decided to lay me down and relax, in this beautiful scenery . He brought my favorite snacks, the books we enjoyed together,  along with our favorite classical pop song that we've made together. As he continue to comfort me with his words and laughing along with his funny stories about his brothers.

We ended up in silence, enjoying the fresh breeze of wind. I was trapped in my room for a long time, that I didn't realized that there's a good spot to forget what happened.

I turned around to see Floyd facing me, eyes shut. I lay closer to him, running my fingers through his smooth red hair, causing him to wake up.

We ended up staring into each other in silence,  but a comfortable one. Without even thinking, I was caressing his cheeks. Feeling my heart beat wildly. I can feel his hands holding mine from where I held his face. He slid it down to my arms, caressing it too.

At that moment. Both of us were not thinking, but before we even knew it. I can feel the warmth of his lips unto mine. And it felt great. He then pushed me down towards the ground,  he was on top of me. Continue tasting my lips, with his palms pinning my wrist against the floor.

I was having a terrible week,  but never would've thought that it'll also be one of the best one. Where I can finally get to hold him this close and closer than ever before.

"I love you... Y/N." He whispered and continue to trail kisses unto my neck.

💛💛💛

A/N: What? Floyd being the bottom is getting cliche to all Floyd X reader I've read, him being bold is surprisingly good too hehe. I guess John Dory also mistaken his role to be the sensitive one. Almost.

[bubuslutty]

Day 6: you wanna be the Queencard?

this is part 6, all parts

pairing: angel/demon!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.5k

tags: fluff, poor attempt at humour (help), no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: none

summary: Price notices changes + Angel invites Soap to hang out <3

a/n: special thanks to my first ever beta reader @whore4dilfs! Feedback means lots to me and gives me boosts of motivation <3 

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter/serie, means lots 💖

the title of this part is taken from this song.

Price wasn't stupid. He has eyes and can notice when people slowly start to change.

Since they have moved into the little home in London for work under Laswell’s watchful eyes, their new neighbour has been nothing but a pleasant surprise. At first, it was fun you know? Oh look, we have a hot neighbour and she’s nice! Angel would sometimes be talked about when they were having dinner, the men casually talking about how her cat almost ruined her flowers and she shouted at her. Or how last Saturday she almost tripped and fell face first when taking out the trash, or how she gets her laundry from the garden wearing nothing but a stupid t-shirt and pair of underwear.

Price is a gentleman, he tries his best not to stare, not to let his eyes linger on her when she’s out and about or greets him when he’s smoking in the garden. But she’s so fucking pretty, it’s frustrating at this point, how she manages to make his breath stutter every time he sees her. She could be wearing an old Minnie Mouse t-shirt, a pair of shorts and yellow Crocs with gardening gloves, dirty and sweating under the sun and digging up weeds and Price would always get caught staring at her, his cigar forgotten between his fingers.

He feels like a teenager all over again. He’s not a virgin for fuck sake. And he had his fair share of hookups here and there along with (failed) relationships. But he still catches himself staring at her lips when she’s laughing at something Soap said, throwing her head back and screeching with laughter. And she seems to not mind his men’s antics, either.

She doesn’t ask about their scars, doesn’t comment on Ghost's clothing choices or how he wears a mask 24/7 and never asks why she should call him Ghost either. She never asked them intrusive questions, not even when they were comfortable, bellies full of wine and warm under the sun on random afternoons. Angel hasn’t made any of his men or himself uncomfortable, not even once, and that’s terrifying because it’s so easy to get comfortable and open with her. It makes him want to talk about things he only keeps to himself. She makes him want to sit and ramble about what he’d do once he’s old and retired, maybe he’ll buy a boat, or a house up north, or move to Spain or to Morocco.

One fine Tuesday, Price was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone while Gaz was curled up next to him, reading a random webcomic on his phone when their doorbell rang.

Gaz frowned, looking up at Price, "Are we expecting someone, today?" 

"No." Price shook his head. 

"I'll get it!" Soap exclaimed, skipping 3 steps and jumping down the stairs, wearing a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts with little dog-printed socks. Initially, Soap thought it must be one of his packages that came earlier than expected, but once he opened the door he realised it wasn't the mailman but their hot neighbour. 

And she was absolutely soaked from head to toe, it was raining so hard outside that Soap accidentally got rain inside their house, wetting the floor under his feet

"I locked myself out. Can I please come in until the rain stops?" Angel asked, embarrassed and hair sticking to her neck and face. 

"Holy shit, yeah, of course!" Soap quickly moved to the side, allowing her to step inside their warm house and locked the door behind her. 

Angel stood there awkwardly, her clothes sticking to her skin as she shivered and looked at Soap with her wet eyelashes clumped together.

"What the hell happened to you?" Price said as soon as he saw her, sitting up properly.

"Got rained on, and uhm, I locked myself out," Angel said, squirming with embarrassment, her hands clutching the ends of her short skirt.

"Jesus…" He sighed and stood up, "Gaz, get her something to change into, and Soap, give her a towel and show her to the bathroom."

"You don't have to!" Angel quickly said, still dripping water next to their door, refusing to take a step in any direction. 

Price gave her an unimpressed look, "Really? You're dripping water all over the floor and you'll get sick." 

Angel pursed her lips and watched Price walk to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and preparing ginger tea for her.

Soap brought her a big towel, to wrap herself into and get to the bathroom, where Gaz handed her the smallest t-shirt he could find, a zip-up hoodie and a pair of shorts.

"I tried my best, I know none of this will fit but yeah-" Gaz mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and Angel smiled, shivering under the towel. 

"Thank you, Gaz." 

"No worries." He smiled and left her to change and dry up in the bathroom.

"Oh yeah," He stopped in his tracks and walked up to the bathroom's door, knocking twice, "Take a hot shower, you'll get warmer that way!" 

"Okay!" Angel said behind the door, wrestling with her wet skirt to pull it down.

. 

. 

. 

"Are you sure I need all of this?..." Angel asked, blowing on the mug containing the tea Price made her. 

"Angel, shut up." Price sighed, sitting next to her on the sofa. 

Angel was wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, wearing military-grade warm socks, with a warm water bottle placed behind her back and a big mug of tea in her hands. 

"Damn, alright…" Angel rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea, feeling it warm her body from the inside out.

Gaz sat down next to Price, curling up next to him and this time grabbing the remote control, looking for something to put in as background noise. 

Soap also came back down, but with Ghost this time, literally dragging him by the sleeve and making him sit down, curling next to him and throwing a leg over one of his ridiculously thick and strong thighs.

Angel noticed all of this but didn't say anything.

"So, how did ya lock yourself out?" Soap finally asked. 

"I was rushing and forgot my keys," Angel said, already annoyed at how she would need to call someone to unlock her door for her. 

"Went somewhere special? You looked nice." Soap said, making her smile. 

"Yeah, I went for coffee with a friend. And I bought a new ring!" She said and stuck out her hand to show him. 

Soap's eyes immediately sparkled with interest at the ring she showed him. Ghost glanced at him and at the silver ring she was showing him, and knew Johnny liked jewellery, especially silver.

Soap grabbed her hand and he leaned forward, "That's beautiful, where did you get it from?" 

The ring was silver with small pink and purple rocks on it, forming a little skull, obviously mimicking the tag on Kuromi's collar.

"This store is 20 minutes away from here by train! They have so many things and almost everything is unisex! I'll send you the address if you want?" Angel said, excited to be sharing something she found with him.

"I dinnae have your number though?" Soap realised. 

"Oh yeah," Angel was confused, with the number of times they've spoken and hung out, how come they don't have each other's numbers already?

"Alright, give me your number and I'll add you to our group chat so you can save their numbers as well, okay?" Soap said, taking out his phone and handing it to her. 

Angel typed in her number and saved her contact under 'Angel 👹'

When she handed him back his phone he snorted, "What type of emoji is that?"

"It's a demon!" She said with a grin and he laughed, shrugging it off.

The conversation was light and easy, they talked about random mundane things until Angel’s attention was stolen by the TV, she stared at the big screen with her mouth open and forgot to finish her sentence.

She snorted, and Gaz tilted his side to the side, “What’s up?”

“That’s you, John.” Angel pointed at the screen, where a big brown bear was napping under a tree on its back. Gaz and Soap started giggling like school girls at Price’s expression. Ghost on the other hand let out a small snort and pulled at the strings of his hoodie, trying to hide himself from his captain.

Price leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and squinting at the screen like an old man, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That’s literally exactly how you nap in the garden sometimes, and it’s cute!” Angel said, still laughing at his face.

“That’s not true, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, the sun must’ve messed up with your head.” He said, shrugging and refusing to meet her eyes.

“John, stop playing, it’s you!” Angel whined, shaking his arm and making Gaz laugh harder.

“If I’m that bear, you’re that one.” He said, pointing at the TV. Angel glanced at the TV and saw a small cub falling on its face and getting a mouthful of dirt. She gasped at his audacity, “No, I’m not!”

“I have seen you almost trip outside when taking out the trash, 3 times already.” Price teased her, looking at her with a small smirk.

“And you laugh at a lady instead of preserving her reputation? How dare you, John!” Angel said with a hand on her chest and falling back on Soap with a hand against her forehead.

“That is not a way to treat a proper lady, John. Apologise!” Soap said, lower lip dramatically wobbling and cradling her head in his arms. 

“I’ll think about it.” Price chuckled at their antics and Gaz gasped, “Oh my days, you’re actually the worst.” 

“And yet, you still love me.” Price sighed.

“Unfortunately.” Gaz rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on the Captain’s temple before standing up and walking to the kitchen, to get himself a snack.

.

.

.

“I think your clothes should be dry now,” Soap said, opening the tumble dryer’s door and watching Angel bend down to inspect her clothes.

“They are, thanks.” She grabbed the clothes and placed them on top of the dryer, closing the door with one hand.

Soap watched Angel fold her clothes in a neat pile and her skirt caught his attention. It was a pretty short brown pleated skirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to run his hand on the soft fabric. Angel stopped and stared at Soap’s entranced and focused face.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She smiled and he snapped back into reality, retrieving his hand to himself.

“What fabric is that?” He asked and Angel just stared at him, “I actually don’t know…”

“Wait, maybe it says on the tag inside.” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the skirt, flipping it inside out and frowning, when it was nowhere to be seen, “Oh shit, I must’ve removed it and forgot, sorry Soap.”

If there’s one thing Soap can tell you he likes about the woman, is that she dresses well. Her personal style is so cool and unique to him, every time she’s about to leave for work, he stops and admires her choice of clothes for the day. At first, it embarrassed him, how much he enjoys clothes and colours and fashion, but then it took years of working through internalised self-hatred for him to enjoy ‘womanly’ things without feeling like utter shit about it in the comfort of his own room. Thanks, Dad for the trauma <3

“If you want, I can try to figure out where I bought it from and buy you one? So we can match?” Angel asked, grinning and holding the skirt up in her hands.

Soap’s eyes widened a bit and he quickly spluttered, “No, you dinnae have to! Please, don’t bother.”

“You don’t like the skirt?” Angel’s smile fell.

“No, I do! It's just you dinnae have to bother buying me one, It won’t suit me.” He said, laughing and scratching his arm, no humour behind his laugh, if anything it was tainted with embarrassment and a hint of shame.

Angel’s eyes softened, “Soap, what makes you think it won’t suit you? Have you seen your thighs and tiny -excuse my language- slutty waist?”

Soap blushed bright red and barked out a laugh, “What the shite, Angel?!”

“It’s true! Don’t tell me Ghost has never told you this before?” Angel asked, tilting her head to the side.

Soap took a sharp inhale through his nose and slammed the door of the kitchen shut, “What makes you think he-”

“The man’s practically obsessed with your thighs, every time you sit next to him his hands glue themselves to them, especially when you’re wearing shorts. And I don’t even blame him, you have killer thighs. In my opinion, it’s a crime you have to wear trousers-” Angel said, waving her hands and the skirt around, and Soap almost died and closed her mouth with his palm before he could stop himself.

“Alright!”

“Hmm??” Angel hummed behind his palm, eyes wide.

“You want to buy me a skirt? Okay, just- just don’t–” Soap said, letting out a shaky breath and slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

Angel blinked up at him with big shiny eyes, feeling the borrowed shorts slowly slide down her hips. “Are you free next Wednesday?” She asked and quickly reached down the tie the short’s strings tighter to stop them from sliding down.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s play dress up at mine,” Angel said, grinning up at Soap.

“You want to-”

“Let’s hang out, and I’ll show you my jewellery collection,” Angel added with a small smirk, raising her brows.

Soap gaped at her like a fish, his mouth agape, and groaned, throwing his head back, “Fine, At what time?”

“How about 3 in the afternoon?”

“I’ll bring snacks.” Soap nodded, feeling an odd soup of excitement and anxiety brew in his stomach.

“Perfect, see you then, Soap.” Angel winked and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to place a kiss on his cheek and happily skipped out of the kitchen.

“PRICE, CAN YOU UNLOCK MY DOOR NOW, PLEASE?” He heard Angel call out in the living room and leaned against the tumble dryer, glancing down at his thighs in his shorts. He chuckled and shrugged, “I do have killer thighs.”

Outside in front of Angel’s front door, Price was squatting in front of the lock, picking at it with some tool Angel has never seen before she gasped when a small click was heard and Price pulled the doorknob down, opening it.

Price stood up and turned to her, “Here we go, now go look for those keys, to make sure they’re actually inside.”

Angel raised a brow, “Should I be worried you can unlock my doors?...” 

“No, why? Are you hiding something?” Price asked, with a hand on his hip, wearing a small smirk.

“Of course not.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leighh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @whore4dilfs

[tttovarichhh]

Die or fuck

And Rick Grimes has nowhere to run again. From Negan, from his responsibilities, from himself. From himself first and foremost.

"Eh Rick, well what am I supposed to do with you?"

Negan grins crookedly, arching his back, stretching. Rick is sickened by that grin, so catlike that it makes Grimes want to howl. Perhaps only dog-like behaviour can resist Negan's endless desire to break, to appropriate, after smiling sweetly, smashing another innocent's skull with a bat.

"I've given away more than half of what we have. Alexandria has to survive somehow too, we don't collect tribute from other settlements like some."

"Oh, I don't even know who we're talking about," Negan whispers, bending down to Grimes' ear. The whisper sends a wave of goosebumps through Rick's body and he cringes, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out of his head. The thoughts swarm beneath his skull, screaming for the lips that are so close they could bite in, licking away the blood.

No, Rick, hell no, get a grip.

"Rickii? I'm still here," Negan leans against the wall next to Grimes, literally backing Rick into a corner. He rests the bat on the shoulder of the man across from him and smiles again, running his tongue along the white row of teeth. And Rick gasps.

"What do you want from me?" Rick literally whispers on an exhale, hearing the voice betray him. Fuck.

"From you? Oh, Rick, I've already got quite a list assembled. Do you want it alphabetical or by date?"

Grimes feels queasy. He averts his eyes, examining the clock on the wall. Rick has never once seen it working - time had stopped in Alexandria even before Grimes' group showed up at the settlement and sometimes he really thinks, what if they'd never ended up here in the first place? What if Negan hadn't turned out to be an enemy, but a friend with whom they would have literally ripped off neighbouring villages together? No, that's impossible. At the very least, because Grimes has a concept of morals and principles, the bastard on the contrary doesn't.

"Yeah, Ricky, you're getting boring," the bat slides down his shoulder closer to his throat and Grimes feels the wire digging into his skin.

"I don't have time for fun. Especially when my men are being robbed."

"Rick, relax. I don't like boring people. They don't live much, especially around me."

Negan touches Grimes' chin with his fingers with a glove, slides cheekbone line, and then raises the man's head sharply to meet his eyes.

"And something has changed, hasn't it? In those eyes. And that's what I like."

"I don't understand," he tries to lower his gaze, but Negan won't let him, still holding him firmly by the chin.

"Oh, come on. Or am I affecting you so much that something in your head shuts off? Oh yeah, I can see it in your eyes. Ricky, Ricky Grimes, who would have thought you'd break down like that?"

"Enough."

Negan grins, pressing Grimes sharply against the wall in the very corner, gently sliding his fingers from his cheekbones down Rick's neck to the collar of his shirt.

"No, that's not how it works. Not with me. You know, it was on the list from the beginning, but I wanted to break you a little longer. But why, really? It's all clear enough."

"Negan, please," Rick whispers barely audible, closing his eyes and pressing his whole body into the wall. The very same swarm of thoughts is now buzzing in his head, crowding out all other thoughts, especially the remnants of sanity.

"Die or fuck. You don't have a choice. No, there is a choice - me or Lucille drinking your blood."

And Rick surrenders. To Negan and to himself, to his vows and beliefs and confessions. Rick surrenders, pitching forward, touching his lips to Negan's, cursing himself for this weakness. His heart repeats the dead loop from the Independence Day airshow he loved to watch with Carl, travelling to another state on purpose. Right now, Grimes is the same plane pilot who makes the fatal mistake of falling out of his seat, forgetting to fasten his seatbelt and finding himself at the mercy of the elements. And the elements suck him in, kissing him back, predatory, impatient, playing with his tongue. Rick melts, biting the man's lower lip, tasting his blood like it's as important to him as water and food. God, this is unbearable.

"Whoa, someone wants it all at once," Negan laughs hoarsely, only pressing his body harder against Rick's, closing off any possible avenues of escape. And Grimes doesn't even think about retreating.

"Maybe that was on my list, too?"

Negan only grins at those words, setting the bat aside, close enough to reach if necessary, and kisses Rick again, moving down to his neck, licking the scratches left by the wire. Rick buries his fingers in Negan's hair, pulling away the back of his head as if still trying to fight.

"Why you?"

"Because I can kill you, but you can never kill me. And that turns you on."

"Bastard," Grimes hisses, clinging to Negan's lips again as if it were his lifeline, which in fact only drags him down harder.

Negan's fingers slide under Rick's t-shirt, tugging at his ribs and the short scars between them and Grimes moans softly as the Saviours leader touches an old scar from a former life without zombies or questions about his own sexuality.

[snowlily123]

A bunch of my ROTTMNT headcanons:

- Donnie listens to a lot of 80s songs.

- Leo is a Leo in astrology because yes.

- Raph likes family dynamic tv shows.

- Mikey has or had a hyperfixation on architecture.

- Donnie took dance classes (or watched dance tutorials online) as a kid and Mikey joined him specifically for ballet.

- The boys will shout memes at each other at 3am.

- Sometime the TNMT boys will just start singing a song randomly.

- Draxum was forced by Raph to watch MLP after his redemption arc.

- Donnie had a hyperfixation on demonology at one point.

- Leo likes to watch Hairspray and sings along to all the songs.

- Leo is terrible at making simple dishes but compacted dishes are his thing.

- Mikey learned to make food specifically so he didn't have to eat Splinter's cooking but then it developed into a full grown hobby.

- Raph likes to knit.

- Raph knitted everyone their sweaters and beanies during the Christmas episode.

- Donnie's shell armor started out as just a pillow and a belt.

- Raph took sewing classes and made Donnie his purple hoodie for a Christmas or birthday gift.

- Draxum and Splinter still get at each other's throats but Mikey brings out Dr. Feelings to get them to stop.

- April was adopted by Splinter.

- Donnie has had the intrusive thoughts about testing his tech on his brothers a lot.

- Leo has intrusive thoughts about biting Donnie's head. And he used to do it all the time as a kid.

- Donnie had a gap in his front teeth.

- Donnie had to wear glasses as a kid but ended up not needing them as he got older.

- Raph got his snaggle tooth caught on a lot of fabric he tried eating as a kid.

- Raph has that scar on his eye after the movie and so his brothers gave him a special eyepatch with a funny googly eye on the front of it.

- Raph has stuffed turtle dolls with his brothers’ corresponding bandana wrapped around their head that he sleeps with.

- Raph is really good at crocheting.

- Raph likes to make little crocheted animals that he keeps on a shelf in his room.

- Raph hangs out with Cassandra all the time as sparing partners.

- Raph has a special spot in the lair for when he gets too mad.

- Raph can’t cook for jack, except for sweets.

- Raph constantly trips due to his size.

- Raph definitely likes his sleep but is more of a morning person.

- Donnie and Leo have their own person YouTube channels and also a shared one.

- Donnie focuses on the analytical side of the channel while Leo is more focused on the video ideas.

- Mikey is aro/ace.

- Donnie is demiromantic with no lean.

- Raph is biromantic with a gay lean.

- Leo is gay but we already know this.

- Raph listens to music and writes in a journal to calm himself when he’s angry.

- Mikey helps Raph find new coping mechanisms and breathing techniques every therapy session.

- Donnie is much more flexible than his brothers because he’s a soft shell turtle.

- Donnie likes to do yoga.

- Donnie is overstimulated by too many loud noises.

- Raph likes to play pretend still even though many people tell him that “it’s weird that he still likes to play pretend at his age” and/or make fun of him for it.

- Mikey likes to play pretend with Raph.

- Donnie watches Monster High and collects all the dolls for each of the characters.

- Donnie has an entire wall in his lab specifically used to display all of the drawings Mikey has made and given to him throughout the years.

- Donnie cosplays Tinkywinky in his spare time. /hj

- Leo and Raph both crossdress, Leo does it because he finds it hilarious and Raph does it because he just genuinely enjoys wearing pretty dresses sometimes.

- Mikey definitely stole the ice cream kitty statue in that one episode.

- Leo is trans masc

[wilsons-journey]

Nektarius Lore

After a little talk with a Friend yesterday, lemme share some Nekt Lore, I never shared here on Discord.

She is my self insert, but with her own lil Story in the Tyria Lore. (She is also the embodiment of my intrusive thoughts - my inner gremlin)

First some small Ideas I had so far:

She belongs to the Ash-Legion. Her good observing skills made her a good informant.

She had a Warband, but never really connected with them - due to her often choose to be alone. Too many people exhausted her.

One of her first good friends among Charr was prob. Rolan (Belongs to @/BrightWingedBat), sharing some chaotic energy like her

Later she joins the Order of Whispers and get to know my Champion Vale

She probably ends up as one "background solider" during all the Commander Business

She definitely had some run ins with Valefor (I have no Idea how this girl survived.)

Talking of survivability, its her secret talent. She survived several accidents - on accident. With more luck than sense.

she is actually deeply afraid of death

While Vale resisted Jormags Words, Nektarius fell for it. Thinking they could find another way to save Tyria, without killing the Dragons. She felt very sorry for Kralks death - developed a big pity for the elder dragons. They just wanted to live, like everyone else wants

She becomes branded by Jormag, but due to her chaotic nature he soon grew annoyed of her. Sending her on a mission in hope she never comes back. And when she did, Jormag was long killed by the Commander / Champion.

With a little help of Aurene, she got healed from Jormags influence and kept some of the icy magic.

Some random lil facts:

SAB addict and a Scatterbrain

she has a very sensible nose - and sometimes sneezes a lot (dad sneeze a-TSCHOOO)

loves to play pranks or gamble

She is fascinated by Asura technology, and develops some knowledge about that. Also trying to build some stuff with Asura tech (with less success - wont stop her from trying) At least she managed to build a "Hunger Games"-like Simulator

She is a kleptomaniac. She sees shiny, its her shiny now!

Very curious, but also quite wary of people. She often stays away. If she interacts with people its often very chaotic. And she often feels guilty about it.

She has no problem to flirt and smooch every handsome boy / girl - but she has no interest in more. But she would never resist a hug.

When I can choose one NPC to be a canon good Friend to one of my Cats, outside the normal Commander Story - it would be Canach for Nektarius.

I feel they would get along very well. And she would definitly love his Casino - she loves gambling. But we never - EVER - talk about her debt there.

Due to her friendship to Canach, she don't have to pay back, but it won't stop him from brining it up from time to time like.

Canach: So about your debt. Nekt: You don't want me to pay it back, right? :slight panic: Canach: :) Nekt: Right?! :big panic:

He likes to make fun of it and send her on edge.

She is a recurring visitor there. Not always to gamble, but because she has no home to go to. She is homeless, since the incident with Jormag.

But what does she do outside of everything else?

She is still a skilled informant and spy. I see her to bring it to use as Mercenary. She is not a powerful fighter - she knows how to protect herself - the magic she inherited from her branded time helps, too - but she will mostly offer getting information or stuff like artefacts, treasures or just to deliver some important letters. Occasionally smuggles goods.

And when she is not on duty, she definitively drags Rolan into some shenanigans, where HE has to drag them out again. (Like annoying a certain murder Cat with a grumpy face,... )

[missmyloko]

Getting To Know Me - Part 7

On The Second Day of Fun I present... more about me! This one's pretty personal and something that I've wanted to write about for a long time as I know that this affects many of you as well. I want you all to know that you're not alone and that you can still succeed even with challenges put ahead of you. I don't exactly hide it, but I also don't go around advertising that I suffer from various mental illnesses. I think it's amazing how far we've come as a society even in the past ten years when it comes to talking about such a subject, but there's still plenty of work to do, especially around the stigma of having a mental illness in the first place. For something that will affect every adult at some point in their lives, with at least 25% of the global population suffering from chronic conditions, we need to make these "invisible" diseases visible, so I'm going to be doing my part for that today. Back in the 1990s when I was growing up there weren't really any mental health supports for children, which is a shame as I could have been diagnosed much sooner than 16. I had major depressive disorder by the time I was 12 and generalized anxiety disorder materialized not too long after that. The worst thing about being undiagnosed wasn't just that no one knew what the heck was wrong with me, but rather the panic attacks. I only learned what a panic attack was after my sister was diagnosed with them, and I had realized that's what I had been experiencing for years. I look back and wonder sometimes how I survived those days when, and I kid you not, I would have over 30 panic attacks each day. Nothing particular set them off, they just happened because my brain was just that imbalanced. So, my sister got diagnosed, I realized that's what I had, and I went to the doctor to get diagnosed too. Originally my parents were against me taking any pills because they thought that I was making it all up and that the doctor had somehow been mistaken, but soon the medication managed to prove them wrong. My panic attacks stopped. My grades shot up. I started making lifelong friends. I was a changed person, and for the better. My only downside was weight gain that no one told me about being a side effect. I had gone from being a 110lb twig to a 160lb well, me, in a matter of months. When that medication stopped working I ended up losing the weight, but being overweight in your final year of high school isn't exactly a plus. Besides that, high school ended on a decent note, and when I eventually went to university everything started okay, but that was a whole new stressor, and with it came another challenge: another new diagnosis. At 20 I became formally diagnosed with OCD, and I don't mean just small ocd but BIG OCD. I don't know if it was the stress along with my medications not working to their full potential that triggered it, but it was bad. Intrusive thoughts, repetitive rituals, and counting had taken over my life. I don't really remember how quickly it came on, but I do remember how much of my life it took over, how many excuses I made to try and hide it, and how thankful I was that I was able to get help relatively quickly in order to see a social worker about doing CBT and other programs for controlling OCD. To be continued in part 2.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Teething

Jaskier, likes to have fun. Everyone does. But sometimes, he goes a little too far. When the I'm-bored-let's-do-something-fun part of his brain turns on, he often gets into trouble, and takes Geralt along with him.

Because Geralt, no matter how mature and rational he is, always loses all his common sense the second Jaskier gets involved. Jaskier comes up with a brilliantly irrational idea for something fun, like sticking firecrackers in anthills, or tying a Halloween prop skeleton to the ceiling fan and turning it on high, and Geralt's brain is suddenly comprised of a single dustbunny and an obscene amount of blind trust.

Jaskier: "Do you want to go to the pool and put floaties on our feet to see if we can walk on water?"

Geralt *brain functioning at the same level as a common whelk*: "I'll get the floaties!"

Zero consideration is ever given to all the ways these ideas could go wrong. Jaskier just sometimes forgets that Geralt is a Witcher, and is much stronger than a regular human bean. With much faster relfexes.

Jaskier also regularly gives in to his intrusive thoughts. Which is how he decides that tickling a Witcher would be a good idea. Jaskier had the upper hand at first, having the element of surprise. And then Geralt, in breathless desperation, had twisted and...kicked.

He'd caught Jaskier right in the mouth. There had been blood. So much blood. It had been running from between Jaskier's fingers where he had one hand clamped over his mouth as he'd slowly tried to stand up, dazed and in so much pain he couldn't even scream. Geralt had grabbed him, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

He was missing most of his teeth on the left side, and the rest were broken.

F**k

The box of dumba** band-aids wasn't going to fix this.

Yennefer had been able to stop the bleeding and heal the empty sockets. She'd had to use a spell to numb his mouth and remove the broken and shattered teeth.

Repairing a few damaged teeth with magic was fairly easy. It didn't require much Chaos, but creating a whole new set of teeth? That was beyond what Yennefer could do all in one go

It would have taken several months to replace all his teeth. So, she came up with a spell to convince Jaskier's body to just grow more. Jaskier had expected to wake up the next morning with his teeth all grown back, but no. Apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

A week later, he woke up, gums a little sore. He put it down to soreness left over from being kicked in the mouth by a massive Witcher boot. A few days later, and the soreness had become more intense. He didn't mention it to Yennefer, not wanting to constantly whine about the same thing every day.

The pain put him in a bad mood and made him just want to hide in bed. He'd gotten more irritable over the following two days, snapping at Geralt and Yennefer and keeping to himself more. Yennefer had sensed his discomfort and gone to check on him. She had gone into his room, brushing soothingly at his mind as she ran her hand up and down his back. He was sweating slightly but didn't feel as if he had a fever. She had a suspicion of what was wrong.

"Your mouth hurting you, Nightengale?" She received an irritable grunt in reply. "You should have said something! Here, let me see." Yennefer carefully pressed her finger into his mouth and lightly ran it over his gums. She could feel two small bumps on his lower gums and two on the upper ones, right at the front.

Ah, just as she thought. Yennefer pressed her finger down on the bumps, rubbing gently, and Jaskier's breath hitched, then he realxed, biting down on her finger with a soft moan of relief.

"Your teeth are coming in." Yennefer said, rubbing the sore gums

Jaskier pulled away with an incredulous squawk of "You mean I'm teething?! Teething? Like babies do?!"

"Did you think they were going to just pop up overnight?"

Jaskier :*irritated, embarrassed gumbling*

He rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "Doesn't that take months? I'm going to be f***ing teething for months?"

"It won't take months," Yennefer assured him, playing with the hair at his temple, "They'll come in four at a time, with two days between. That way, you get a break between the sets."

And here he was, teething as an adult. It was awful. No wonder babies cried while they were cutting their teeth! The poor little b**tards!

The first four teeth were absolute h*ll. He hadn't known how bad it was going to be. Jaskier's gums were so sore. He hadn't known what to do, so he had just sat there and cried in his room.

Geralt felt terrible. It had been an accident, but still. He'd hurt his bard and there wasn't much he could do to help him. Or maybe there was...

He went out and did a little shopping. It involved uncomfortable assumptions and some awkward eye contact, but he'd managed. He walked out of the boutique with his fancy baggie containing some things that would hopefully help.

Jaskier was on the couch, trying to distract himself with his shows. He kept rubbing his gums like Yennefer had done for him the other day.

He vaguely registered Geralt sitting down next to him, too focused on the discomfort of his gums. He felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and squeeze gently. He turned and saw Geralt tenatively holding something out to him like some sort of peace offering.

It was flat, and shaped like a dinosaur with a hole in the middle. It took Jaskier a minute to realize it was a teething ring.

Jaskier had been too desperate for relief to turn it down. He threw his pride aside and just about snatched it out of Geralt's hand.

"That helping?" Geralt asked as Jaskier made little groaning noises as he chewed on the ring.

"Ohhhhhhhh, F***ing YES!" Came the muffled reply. Jaskier glanced toward the kitchen where Yen was making dinner, then gave Geralt a mischevious look. He nudged Geralt then started making loud moaning and slurping noises around the teething ring.

"Stop that right now or I will f***ing come out there and switch off your soul!"

"What?" Jaskier asked in an innocent tone, "I'm just soothing the pain in my poor gums!"

"You're being gross," Yennefer accused him, flapping a kitchen towel at him as she stalked over.

"Well, if me chewing on a teething ring grosses you out that much, I'll just have to find something else, " Jaskier sighed, feigning hurt. He turned to Geralt and said, "I need to rub my gums on something, so how about a blowjob?"

Yennefer slapped him on the back of the head with the towel. "You disgusting little w*nker!"

"Minger!"

"Plonker!"

Yennefer grabbed the teething ring away.

"Hey!" Jaskier sqwawked, making a grab for it, only to have Yennefer keep him at arm's lenght by means of a hand on his forehead.

"Calm your tits," She drawled, "I'm trying to cast a spell!"

Jaskier grumbled and flopped dramatically back on the couch to pout.

The teething ring was cold when Yennefer handed it back to him a few moments later. "That should feel better on your gums, dove," she said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before returning to the kitchen.

The teething ring stayed cold, thanks to the spell Yennefer had put on it, so he didn't have to worry about having to put it back in the freezer. He spent the afternoon being in a much better mood now that he could numb the annoying pain in his gums.

Yennefer had told him that the constant pain would slowly get worse over the next four days untill the teeth erupted. She had been right. The pain had gotten more intense.

He was looking at his gums in the bathroom mirror when Geralt stuck his head in and came over to see, Yennefer at his heels. Geralt tilted Jaskier's head back and gently prodded at the bumps in his gums. "Looks like they are ready to break through," Geralt said.

Yennefer hummed her agreement after looking for herself. Jaskier smiled rakishly and said "You better ask for that blowjob while you still can, Geralt!"

"EwW, JuLiAN!" Yennefer groaned, swatting Jaskier on the arm while Geralt laughed.

They finally erupted later that day, and Jaskier was relieved. The pain rapidly diminished, and he enjoyed the next two days where he wasn't in constant pain.

The next four teeth were not as bad as the first had been, to Jaskier's relief. And the four after that were fairly easy as well. He found that he didn't always need the cold teething ring to help with the ache. Sometimes, it was enough just to bite on something.

He used the other teether Geralt had bought, the soft rubber one shaped like a giraffe. It squeaked when he chewed on the body, and he spent the next four days being an absolute menace by annoying the ever-loving f**k out of Geralt and Yennefer with it.

He figured out how to 'talk' with it, and attempted to communiate with Yennefer and Geralt soley through squeaks, in various 'tones of voice'.

Jaskier (getting griped at for something): *soft, sad little squeak*

Geralt and Yennefer: *dropping everything and rushing to comfort him*

While the last two sets of teeth had been pretty easy, Jaskier found that the molars would cause him the most pain, even more so than the first four teeth. It was awful. His gums ached so badly. They were red and sore, and the pain was almost maddening.

Yennefer had to get him a different teething ring; one that could reach the back of his mouth. He wasn't complaining about the pain, and that worried her. He would go on and on about a scratch, or a bruise, but when it came to more serious injuries, he would try to hide it. She had learned that the quieter he was , the more pain he was in.

He had been lying in bed all morning, pulling at his ears, grinding his knuckles into the sides of his jaws, and chewing on his fingers. He'd tried to keep his whimpering quiet, but Yennefer had heard him.

She found the perfect teether, and spelled it cold. It had worked, to Jaskier's relief. He'd laid in his bed, cuddled up with Yennefer, his head on her stomach, letting the cold teething toy numb the pain while she stroked his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're a hot mess," she murmured to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Jaskier sighed softly as the pain ebbed away, and mumbled back, his Northern accent becoming more pronounced, "No am not, am a spicy disaster."

"That you are, Bardling."

Once he was feeling better, he emerged from his room and sat on the couch to terrorize Geralt and Yennefer with sex jokes and inappropriate gestures with his teething toy, which was shaped like a banana, and even had a peel. Every time one of them looked at him, he was making some kind of suggestive motion with it.

Geralt tried not to react to it, not wanting to encourage him, but Jaskier was very creative with his jokes and gestures. Geralt had completely lost his sh*t when Jaskier managed to get his attention, then held the banana teether at crotch level and started 'peeling' it.

Geralt outright guaffawed, and couldn't stop.

Yennefer yelled at him from the study, "Stop braying like an a**!", as she, against her better judgment, came to see what the fuss was about.

She regretted it instantly.

"Well, thanks, now I have cataracts! "

"Stop doing that!"

"And don't do that either! That's somehow even worse!"

"I don't care what it's called! Just stop doing-!"

"I hope you choke on your banana!" Yennefer spat over her shoulder as she gave up and swept out of the room while Geralt laughed so hard he snorted at Jaskier pretending to deepthroat the teething toy

Jaskier sniggered when she's gone, and went back to chewing, a smug look on his face.

Four days later and the whole teething nightmare was over and Jaskier was relieved. No more pain, or drooling, or being cranky, or not being able to sleep. Now he could focus on more important things, like his music and annoying Geralt and Yennefer.

[ziracona]

I finally got the intro to arc 2 done. Hope you have fun with it! As always, Tumblr gets the update first but before the final editing pass--a little glass half full, glass half empty ^.^' Enjoy: [Fate/GO AU – The Kid (pt: 1, … 22,23, 24, 25, 26, ?)]{Some spoilers for original Grand Order run/through Temple of Time, vaguer situational spoilers for later arcs}

.

.

“Roman?”

“Mmmmmhmmmph,” I groan unhappily, unhappy to have heard anything. I shift a little, trying to stay unconscious, because it’s better in here.

“Sorry, but you gotta wake up sometime soon. We’ve got like 100 people with guns who aren’t super happy about the 200 new people we just dropped on them without guns,” comes a woman’s voice, “You and I can take a real rest when we’re dead. Or when nobody’s looking. Which I wish was right now, but.”

I hear her, unfortunately, and I’m awake enough to know what the words mean, so I sigh, then scrunch up my face and drag my eyes open. I do not expect to find the blurry face of Da Vinci looking right down at me from above.

“…Da Vinci?” I double-check, squinting up at her. Yeah. I’m pretty sure it is.

“Oh wow, you actually woke up,” she says, patting my shoulder sympathetically, “I know you’re beat to hell, but, I’d love it if you cared to confirm what happened.”

“…Where is everyone else?” I ask, blinking and trying to shake off the lingering weight in my head. I feel sort of terrible, and sort of peaceful, somehow at the same time. It’s bizarre. Right. I shouldn’t feel peaceful at all right? Because there’s a lot of people to explain things to, who are upset and worried. And then there’s the whole situation to…to try and fix…

I look back up at Da Vinci, since she hasn’t answered me. My vision is starting to clear, and now that I can see her face, I realize she looks…sad. No, sad and happy. Nostalgic? Homesick? She’s looking at me like I have seen David look at me a few times now, when he thinks I’m not paying attention. Like it’s painful, in a way that is deeply good.

I…feel guilty, that I don’t know her. For all I know, she could be lying about knowing me, I guess, and I’m not a naïve person, but, I don’t think she is. And it makes me sorry.

There’s a little crackle in my head then, which I feel an instinct to panic at, because, you know, how could that be a good sound for the inside of a head? But then I hear her thoughts slipping through the space between us:

“I missed this. How can I be so sad? How can I miss him so painfully, while talking to him, face to face? I feel like I’m watching a memory, but, I’m not. Not this time.”

My stomach drops as I realize I’m unintentionally getting her thoughts.

“He looks so like he always did. Tired and cheerful and steady. He was our rock, and I’m not really sure I ever thanked him for that. That wasn’t my job. My job was keeping us alive, and giving him a hard time. But still, someone should have said it. It wasn’t easy. I know, because once he died, I had to be him. Dying the best you can for the people around you, and asking those kids who are like your own by now to live, and live happy, with the weight of the world on their shoulders? Is even worse.”

It ends then as soon as it began, with another crackle in my head like static, and I know I did not make that happen, but I still feel deeply wrong. I know whatever caused it, it wasn’t her either, and it was an intrusion; I wasn’t meant to hear it. I wish I’d been awake enough to think of a way to stop it.

I…I should be thinking about how to play this, or that this is confirmation then, that I am certainly going to die, because that’s important, but then, I’ve known that all along, right? And it’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking: “Wow. After everything, you have someone who misses you this much.” I should feel anything but reassured, but it’s all I feel. Peace. Or…gratefulness. I guess if only one of us two being able to remember it all, in the end, was enough for me then, then only one of us remembering at the start, here, is good enough for me, too.

Okay focus. She’s still staring into space. Maybe you can…

“Da Vinci…?” I ask, deciding to act like nothing just happened and hope she doesn’t know, “Did something happen? You look worried?”

“Not really,” she sighs, refocusing her mask with precision and speed, and putting on a smile while making a grand little shrug, “But you sure left us a situation. You try explaining the shit we just pulled to a room of angry mages sometime, and see how you like it.”

“Did anyone-?!” I ask with sudden fear.

“—Nobody got hurt,” she chides, “You think I wouldn’t have mentioned that? Your staff heard what you said before you passed out. We’ve got a bunch of confused civilians, which aren’t a threat, and a Holy Grail War’s worth of heroic spirits, which are, but are too much of one for them to want to start something. If they wanted to try to shoot us, they’d be doomed. And we have no reason to want to shoot them either. So no one did anything. It’s just been extremely uncomfortable.”

“Where am I?” I ask, blinking at the ceiling above me, and turning my head to try and see the room, and somehow only then realizing I’m using her lap as a pillow. Shit. I try to shoot up immediately, but she snags me and drags me back down. “-H-Hey!”

“Easy!” comes Makeda’s voice, from somewhere.

HUH?

“Hold still if you would? We’re sort of in the middle of something,” she says apologetically, and I see her as she steps into my field of view.

That’s reassuring, I think with intense distrust. “The middle of what?”

“Welllll,” says Da Vinci awkwardly, “Heh heh. Uh.” She gestures to the ground, and I turn my head from my prone position and see intensely complex sigil work on the ground. Makeda is holding a brush and ink, and seems to have been in the middle of adding more.

“What the hell are you two doing?” I reiterate, because this has absolutely cleared nothing up.

“We’re doing a spell,” says Makeda, “A divination. There’s a lot of strange stuff going on—I expect with you too, after the way you passed out. I’m happy to explain all of it, but a lot of it seems to be connected to you, so we’re using you as the focal point. I need you to more or less stay still. You can move your arms, and head, if you want!” she adds like it will cheer me up.

“We uh, thought you’d be unconscious longer,” says Da Vinci apologetically.

“It won’t hurt you,” promises Makeda.

I sigh. I know, I realize as I think it, and wonder why I was so concerned in the first place. I guess it’s that as out of control as all of this is, I want as many fragments of control as I can get, just to hang onto. Okay, Romani. Deep breaths. Calm down, and focus.

“Alright, go ahead. But please, do explain,” I add, unhappily accepting my fate. Couldn’t they have just gotten me a blanket and pillow or something?

Da Vinci sympathetically reaches down and rubs my shoulders absently, which in other circumstances sould be incredibly weird, but given…everything. I just really don’t care. I sigh again and accept it.

At least it feels good, and I feel like I’ve been thrown down a flight of steps.

You could have picked a better bench, though, I think just a little bitterly. I have no idea what conference room we’re in right now, because they all look the same, but the padding is too firm for a nap to be ideal. I’m going to be so sore after this… I guess at least Da Vinci’s contribution might save my neck.

“Well, you passed out, and we got to talking,” says Makeda as she goes back to finishing the edges of her sigil circle, I’m pretty sure massively sugar-coating the situation after I passed out, “And it was very easy to pick up that Chaldea wasn’t on the same timeline as us—that is to say—in the common sense. It’s our metaphysical timeline, obviously, but they seem to be a full two months ahead of the rest of the world.”

“So, for them, three days ago was the turn of the year,” says Da Vinci.

“Right.” I knew that part, and I guess Da Vinci can see it on my face, because she nods.

“I thought so,” says Da Vinci, pleased, “Just to cement a few things, can you confirm what happened when you exited the shadow border?”

Sure. Why not. “I got hit with a second set of memories,” I reply, “Both felt equally real, which was very disorienting, because they contradicted. The influx of that much detailed, emotional, and complex information all at once, overloaded my already very tired brain, and I passed out for…?”

“Two and a half hours,” says Makeda, glancing over.

“-Two and a half hours,” I finish.

“And this new set of memories?” prods Da Vinci.

I shrug the best I can on my back with my head in her lap. “About what I think you already expect. It was of being here, when Chaldea went through the turn of the year. I survived a bombing that took out most of the base, and the betrayal of a staff member. Ritsuka Fujimaru’s brother, Akira, and Mash both survived the bombing miraculously, by being rayshifted out. Our director ended up with them—Olga Marie Animusphere. We—the surviving staff—were able to fix enough equipment to contact them and try to help. They’d been transported to one point of history targeted by Goetia, Fuyuki city, during a holy grail war. A servant who’d lost his master helped them, thankfully—uh—an alter, of our Lancer, Cu Chulainn—oddly. They were able to succeed, and repair the broken point in time, just barely. The traitor to our organization, Lev Lainur, attacked our director, and took her out of commission, indefinitely. Then was killed. It was terrible. They’re just kids, and they went through hell with no preparation. I couldn’t be more proud of what they accomplished, or feel more awful, that they had to do it at all.”

They’re quiet this time, both of them. I guess it was more than they thought I’d say.

Honestly, it still feels so real I could throw up, and like a bad dream. I feel even more guilty over that. I get this…free sense of dissociation, to help me cope, and I didn’t even have to be there to see it first hand. God. The poor kids. Ritsuka too. Ritsuka, Akira, Mash, all the civilians—even our heroic spirits, who are tanks among men have all been put through hell. We need a break. They need a break.

“I’m sorry,” says Da Vinci, stopping her shoulder rub to pat me on the shoulder, “That is about what we’d gathered, though.”

“It’s not your fault,” says my father, popping up from over the back of a nearby chair he’s apparently been sitting in, and I just about jump out of my skin.

“Were you there the whole time?!” I ask.

“Of course,” he says in disbelief, “Did you think I wouldn’t keep an eye on you?” He clicks his tongue at me and crosses his arms over the back of the chair to lean on it. “As I was saying, you did everything the best you could, and it sounds to me like it’s been enough. The Fujimarus were ecstatic to see each other, and he and Mash both had a lot to say about how you got everyone through this.”

I don’t know if I believe him, but I’m too exhausted to consider arguing with my dad right now. I guess I appreciate it either way.

“Where are the kids?” I ask as it occurs to me, and I accidentally start to sit up on impulse, and am very kindly pushed back into place by Da Vinci, “—Sorry.”

“They’re outside,” says Da Vinci, “It’s just Sheba, me, and David in here with you. The kids all wanted in, but we forced them to stay outside—both so we could do the spell, and just in case there was anything you wouldn’t be ready to tell them as soon as you woke up, with whatever was going on. We three already know all your secrets.”

“Thanks…I think,” I say, then double-take, “Wait—you know all my—?!”

“Yes. Obviously,” she replies proudly, “Remember? I knew you later. It’s all old news to me.”

I start to say something, but then I remember what I accidentally heard, and I don’t. She looks at me quizzically.

“…When did we meet, the first time?” I ask instead as something occurs to me.

She smiles a softer smile, pleased. “Oh. A few months from now. –Or, a few days, depending on the memory set.”

Ah. I smile back as it clicks. “You’re the first successful summon, aren’t you?”

“Clever boy,” she replies.

“And you chose to stay and help? And became the…’technical advisor’?” I ask.

She nods. “Most of the building was blown up. Why not give me a title? You were the only staff head left. Although, I guess by now you know that.”

“Yes,” I say, glancing away and fiddling absently with one of my gloves. Even if I wasn’t close to everyone here, and some of them were awful people, it’s so much death. And not everyone deserved it—not by a long, long shot. It’s…

“You really need to start watching your health better.”

I look up in surprise to see David shaking his head at me.

I give him something between a grimace and a smile. “If I had any choice in the matter, believe me.”

“Well, if you won’t do it yourself, I will,” he warns pleasantly.

Terrifying.

“You do remember both sets of memories fully, right?” asks Sheba. She seems to have finished her sigil, because she walks back over and kneels by the bench and holds out a hand for me. I take it, and feel her magical energy fill the room like a wave lapping at the beach: soft, gentle, but unstoppable in sheer mass and power if circumstances change. “We weren’t totally sure that after…”

“-Experiencing a temporal displacement overlap?” suggests Da Vinci.

“-It would be smooth,” continues Sheba, “That’s also part of why we wanted you to get a chance to talk to us first. Everyone out there is hoping you’re ‘their’ Romani, but, you’re ours regardless of what information you retained. We both knew you from before,” adds Sheba, gesturing to Da Vinci and herself with her free hand.

“-And any version of you is my ‘Romani Archaman,’” says David, playful inflection on my new name.

“We just couldn’t get rid of him,” explains Sheba tiredly.

Unsurprising. David is a force. “Well, everyone’s about to be relieved, I guess, because I have all of both,” I confirm. Hadn’t even occurred to me that people would be worried about that, but, of course they would be.

“I’m not surprised, but it’s still a relief to hear,” says Da Vinci, “By all accounts from the Chaldea staff, it’s January, and you’ve been here the whole time. Actually—you are on-camera, vanishing, the second the door to the Border opened. There’s a little ‘flicker’ and the you at your desk is gone. The you at the Border flickers twice, like an electromagnetic spike, and then the video is normal, but you’re a half foot to the left.”

“Fascinating,” I say, not sure exactly what that means, “I’d have thought it would be when we finished the zero sail, not opened the door. I wonder if it’s a temporal delay, or if there’s more weight triggered seeing yourself face to face when it comes to time fluctuation than I’d thought?”

“So, convergence set aside for the moment without enough information to pursue it, what’s the point of divergence?” asks Makeda, something in her tone suggesting this is a much more important question.

“Oh, uhm…” I scrunch up my brow, thinking it over, “…The…day I heard about Ur-Shanabi, I think.”

David looks very interested by this.

“It’s…strange. My memories since the Incineration are very strong in both versions, but…the time at Chaldea leading up to it is…foggy,” I continue, a little disturbed to find this as I go, “…I. I hadn’t noticed, until you asked, but…”

“It’s the same for the others,” says Makeda, “When we heard their accounts, we checked some of the readings from SHEBA-“ She pauses to give me a coy smile in recognition of the device being named for her, and I flush.

God, I used to have so much game. The only thing my second life is giving is anxiety.

“—and saw a lot of distortion. After being quizzed closely, everyone here we’ve been able to talk to, only remembers the time before what I’m assuming is the day a version of you heard about Ur-Shanabi, and the time since December 31st on. They have…ideas, and impressions—generalities—of the rest of the time. But, it’s more like it’s there to sustain the jump in time, than of enough material stability to be truly real.”

“That’s so bizarre,” I say, truly fascinated, and again starting to sit up on instinct so I can truly think. Both women pull me down this time. Right. “Sorry. So, the version of me who summoned you inside Unlimited Blade Works, that timeline, I do have concrete memories of the days since I heard about Ur-Shanabi. Which makes the second set the anomaly, I think.”

“I’m inclined to agree, to a point,” says Makeda.

“To a point?” I ask.

“In the other timeline, the one that’s mostly just since the end of the year, did you not go to Ur-Shanabi, or not hear of it?” asks Da Vinci, ignoring my question.

“I never heard of it,” I say, “Which…should be impossible. It’s not like I heard about it in the other in some passing comment.”

I do not love that. Or that they could guess so on their own. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Do you think someone meddled with your memory?” asks Sheba.

“…No,” I say, glancing down at her, “I…think someone meddled with time.”

“Yes,” agrees Da Vinci, “They absolutely did. But we weren’t sure if they did both.”

“Why though?” I ask, “Shit—wait! If Chaldea is past January first, then, we’re no longer somewhere we’re seeing the effects of Goetia’s actions before he’s taken them are we? So-”

“-No, we’re still ahead of schedule,” says Makeda calmingly, giving me a smile.

I can still feel her magical energy pulsing through me and the room slowly, in steady beats, like a heart at rest. It occurs to me to wonder finally what exactly she’s doing.

“That’s what we were able to use your SHEBA observational lens to discover. It’s the first—well, second, after making sure you really were alright—thing that we checked. It’s like this space, just the building, is in its own bubble,” adds Makeda.

“Couldn’t Goetia be in one too?” I ask dubiously.

“No,” says David happily. I look over at him. “She checked,” adds my father smugly, pointing to Makeda.

“Really?” I ask.

She nods gracefully, long hair cascading over her deep brown shoulders. It’s been so long, but I’ve never forgotten how smart or how beautiful she was.

“Thank you, Makeda,” I say softly.

“For you? Of course,” she replies.

“So, you’ve already found him then?” I ask as it occurs to me.

“Uhhhhm,” says Da Vinci, and she teeters a hand in a ‘kind of’ gesture.

Makeda sighs, looking worried. “It keeps…changing.”

“Every time we lock on, the coordinates shift,” says Da Vinci.

“He’s moving?” I ask in surprise.

“No. The coordinates shift as if they’ve always been something else. The log always reads completely changed, all two hours of it, in an instant—as if it’s performed one search function, and gotten the same answer. But what’s on the screen changes about every two seconds—it’s half real, half moving, and half make-believe,” says Makeda.

“That’s not…possible,” I say, thinking quickly. I’m missing something obvious, because I’m exhausted, and I can’t afford to.

“No, it’s not,” agrees Da Vinci, and I look up from where I’m still stuck on her lap, and see her watching me with those fixed, calculating clear eyes. I think about what I shouldn’t have heard her think, and for some insane reason, I feel desperate to live up to my own future reputation.

“…It’s not real yet,” I say. It was a question when I thought it, but it’s a statement as it exits my lips.

“That’s what we think,” agrees Makeda, closing her eyes, and I feel an intense increase in her magical output.

For few seconds, we are all quiet, waiting. I feel her familiar circuits where her hands hold mine, and I feel a sudden pause in the heartbeat-like pulse of her magical energy.

It’s like time has stopped.

The energy holds, but she opens her eyes, which glow like a breathing galaxy.

“I’ve got it,” she says in an inhuman voice, and then the tide of her energy ebbs back into her, soft and controlled like it filled the room, and she releases my hand.

“What’s the news?” asks Da Vinci excitedly, seeming to forget she’s holding my head, and bending over so far towards Makeda that her stomach is smashing me.

“Can I get up now?” comes my muffled voice.

“Yes,” says Makeda apologetically.

Da Vinci sits back and I drag myself up, still and sore, and lean against the bench seatback, rubbing my face, and trying to get sensation back in my limbs. Makeda climbs up beside us, on my other side, and, apparently feeling left out, David drags his chair closer, then climbs back in.

“We were right,” says Makeda, to both Da Vinci and me, “It’s a spell.”

“A…” That is cosmically not what I thought was going on, or said. I—I guess she means about Goetia’s location not being real yet.

“A spell…” says Da Vinci, who I personally think from her expression, also did not actually think that’s what was going on.

Weirdly, I look at David, and he, alone, seems unsurprised. What do you know, old man…

“Can you elaborate?” I ask.

“Well,” says Makeda, “We’re not a singularity, and we’re not a lostbelt.” A what? “We’re built a little like one or the other though. Or a wish.”

“Like a grail?” suggests Da Vinci rather dubiously.

“Only in vague concept,” says Makeda, then, reconsidering, “…But, in vague concept, not a bad analogy. The ways in which we are similar to a singularity or lostbelt is in nature—partially complete and partially real, still growing—not in function. Functionally, more like a grail. The same way holy grail rituals have set rules and functions, so do most rituals and big magic. And this is certainly a function of intricate structure.” She suddenly looks embarrassed to be explaining this, to me, I assume because of my rank.

“So, the timeline we’re on has been altered. In a very significant way, from its original. It’s not a naturally occurring alternate timeline, but an intentionally constructed one,” I say, then pause, to consider. “…Any guess as to by who?”

She looks at me for a long few seconds, and then says, “No,” but I can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that.

“Okay,” I say, not pressing her for the moment, and moving on to the question I don’t want to ask, but know I have to, “…Can you tell if this…aberration, is it dangerous, like a singularity? Is it…are we hurting the world, by existing?”

Makeda shakes her head.

Oh thank God.

“Whatever we are, we’re not convergent, or concurrent,” adds Makeda, “Even if we’re not an alternate timeline in the natural sense, whatever bubble we are, it’s its own in the same way one would be. It’s magic, but, it’s magic not growing or building in opposition to, well, anything. It’s…disconnected. In ways that are zero sum.”

“Alright,” I say, feeling a few worlds better, “Then. …Whoever, and whyever they started whatever this…spell is, if it’s still in construction—if the magic is still in process—that probably means we either need to dismantle it, which, if it’s not dangerous, I’d very much prefer not to do, since in this timeline we could save a whole lot of lives by reaching Goetia before he acts, and uh, well, I have to assume this version of all of us would probably die—or, we’ve got to finish it—the spell, I mean—get it to cement—so it doesn’t deviate, or unravel.”

“Exactly,” agrees Makeda, “I think that’s where we should start.”

“Great! A plan,” says David happily, “So, how much are we telling the others?”

I hold up a hand. “Before that—you said this is some sort of spell. You mean magic—not magecraft, but magic. Like, First Magic.”

“I do,” says Makeda, “It’s the only class of magic that could do something like this.”

“What do we know,” I ask, ‘we’ meaning ‘her’.

Makeda sighs and places her chin in her hand, bouncing a leg absently as she thinks it over. “This?” she decides after a moment, glancing over at the rest of us, “Doesn’t leave this room. Not until we’re sure it should.”

I nod, and see Da Vinci move in my periphery.

“Alright,” says Makeda, and she opens the little lamp she carries, and smoke billows out, forming distinct shapes in the air as she sways her fingers through it, like the shadow puppet show of a master.

“Da Vinci and I have matching knowledge of another timeline. That alone isn’t odd. But in it, we know of events and people spanning from before the Age of Gods,” A sprawling mountain and a cloud city appear, floating islands of smoke, desert kingdoms, "to the distant future.” Building shapes from countries around the globe and centuries apart, fell into a timeline. Frontiers, temples, castles, modern skyscrapers, and past them, massive space ships. “We, should be here.” She indicates a modern urban skyline in her set of smoke-made history. “And we are. Ritsuka should be, and she is. Akira wasn’t at Chaldea, but him being here isn’t really odd. You’re mostly where you should be. But some people, are missing.”

Here, she makes a handful of figures out of the curling whisps, and then passes her fingers through them and watches them go.

“What’s more,” she continues, “A lot more, is that there are a considerable amount of people who shouldn’t be in this time, who are.”

Makeda raises a hand to her lips and exhales like she is blowing a kiss. Smoke forms humanoid figures along far separated points on the timeline, and they lift from those places by floating cities and icy mountains and desert sands, and settle into the urban skyline.

“Actually, they shouldn’t be at all,” she says, eyes on something far away, no changes in her smoke story this time, “At least many of them, should never have existed. Yet, here they are.” She looks at me. “And not transported, and confused. Here they are like they’ve always been, with normal memories and normal lives, somehow, in spite of everything, alive.”

“People who should never be?” I ask, a sinking feeling in my chest.

“It will take a little while to explain to you fully, but for now, people who lived in versions of time that only existed at all by destroying the time around them, and whose broken time had to be corrected, that is, erased,” says Makeda softly.

I nod, and keep quiet. I can imagine, since I’d been a little afraid after waking up with two sets of memories, that I could be a version of me that shouldn’t exist.

“Our reality, it’s real,” says Makeda, refocusing, “But instead of starting at the beginning of time and moving forward, as time is meant to, it starts here.” She indicates a point not long before what she’s designated as ‘now.’ “And it grows forwards and backwards from there. No, grows isn’t the right word. It…’becomes set.’ Like a writer starting a book in the middle: the beginning happened, because otherwise the characters wouldn’t be who they are, or have memories of their upbringing, or loved ones they share a past with. But it’s not stable, until it’s on paper, because once the writer forgets, there will be nothing to hold it all in place.”

A terrifying metaphor, I think, but I don’t say it.

“Whatever, or whoever, caused this,” says Makeda, “it hasn’t stopped working. But it’s magic still in progress. At a guess, something has to be…done, or ‘finished’—fulfilled—for the ritual to be complete, and the timeline to stay. If it doesn’t, it’ll collapse back in on itself, and…”

“…And we all cease to exist,” I say shakily.

“Well,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “This version of us.”

That’s great for the heroic spirits, I guess, but it really sucks for the rest of us. God, especially the ones she says ‘shouldn’t exist’ at all anymore. It’s…a heavy fate, that. Not to be taken lightly…

“And this point?” I ask, tapping the little swirl of smoke she’s left to indicate the start point. The smoke is surprisingly warm to the touch, and almost thick enough to feel soft to me.

Makeda watches me with her bright eyes full of their knowledge and sight. “You, Solomon.”

I am so taken aback I don’t know what to say.

“Me?” I check after a full ten, very suddenly awkward seconds.

“Don’t you mean ‘Romani’?” asks David, whom I’d completely forgotten was even in the room with us, and it makes me jump.

To my surprise though, when I look over, he’s not joking. He’s being pointed about the name.

“What,” he says, looking from one of us to the other, “That’s about when you would have been ‘reborn’ into a last life, right?”

He points and I look at the timeline again, and my breath catches in my throat.

“How many terrible things did I cause?” Wait, did I say that out loud?

“Not terrible,” says Da Vinci, patting my shoulder with one of her gloved hands, “So long as we can keep this thing going, it’s good.”

“Very, I would say,” agrees Makeda, and again, I see in her face that there’s something she knows she’s not telling me, and I’m sure she has her reasons, but it distresses me a lot not to know. This is beyond high stakes universe poker. This is all or nothing, eleventh hour Russian roulette shit.

“That’s not all,” adds Da Vinci, stretching, and looking very gleeful to have her own lore to share, “I ran some tests when you were out because something about Ur-Shanabi has been bothering me ever since the others told me about it.”

“And?” says David with interest.

“And,” says Da Vinci, looking annoyed to be interrupted, “There’s been a change in the world state. You know how in a holy grail war, the ritual is designed so when a heroic spirit dies, their energy is used to fill the grail—to power it, more or less.”

We give our various forms of assent.

“Well, it struck me really odd the Counter Force would let something like that go on so long without proper recourse, and it wasn’t apparently even Alaya that finally sent in the Counter Force Agent we’ve got—Ritsuka summoned him. But, when something like a grail war is on, the Counter Force tends to be less active. Rituals bring their own, shitty ass rules, and tend to be allowed more—some might even say inadvisable –catastrophic damage.”

“Yes,” agrees Makeda, “It’s about the way magic works. Even the universe itself, is bound by rules. That’s why the Counter Force has to use agents in the first place. Even power has limitations.”

“So, I looked into it,” continues Da Vinci, “And the way this thing works, the whole world is…sort of designed to soak power up, from everything, but especially from people.”

“That’s horrible,” I say, disturbed.

“Not really,” she disagrees, leaning forward and gesturing broadly, “See, it’s not like a leech. It’s designed to soak power out of people only when they’re trying to give power—like—it’s in a hyper-high-performance catalyst state. But it’s not forcing anything—people aren’t all slowly taking magic-radiation-damage or something. It’s just wildly amplifying and accelerating physics around energy and its transfer, when it comes to magic specifically. Heroic Spirits, though, we’re made of magical energy. And with the rules around magical energy, and the transformation and transfer of it altered—altered to make the change in form easier, not just when it’s offered from or created by humans, but in all forms. Well. ...”

“The physical structure of anything made of magical energy entirely has become a vulnerability,” I say, mental calculations locking into place, “The same way Achilles’ heel would be, or Samson’s hair.”

“Exactly,” says Da Vinci, way too happy about this.

“Well that’s genuinely terrifying,” I say.

She shrugs, a grin on her face. “At least we know what we’re up against. Half the battle.”

“I suppose so,” I agree a little uncertainly.

“Anyway, the other half of the issue may be that we’re not the only ones to have figured that out,” adds Da Vinci.

“Meaning who?” I ask, “I mean—obviously if Ur-Shanabi had it working, it was only a matter of time before someone else did too, but. The world is currently…well, incinerated. It seems like one problem takes care of the other, in the temporary anyway.”

“Well, you know how when she described what was happening with Goetia, you said ‘it’s not real yet’?” asks Da Vinci.

Makeda raises a hand and gestures to her smoke tapestry, and it begins to curl and dissipate, leaving a few floating ‘islands’ almost, as it were, along what was once a solid timeline. “Goetia’s attacks, when they come for real, target specific points in history, to de-stabilize and collapse the timeline. We know where, from our own memories, and the data we’ve been able to run with the effects already in place here. But the thing is…”

Slowly, almost delicately, Maketa weaves her fingers into the smoke, and then tugs like the is pulling it apart, and the image shifts from a 2D image, to a three-dimensional timeline, pieces splitting away in different direction. Of these, a select few’s smoke begins to shift into shades of pink, and I am sure this must be the ones Goetia has picked, because I recognized the 2004 Fuyuki a version of me has just vicariously experienced as one of them. Other pieces stay their original, almost purple shade of grey, and then a few more begin to turn a cyan blue. These, as Makeda makes a circular motion with her index finger, begin to rotate.

“They aren’t the only points reading as anomalies,” said Makeda, turning to look at me, “Da Vinci is till collecting data, and we expect it to take a while, but…”

“What we know for sure, is the Counter Force is—or at least was—active in all of them,” says Da Vinci, “But as far as we can tell, Goetia wasn’t.”

I look at the blue points on the map unhappily, and let out an exhale. “And…these all activated in the years between now, and 1985.”

Da Vinci gives me a sympathetic grimace.

“Well, think of it this way!” suggests David, “That certainly limits the damage, and narrows down the search area. Besides.”

He tries to reach way forward and tap Makeda’s smoke diagram, and his hand goes right through it, dissipating an image.

“Since what Ur-Shanabi did was considered ‘breakthrough research,’” he continues, totally nonplussed, “I would bet a lot of money that the points before the last couple years won’t have deeply significant change. If they had, someone in the mage world would have heard about it.”

Da Vinci and Makeda both look annoyed by this, but Da Vinci mutters, “…He’s probably right,” rather unhappily, and my father grins.

“See?” says David, reaching too far forward to try and pat me on the shoulder, and just having to latch onto it instead to not fall off the chair, “All good.”

“Well, that part is an overstatement, but, he’s right it’s not an immediate threat,” says Makeda, miffed, and she waves her hands and the smoke curls back inside the lamp she wears at her belt. “In the meantime, you should go talk to your staff and the others and let them know you’re alright.”

“Yeah,” agrees Da Vinci happily, swinging her feet in anticipation while she watches David very awkwardly make it back upright in his chair, “I’ll keep running calculations and try to get some kind of gameplan together. But we need more data before doing anything concrete.”

“I’ll help,” I say, honestly just relieved to have a little breathing room.

“You will NOT,” says my father sharply, “Not until you get some proper sleep! Look at you!” He gestures broadly with both arms. “You’re a wreck! You’ve been up for three days straight, and went comatose from memory bombardment for almost two hours! You’re exhausted! You transplanted a magic crest, onto yourself, then summoned two heroic spirits inside a reality marble, and stayed up for another forty hours!”

“I, uh,” I try awkwardly, taken aback.

David crosses his arms and eyes me. “You and Ritsuka are both going to take a rest. You act like you forget, son, but you’re only human now. The last thing anybody needs is you to work yourself to death. Or past usefulness.”

I wish he didn’t have a point, but I feel like death warmed over. Still… “I should be able to help though, and it’s-“

I was going to say ‘my fault in the first place,’ but all three turn to look at me as one with such a united front of deeply terrifying energy, like a pack of guard dogs just itching for the command sick ‘em to come,that I don’t.

“…I think David is right,” says Da Vinci, recovering her mask of pleasantness first, and smiling at me with her eyes shut. She pats me on the shoulder. “You can come help in the morning.”

“…Yes,” says Makeda simply, but the way she says it has an undercurrent of chilling.

I’m not getting out of this… “Alright, alright,” I say as I feel the pressure in the room begin to grow tense again, and I put my hands up, “I’ll rest. But, I do need to talk to staff first, at least a little, to explain things—and the kids.” God, poor Mash. She is so inclined to worry, too.

“That’s fine!” says Da Vinci, her same eyes-shut smile still on, “Just don’t stall too long.”

“Yes,” agrees David, hopping out of his chair and offering me a hand, “Let’s do that.”

I let him help me up, but the second he lets go, I almost lose my balance, with my legs so completely asleep, and me so dead-tired. The instant I do, David, Makeda, and Da Vinci all make a move at the same time to help me, and I can’t help but laugh, a deep, full body laugh, as I catch myself and then straighten up on my own, feeling a lot better now.

“It’s so funny,” I say, glancing from one to the other with a smile, “I’ve been the most isolated I think I’ve been my entire existence, for months, and now that things have really fallen apart, I’m surrounded.”

Da Vinci smiles back. “Good.”

I nod. “Good indeed.”

As I wait for my painfully asleep legs to get some feeling back in them, I survey the room for real for the first time. “Where are we right now, anyway? Which conference room is this?”

“It’s the one closest to the command room,” says Da Vinci.

I nod. Finally getting a little painful feeling back, I take a few steps towards the door, testing my balance. Ow.

As we begin to walk, my whole little horde of tag-alongs staying suspiciously within ‘he might fall again’ distance, David says, “Question, Miss Da Vinci. You seemed to know Ritsuka, from Chaldea, but it’s her brother here who’s done this Rayshift, which should be how you meet, or met her, in the future. And then you said it was odd for him to be the one in the Fuyuki singularity, but not very odd. So, was it both of them who helped you, originally?”

“No,” says Da Vinci, seeming surprised—by the question, or by it being from my father, I’m not sure, “I’ve never met the brother before, although I knew he existed.”

“Interesting,” says David.

Interesting indeed.

“Where are the kids?” I ask.

“Didn’t I tell you?” asks Da Vinci, “They’re outside.”

“W—You mean in the hall?” I ask, taken aback, “They’re not resting?” Ritsuka is dead on her feet, and Akira and Mash just returned from a rayshift like three hours before we arrived!

Da Vinci shrugs. “Like father like-” She stops and almost seems a little flustered, then just offers me an impish grin.

Weird, I think, since it’s really no secret I see Mash as a daughter, to anyone. I guess I probably deserve that though. …Damn it! WHY didn’t I do a better job at teaching her to prioritize her health? Stupid! Kids watch what you DO, not just what you say! Stupid stupid! Bad job, Romani! Bad job!!

“Okay, well, let’s fix that too,” I say, increasing speed towards the door. God knows we ask enough of them as it is. I hope they haven’t been too exhausted and miserable out there.

------------------------------------

“I just can’t believe you’re here!” says Akira, beaming at me, “I mean, what are the chances?!”

“I know!” I chirp. I’ve been grinning so hard the past few hours that it hurts my cheeks, but I’ll never stop! “And you?! Holy crap! The Last Master of Humanity??”

“No-no!” he corrects, his mouth full of the pb&j he’s been working, raising a hand and then pointing from me to him, “The Last Masters of Humanity.”

I laugh.

“Like, go Fujimaru twins, am I right?” he asks, mouth even fuller as he takes another bite.

I elbow him. “Don’t do that! Didn’t dad teach you manners? Not in front of a kouhai!”

He chokes on the pb&j and desperately grabs his milk bottle to help wash it down, then after a solid swallow, gives his friend an apologetic little, “Sorry Mash.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replies hurriedly, flushing at us both, “I know you’re hungry and tired.”

“Well, you must be too, right?” I say, offering her a box of pocky.

Hesitantly, the purple haired girl just a year or so younger than me, takes the box and opens it, giving me a little smile.

Mash is neat. We’ve all only been talking for like, two hours or something—it can’t possibly have been that long since my group even arrived—but, I like her. Somehow, she feels like somebody I’ve known all my life. I guess she just must be that kind of person. And, it makes me happy. And relieved.

She’s timid, and quiet. Big eyes, soft voice, always watching the stuff around her like a baby deer taking in the world. But, from Akira’s stories I’ve been getting, she’s also like, super brave and dependable. And a ‘Demi-Servant,’ which, as far as I gather, is a heroic spirit kind of reverse-possessing someone, so instead of them getting the body, they let a normal living human use their power. Apparently, back when the building exploded, Mash got trapped under a fallen pillar, and my brother went and was going to die like a hero holding her hand while another bomb went off, so she wouldn’t be alone (a story she told me trying not to cry, and while staring firmly at the ground, while he turned the reddest I’ve ever seen him, and also looked so, so smug). But instead of either dying, they were saved by whoever is letting Mash use their heroic spirit power, and got rayshifted out.

Rayshifted, as far as I gather, is like teleporting and time travel. Okay, mechanically, it’s more like going to another plane in D&D, where you’ve got a thread connecting your body to a duplicate body, but if one dies the other is in big trouble—you know what—I don’t get all the science. Miss Da Vinci said you’re broken down into your spiritrons, and those are transported to other coordinates in time and space, and re-assembled. So, I wouldn’t know how to do it, but, I get what it does, which I think for me is the important half.

Anyway, when time got incinerated in the city, apparently it was because specific points in history were getting messed up, and my bro and Mash went and repaired one. So one ‘Singularity’ is now stabilized, and, if they fix them all, the world will come back.

So far, it’s been a crazy ride—I mean, his story might be even wilder than mine. And we’re both not even totally done telling the stories. We’ve really only covered bare-bones.

But anyway, to me, the important part is that he’s here and okay and alive, and that this can all be fixed. And, that I’m really glad Mash was here. Akira is brave, but we’ve always done stuff together. We’re strong because we were born with somebody to lean on—I think that’s part of why I’ve been able to do so well with these heroic spirits helping me, despite not being very good at magecraft: I literally came out of the womb as part of a team.

Akira’s the same. We’re strong when we have somebody to lean on, and to prop up, but not alone. And, while I wasn’t here, Mash has done that for him—really reliably!

Plus, I think, smiling as I watch her chomping on the pocky with more gusto than I’ve ever seen anybody else eat it, like a toddler trying ice cream the first time, I bet they’re good for each other. He’s got a lot of charisma and adaptability and he knows how to make you smile when it’s rough, so you can keep going. Mash sounds like she’d be there to be a voice of reason, and pull you up when you fall, but might need somebody who can make her feel like it’s okay for her to smile and talk more too. I bet they’re going to be great friends.

“I’m glad he was the first one you summoned,” says Akira, who has already forgotten what I just said, and gone back to talking with food in his mouth—indicating Billy with his head. “He smiles a lot.”

“He smiles a lot?” I echo.

“Yeah,” agrees Akira, giving me a grin, “You don’t have me there to crack jokes when you need them, so you need somebody else to remind you it could always have been worse, and it’s gonna get better.”

I snort, but then I think about it, and I smile. He’s not totally wrong, and even more than that, it’s reassuring. Twin-morphic-resonance. We were thinking the same thing.

------------------------------------

“How’re you doing, you sad bastard?” asks Lancer, sidling over to where I’m sitting slumped against a wall near the conference room, holding a bottle.

“I feel like I might do nothing but throw up for the next year,” I reply dryly, annoyed to have to pry my eyes open again at all. It just makes the headache worse.

“Well hey,” he says, sliding down against the wall next to me, and slapping me on the shoulder, “You got the world record now, for longest sustained reality marble. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Great. Put it on my tombstone,” I reply, shutting my eyes again and leaning my head back against the wall.

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re not even injured,” he replies in an annoyingly amicable way.

I sigh. “Why are you over here bothering me. What do you want?”

There’s a clink as he taps something glass—I have to assume the bottle—against the metal guard on the back of my hand.

Annoyed, I crack open an eye and glance over. He’s raising a large bottle of what up close I can tell is definitely alcohol of some kind.

“Come on,” he says, “Gotta push through.”

‘Push through’?! I think, irritated, I just sustained a reality marble for almost three days. I’ll kill you.

“Alcohol isn’t exactly going to make a headache better,” I reply dryly.

He snorts. “Not going to make it worse.”

Yes it will, stupid. “What do you care, anyway. Go bother someone else,” I reply.

He rolls his eyes and removes the glass cork, then takes a swig. He holds the bottle out to me.

I’m annoyed, but I’m too tired to keep arguing, and I want him to go away, so exhausted, I take it, and drink. I'm even more annoyed that it's actually pretty good.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning at me.

Oh go fuck yourself, I think. “How’s the doctor?” I ask instead.

Lancer shrugs. “Seems fine now. Everyone who’s useful at that kind of magecraft is in the command room, trying to figure out how the hell this happened. Everyone else is supposed to rest up.”

Great, is there a bed somewhere then? That actually might help. “Anywhere better for that than here on the floor?” I ask.

When we arrived, after what was more of an awkward than dangerous standoff when the doctor fainted, we were more or less asked to stick around this general area, and it would have been more trouble than it was worth not to comply. Besides which, as tired as I and everyone else are, the civilians who are actual living humans have it worse, and some of them are injured. They were given access to a large conference room and as many pillows and spare blankets as the staff here seemed able to find. Us spirits, and the Fujimaru kids, stuck around near the command room to wait for the doctor to wake up.

“They’re working on it. We brought in almost two-hundred people,” says Lancer, a little more seriously, “And the facility was bombed not long ago, so a lot of their shit is under rubble right now.”

“Bombed?” I ask. News to me. But then, I missed a lot the last few hours. Basically as soon as I could tell there wasn’t going to be a fight, I went to collapse and rest somewhere, with as much dignity as I could, before my core knocked me out completely.

“Yeah. Right—You left,” says Lancer, cocking his head and thinking, “Some guy turned traitor, and took out a lot of the staff a couple days ago—to them, right at the turn of the year. They’ve been scrambling ever since.”

I nod, too tired to ask a lot more right now. “Anything pressing, for us?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. You can pass out.”

On the floor? I’m not sure I’m that desperate. Not with this group of people.

Lancer takes the bottle back and drinks, then passes it back to me. I give in and take another swig. Energy is energy, and it’s not bad. Even if it won’t help the headache. I guess I’m physically past caring about that.

“…It’s weird, isn’t it?”

I glance over at Lancer, waiting for him to elaborate. His tone has changed. It’s light, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness, study, almost. He’s not really looking at anything I can tell, though, just eyeing the empty hall.

Finally, he turns his face back towards me, and smiles, but I don’t believe the smile. I don’t really think I’m meant to. “It’s familiar.”

Is it?

I’m skeptical, but, as he says it, and I turn my own head to look over the nondescript, white-blue walls, it’s…

“There’s…a cafeteria. That way,” I say, not sure why, pointing to my left. “Two halls down.”

I haven’t walked that way at all.

Lancer nods. “There is.” We meet eyes, and we both understand something I almost wish we didn’t.

“…We’ve been here before,” I say. It’s not a question. “Together.”

He nods, very slowly.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“I…remembered,” says Lancer, thinking, and quieter than usual, “And I didn’t. ‘I’ haven’t been here. I’m sure ‘you’ haven’t either. But some version of us has. Because I remember, a Christmas with you.”

“…And…Robin?” I ask, perturbed by the sudden inkling. It’s not a visual memory. It’s like…information, like the throne fills in when we’re sent to a different area. Or the familiar emotion a smell brings, if you knew it well. “…No. David and Robin, but not you…” I add to myself, under my breath. The hell? Were all of us…?

But then, Da Vinci said that, didn’t she? That she knew all of us aside from Salieri.

“It’s our own future summons,” I suggest, “That we’re remembering.”

“But if it is,” says Lancer skeptically, “That would mean we’re all about to die. Then get re-summoned, and be remembering the re-summoning. We can’t remember the summon we’re on.”

He’s right. “That…seems a little far-fetched. But I don’t know what else it would be,” I say. Maybe I do.

“Parallel timeline?” suggests Lancer.

“Our memories, or, sense of them, is way too keen for that…unless, there’s a reason we’re being allowed this much,” I add, thinking.

He shrugs, seeming to completely relax again suddenly.

“What?” I ask.

He glances at me and smiles. “Ah, nothing. I could tell you remembered stuff too. Figured if we were about to die, we’d both have some kind of bad feeling. Or one of us would, at least. But neither of us does. If we aren’t about to die, the memory stuff is a problem for future us.”

The way you live your life, I think, smiling at the absurdity in spite of myself. He holds out the glass and I take it and drink. “Well, good luck to them then,” I say tiredly.

Lancer grins and holds up the bottle in toast. “To them. Probably gonna fuckin’ need it.”

------------------------------------

“So, that about bring everyone up to speed?” asks Da Vinci pleasantly.

The Chaldea staff around us trade looks, confused, but glad to have answers, even if they’re answers they don’t understand. The civilians who aren’t resting, and chose to attend, seem to be feeling an even stronger version of the same response. Something like ‘Oh thank God somebody has an idea.’ –I guess I can kind of relate. I flip up the hood of my cloak, and relax a little against the back wall. Even if the situation sucks, it’s reassuring to have some answers. Plus, the doc and his two casters look a lot more relaxed, so, I gotta believe they have a plan forming now, at worst.

In the front, I see Ritsuka’s hand shoot up, and just a half-second later, her brother’s beside her. Da Vinci nods at them both.

“So…” says Ritsuka with great focus, glancing at her brother then Da Vinci, “If our best move is to stabilize things enough we can find Goetia, then what’s our next step to stabilizing?”

“Our next step,” answers Doctor Romani with a tired smile, “Is for you to rest—for everyone, to rest. Those of us who do analysis, we’ll take shifts, so we can keep running tests on the situation. Everyone else, we need to be in tip-top shape.”

One of the kids goes to ask him a question—the brother—Akira? – and Doctor Romani cuts him off with a gentle hand.

“-Akira, Mash, you two just got back from a harrowing experience. Eat, sleep, and then report tomorrow for a physical exam and mental health checkup. Ritsuka, you just helped sustain a reality marble for the better part of three days. After almost dying, and contracting a grail war’s worth of spirits. You do the same. On the subject of spirits, obviously Emiya needs time to recover, but as much as possible, I want everyone else to, too. Rest up, because we need you sharp. We’ve uh—finally—got accommodations and rooms worked out. Sylvia has a print out with room assignments, as well as directions to bathrooms, the cafeteria, and medical quarters.”

“And after we report?” asks Akira.

Doctor Romani sighs. “…We don’t know for sure yet, but, it’s pretty likely we’ll be having to send out small groups to contend with both the targeted singularities, and the new anomalies. We’ll let you know more when we do. But for now, the assignment is rest.”

“Yes sir!” calls out the little purple haired girl—Mash—almost over the end of his sentence. She turns pink and stutters out an apology.

“I can’t believe he wasn’t lying about the daughter thing after all,” mutters Emiya in disbelief nearby.

I try not to laugh.

“And that goes for the Doctor, too! I’m afraid he’ll be out of commission while he sleeps,” says David in a friendly tone with more than a little danger hiding inside it warning against being challenged, “There are other people on standby at the medbay though—don’t worry.”

Doctor Romani sighs again. “Any last questions?”

“I got one, but not for him,” says Billy’s voice in my head, “Robin, uh—everything he said—you got the gist of it, yeah?”

“I did,” I reply, mostly ignoring the end of the briefing in favor of this.

“Well, if some human mages figured out some kind of First Law type magic altered the world state, I can see those greedy bastards runnin’ around breakin’ all kindsa shit tryin’ to get more power—ain’t like mages ever been careful before,” he replies, “But they ain’t the ones who changed it. Too much experimenting. And I believe the Doc didn’t do it. I know the kid didn’t. So who do you think did?”

“Why would I know?” I ask, turning to lean against the wall and trying to find him in the crowd so I can give him a look, “I’m not a Caster, or any kind of magic user, for that matter. If they don’t know, no way I do.”

“Well, sure,” says Billy awkwardly, and I find him in the crowd finally, near the far left side, already watching me. To my surprise, he looks…deeply contemplative. “But you would know who would want us to have a chance to see each other.”

“Come again?” I say, truly taken aback.

“I…thought it over,” says Billy, meeting my gaze, “What got said back in the bar—about how everyone but Kotarou seems to come in a set? Think about it.” He ticks off on his fingers. “You, Me. Emiya, Cu Chulainn. David, the Doctor. Mozart, Salieri. Doesn’t it seem way too random to be random?”

… “I take your meaning…” I offer slowly, “…I do. …But. …No one would. Right?”

Billy nods, looking concerned. “I could only think of Geronimo, for us. But, I don’t think he’s ever even met any of the others. They sure as shit don’t remember him. And I can’t think of anybody else. But it can’t be coincidence, right? Two is coincidence, three is a pattern—that’s the sayin’.”

“Well…whoever did, it seems non-malicious, right?” I say after a few seconds of thought, “Even as much as Emiya and Cu Chulainn bitch at each other, they’re not actually mad to both be here. And it’s a straight-up gift to most of us. I don’t think we need to be worried about it.”

I look across the room at Billy, and the expression on his face says he could not be more sure that I’m wrong.

“I think you want to know a donor, not just a robber,” offers Billy.

And when I consider the re-painting of the whole world going on around us, I realize pretty quick he couldn’t be more right.

“Alright!” comes Da Vinci’s voice, loud through the speaker system, and sharp, snapping me back to attention, “That concludes the briefing! Everyone rest up. We all need it, and it's a big day tomorrow.”

------------------------------------

It’s quiet in the room. Somehow, it feels almost like being home. I really like it.

I mean, it doesn’t look like home. The walls there are not the off-white of paper walls like I’m used to at home, and there aren’t all the pictures and posters Akira and I hung up on them; it’s kind of sparse in here—just white-blue walls and floor, the Chaldea emblem on the wall, a desk and an empty shelf, and our beds—but, just the same. …It feels like getting in your bed at home does. Dunno why. Maybe because Akira is here, and we’re always okay together.

“Aki,” I say. He’s been quiet, but I know he’s not asleep. He doesn’t like, snore when he sleeps, but he breathes louder, and I know the sound super well. He isn’t doing it right now.

“Suka,” he replies. I can tell he knew I was awake already too.

“…Are you okay?”

I haven’t gotten to ask that before. We always had Mash, or Doctor Romani, or Billy, or somebody else nearby. I mean, I could ask, but he couldn’t have said the truth, if I had, and I couldn’t have either.

“…”

I hear him sit up, so I roll onto my side and look over. Even in the dim light from the hall outside, spilling under the door, I can see him enough to make out his expression, and see he’s looking at me, too.

“…No,” he says simply. He leans against the wall, and tucks his knees up to his chest.

I climb out of my bed, and walk over to his, clambering up beside him. Taking my place next to him, where I always am, I sigh, letting out some real tension finally, and I feel him lean his head on my shoulder.

“How about you?” says Akira.

“I’m not either,” I say quietly, “…But. You know. It doesn’t matter.”

It’s weird. I wish it did, but, I feel selfish, and bad, for wishing it did.

“Yeah,” he says in the same subdued tone as my own.

“…We’re gonna be okay,” I promise, looking over.

He exhales slowly. When he speaks, I can hear an attempt at a smile in his voice. It makes me sad… “Are we?”

I take his hand. He squeezes mine, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, just thinking, and breathing together.

“…You wanna tell me about it?” I ask finally, in the stillness of the room that feels like my bedroom at home somehow, even though it’s on the other side of the world, at the end of it, “About it for real? With all the bad parts, and awful feelings, and stuff you’re afraid to even think? The stuff that wakes you up at night?”

He thinks about that. “Yeah. I would. But you go first.”

“…I got somebody killed. For real, forever. Not because I wasn’t fast enough to help. The heroic spirits helping me killed them, for doing bad stuff. And now they’re just dead.” I think about that for real. About Mr. Toujou. Miss Ayase.

I turn and look at Akira, and see his eyes reflected back in the dim light, like my other half.

“…I feel bad. I didn’t want it. But, what’s worse is…I don’t feel very bad. I know I should feel worse than I do. I know I should feel guiltier, and have tried harder. But, Mr. Toujou threatened to kill you, and Mom, and Dad. He was going to kill me, and make me kill my heroic spirit. They were torturing people. Director Ayase was running that whole place. And I…I saw, what they did to Billy, to Robin, Cu Chulainn, David, god, Salieri. …Kotarou. I just…”

He's still watching, listening. No judgement.

“…I’m scared it’s gonna change me,” I whisper, letting go of his hand to bury my face in my knees. “What if I become bad? What if I care less someday? I don’t want to stop being me, but I feel like I’m already letting myself down.”

“…” Akira watches me a few more seconds, then looks away. “…I saw a bunch of people die,” he whispers, “When that bomb went off, there was fire everywhere. Parts of the ceiling had fallen on them. The walls. Some had even burned alive. The worst part, was that not everybody was dead yet. And…” His eyes tear up. “…Mash was there. A column had crushed her body. Everything in her midsection must have just been pulp, and I couldn’t lift the column, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I could. She was dead, it was just taking a while. And I could hear another bomb ticking down. I was so scared. I wanted so bad, Suk, to live. I wanted to run out that door, and not look back. But god, she was so scared. She was crying, and shaking. I knew the scariest thing on earth, to her, was to die alone. And I knew I wasn’t gonna achieve anything, except a few seconds being less bad, if I stayed to die with her. If I died, you and Mom and Dad would all be so sad, too. It would have been so easy, to leave her. I wanted to leave her.”

I realize he’s crying.

“…But you didn’t,” I say.

“I’m scared it doesn’t matter,” says Akira, “Matter enough? I thought about it. She was so pitiful, and helpless, and I thought about leaving her to die alone, to save myself.”

“But you didn’t,” I say again, putting a hand on his back.

He nods, breathing slowing back down. “I know. …What if I do someday, though?”

Oh. We’re exactly the same, huh.

“…You won’t,” I say after a few seconds. “I know, because I know you better than I know myself. Even if you did, I’d still love you, and I’d forgive you, and you’d still be good, but you won’t. Because you’re glad, right?”

He glances at me.

“You’re glad you stayed. And not just because you got a miracle, and survived. It was scary, when you were deciding, but after, it was easy, right? Like peace.”

“…How did you know?” he asks, shifting to face me more completely.

“I saw how you looked at Mash,” I reply easily, smiling, “You were grateful, right? That you got to save her.”

He nods. “I was really glad.”

“Then don’t worry. You aren’t how you feel, you’re how you choose to be. And you’d always save her. I bet you know that already, deep down. It’s just really scary, the first time you have to act the way you always thought you would,” I say.

“You realize you’re not holding yourself to the same standard, right?” replies Akira with a tired smile, plopping a hand on my head, “You’re worried you’re bad because you aren’t feeling guilty enough.”

“-W—no—and I didn’t try hard enough!” I argue.

“Didn’t you?” he says, unimpressed.

Did I? I’m not sure anymore. I’m so jumbled up, it’s hard to tell.

“You know how when we were kids, you always really liked the character who was the hero’s friend, who got trapped sort of turning to the dark side—not because they were bad, but because sometimes someone had to do something a little bad, so the hero didn’t have to?” asks Akira, “They were such a good friend, they’d even lose themselves, so the hero didn’t have to?”

“Is that what I’m turning into?” I ask nervously.

He grins and shakes his head, like I’m being stupid. “No. But you should love yourself at least as much as that, if you ever started to. Those people who died, it was to protect your friends right? And you feel guilty you didn’t try harder to keep them alive, even though probably there was no way to do it at all?”

But…what if there was? And I’m just not good enough to find it…

I nod, and look at the sheets.

“So if you even did anything wrong, which I think you didn’t, even a little, you only did it to protect somebody you love,” says Akira, like it’s so easy, “You put them before an ideal that was gonna hurt them. That’s not bad. That’s love. You’ve always been good, and you always will be Ritsuka. And if you ever have to do things you wish you didn’t, I already know the only reason you’re gonna do them is so someone like me doesn’t have to. I hope you never, ever have to do that again. But if you do, thank you.”

He reaches over, and he pulls me into a hug.

It’s a little unexpected, since we were talking, but, I think I needed it. I feel the urge to cry build up in my throat, and lean in against him, wrapping my arms around his back.

“I know you want to save everybody, and have everybody be good, and never hurt anyone at all,” whispers Akira, “You want to love everybody, and see it all turns out alright. So thank you, for taking a bullet for everybody else. I know it hurt. And I know it hurts to ever act how you don’t want to be. But thank you, and I love you for it. Thank you for loving me enough to do the hard thing yourself.”

“Do I have to do it?” I whisper, voice shaky, trying not to cry. I can’t, so I stop talking, and lean my head into his shoulder, doing it silently.

“No,” says Akira, “You never have to. I hope next time, I’m the one who does.”

I don’t want that at all. I’d much rather it be me.

Oh.

There’s something in that thought that gets through the way the rest of what he’s been saying hasn’t quite been able to. Maybe…maybe not every part of it isn’t bad, about me, even if most of it was. Maybe there’s a little piece of love in there too, after all.

“Let’s hope neither of us has to ever again. I want to grow up a little slower,” says Akira.

“Me too. But so long as I get to do it with you, I think we’ll both be okay,” I whisper back.

And it helps.

In the way my twin has only ever been able to help me.

Akira and I talk, for several hours, when we should be sleeping, but, I think we both need this a lot more. I talk about helplessness and weakness and my inability, and the weight of quick choices, and my fears. He talks about failing to save somebody, and needing to never do it again, and how lonely it feels to survive.

But, it’s not all bad.

I already knew it wasn’t, for me, but somehow when I say the good and all the bad together to Akira, I really hear how much is good in a different way—even with the parts that are bad; like, how I was so scared Toujou would kill him and Mom and Dad, and how Emiya said he wouldn’t blame me if I made him die there to save them, and how he thanked me after. How he promised he’d keep them safe from Ur Shanabi, and did it too. How Salieri makes me so sad and worried, and said he’s not like a real person, but I gave him food, and talked to him the same, and I didn’t think it would matter, but I saw him smile at the shop. How Doctor Roman bought the goofiest swimsuits in the gift shop, to try and help me relax, and wore it all through an operation. How I was a little worried about tying my pool of energy to somebody I didn’t really know, but he keeps coming to check on me and make sure I’m okay, and he hasn’t betrayed me or hurt me once. I keep gambling, and winning—I said that to Akira. He said, ‘No. You keep putting faith in people, and they keep proving you right.’

I’m not sure if it’s different. But, I like the way he says it.

It’s been scary. I watched the world wipe away, like a bomb was taking out the whole planet. But, we saved people—people that weren’t alive in the version of the world Akira knew about, here in Chaldea. Maybe it’s only ninety-six people who wouldn’t have made it, but that’s so much more than zero. I’m really proud of it. Even in the horror, we’ve done little things okay.

It's the same for Akira. He doesn’t tell me until the next morning, when we’re getting ready for the day, but, he feels awful for what happened to Olga Marie, but he says he also saw her change—grow—that, in the short time they worked together, she got less mean, and less hard, and he was proud. She said she didn’t want to die, because she hadn’t proven herself yet, but he said, ‘I wish it felt like it might have mattered to her that she did, to me, in Fuyuki…’ I said, ‘I think it would.’ He smiled. And he talked about Mash, who’s shy, and awkward, but she’s brave, too. He said she’s gone from being barely able to say no to a request, to risking her life to protect him—and she’s not just braver, she seems happier. Not that all this bad stuff happened, but she’s really…alive. He says Doctor Roman told him that talking with Akira after the mission was the happiest he’s ever seen her. It would be great, if nobody had died, and she still got to feel that way, but the fact it happened a bad way, doesn’t make the goof part not good.

I can tell he’s different, too. Akira’s impulsive, like me; Mom and Dad call us ‘the tornado twins,’ because we ran around causing messes on accident so much when we were little. I know he hasn’t changed much, but, I can see him thinking hard now, and I know he’s thinking about how to make everybody happy and safe. I wish he hadn’t had to grow up a little so fast. I wish it hadn’t happened at all. But, for parts of him to grow into early, I’m really happy he picked such a nice one.

We talk for several hours, quiet, like we used to when Mom and Dad had said it was bed time and we better not, and we’d whisper to each other through the wall of our rooms anyway and be bad, because we were too excited about a trip the next day. I know they were right, and so is the Doctor now, but I think this time we were too, because at the end of it all, I climb back in my bed, and I hear Akira whisper, “Hey, Suka? I really love you, you know?” and I whisper back, “I love you even more,” and we go back and forth trying to one-up the other for a minute, and then call it a tie, and the room gets quiet, and I really rest for the first time since this all started, since the day I got Billy out, like I’ve learned how to sleep again by talking with my brother.

Maybe I have. Maybe if he can be proud for me, and I can be sure for him, we can both really be…okay.

------------------------------------

Timeline: Two Months, Sixteen Days, Two Hours Forward. Coordinates: -4.R48X91, -R1.559X46 Graph: 10912.1326

The jungle is dark and full of shadows, but it is not quiet.

That is a good sign. There is nothing more fearful, in a jungle, than the absence of noise. Can you even imagine the terrors it would take to scare every type of beast living in one, into silent submission or flight?

So, it is a clearly good sign.

What is clearly not a good sign, is the man-made structure up ahead.

Kuhaha, I mutter as a scoff in my throat. Irritating, being dropped here for this. Not that I’d prefer a master; I wouldn’t. But I’d prefer some damn idea of what I’m being flung here to do.

It isn’t like planning or persistence are issues for me, which is probably why the Counter Force chose me, but it’s not my job, and I don’t love being spat out by it. I shouldn’t be here at all. And if I’m in the prison tower after this again, I’ll hunt her and that demon down myself.

Still. I let myself melt into the shadows and fade in and out, towards the building. It’s an ugly thing, built at odd angles and jutting out, like boxes of different sizes stacked haphazardly about. I have become curious, so, I may as well indulge. Despite my distaste for the system, it does tend to throw heroic spirits at the more disgusting humans in this miserable world, and I have a taste for blood.

There is movement behind me.

How. The HELL, did I not notice the-?!

Cursing, I swing around, and am uppercut in the face by a massive blunt object the size of a bed.

Shit, I think it is a bed, I register as I fly backwards, breaking through two trees before catching onto a third one with a clawed hand and swinging around it with my momentum, landing back on my feet with an aching jaw.

Fast—hell—too fast! I feel almost no spike in magical energy, but the red figure who attacked is a blur, tearing at me at a sickening speed. Tch-!

I leap up, and call black flames to my hands, raining them down on the thing, but it dodges and weaves, and I see it raise a gun, so I mentally calculate the time it takes for a bullet to be fired and aim taken, and dodge, leaping from the tree I’m clinging to, smack into the path of the gun, because it THROWS it at me! Not shoots! No! It throws the whole gun at me!

It doesn’t even hurt that much, but it catches me by surprise, and expecting that, the red figure takes that fraction of an opening, leaps, and kicks me out of mid-air, through another three trees. I hear trunks snap and thud around me, and curse as I dig my claws into the ground to bring myself to a stop. It’s going to draw guards, like this.This thing is probably their perimeter security. I need to retreat, if I want to at least avoid being identified.

I sink into the shadows, and begin to melt from one to another, and the stupid thing appears from among the trees at a full-tilt run again, going right for me—I swear! The damn thing locks eyes! It’s a human, too—a heroic spirit, it must be, and it’s running at me like a football player going for a tackle.

FINE! If that’s how you want it!

I dash forward myself, and having run away before, I catch her by surprise, ducking under her arm and slicing her through the gut with a black-fame’d claw.

She cries out, more in surprise than anger or pain, and whips around to follow me like she hasn’t even noticed.

Tch. It didn’t go as deep as I meant.

The woman twisted on impact, like even too late to dodge, she somehow knows the best place in her gut to take the hit. This is a pain. I’m not really hurt yet, but neither is she. I need to make this really fast, or whatever is in that building that the Counter Force found important enough to throw me at, is going to come out here, and I’m not a man who likes to rush in blind. I should take this more seriously.

Annoyed, I catch another tree and swing myself around it again, sliding past her as she barrels after me, and slicing into her leg.

Almost too easy. She caught me by surprise, but she’s not as fast as me, just odd.

Moving faster, I tear off into the cover of shadows again, her, single-minded as a bull, plowing after me through the underbrush, then I turn and leap to a tree, propel myself off the side to another, and then from it, dive down at her, tearing a gash across her chest as I go past.

Breathing hard, she hesitates, turning to see where I went, and I use the opening to dash in and swing at her back with a claw, and my fingers sink in and find flesh, just as I feel a vice-like hand clamp down on my neck, raise me up, and slam me hard into the ground

JESUS! How strong-?!

It actually stuns me. Just a split second, but she slams me down so hard that the ground dents around me, and I’m at least two feet down, in a crater, throat burning.

“Hold still,” she says like a mildly-irritated reprimand, and that tips me off like nothing else has. She’s not even mildly threatened.

Shit-

“I don’t need mercy!” I shout, raising a hand towards her face, and managing to dig my fingers into the side of it, drawing blood, but her eyes are fixed on me like steel, and she’s already calling hers out, too:

“I will purge all that is toxic, all that is harmful.”

“I follow a path that is beyond love and hate!” I spit, digging my claws deeper and feeling my mana surge around me.

            “For as long as I have this power-“

“Enter Chateau D’If!”

I do it—I’m faster.

Around me, I feel my body speed up, my mind sharpen, until the pace is so frantic, time may as well stop around me. Wrenching myself from her grasp, I rip a claw up and through her torso, scouring her body with black flames, curses of death. I move at the same time left, right, behind her, above, tearing her back, her legs, her arms, her face; I am everywhere, I am fire itself, I am death and hate in that moment, I am the concept of inescapable suffering and the unconquerable march of the reaper. In an instant, I attack from every conceivable angle, and cover her body in the flames of the cursed poison inside me, then skid to a stop on her left as the phantasm breaks and ends around me, the world catching back up.

You’re finished, I think, relieved, and surprised to be threatened enough to be relieved, No one can survive those flames.

And no living witness to a phantasm, no identity given away.

Her uniform, as I’m only now recognizing it to be, hanging in tatters around her, blood seeping from her chest over breasts and down her torso, past the hole through her stomach, and along shredded leg muscles, she blinks in surprise at where I was, then turns to see me where I am now, as if she can still sense it. Her face is not twisted in pain or anger. Her eyes are red, like mine, and burn, like mine, but burn a different color. Blood seeps down her forehead, and it’s like she doesn’t feel it, the way I don’t. And she looks at me, but not the way I am looking at her. She reaches out a hand, but not the way I reached out mine, and she calls:

            “I shall lead everyone to happiness!”

She’s still using it, I realize, taken aback. She has to know using that much energy would kill her instantly, with my flames consuming her body at speed already. She’s going to take me out with-?

“Nightingale Pledge!”

A waterfall of white flames erupts around her and the black flames of my phantasm that are burning out her life, and behind her, a massive figure the size of a building appears—like her—I think it is her, but made of white flame as well, and with a sword, and she raises a hand and the sword comes down with a ferocity and speed—I try to move, and find I can’t, and it hits me.

And passes through.

I breathe raggedly, reaching a hand to my chest, and I find myself undamaged, only—Wait. My flames have gone out?

They always glow around me and my claws, but-

Shit!

I look back at her and see they’ve vanished around her as well, and as she stands there, unmoving, the slashes across her face heal, and the hole in her stomach closes, and-

Mer…

I see her. I see me, in the Chateau D’If, and—?

“Mercedes?” I ask, taken aback, and I forget for just an instant, to move.

She is on me like an attack dog, her force and size knocking me to the ground again, and I see an outstretched hand holding a pad with what can only be chloroform on it from the smell—Stupid! Poison won’t even work on me! I just used my own-

My back hits the ground and the pad rams into my face, and WHY THE FUCK IS IT WORKING?!?

What the HELL is going on with her?! WHY-?

Damn it! Her phantasm! That’s right—some part of me remembers; it blocks the effects of other—

“Mercedes!” I try, voice muffled by the pad, “Get off of me!”

I could stab her until she lets go, but now that I remember who she is, I suddenly don’t want to; I also suddenly remember she’d probably die before thinking to move, the insane  nurse! Instead, I try to just grab and pull her off, but it’s like wrestling a goddamn rhino.

What kind of insane strength do you HAVE, woman?!?

“Please sit patiently. You are in need of treatment,” she states calmly, pinning me down without mercy, and not budging an inch.

“I do not need treatment!” comes my muffled voice as I thrash around under her, trying not to breathe, “I’m fine! Get off! We’re on the same side!”

“I’m sorry, but you are clearly disoriented and unwell. You may be suffering an injury to the head,” she says with sympathy, “I am not Mercedes.”

YOU BITCH! Do you remember me too, and you still-?!

Shit, it’s getting hard. We don’t exactly do body functions the way humans do, but it doesn’t matter, because her chloroform is seeping in not exactly the way it’s supposed to either. Holding my breath seems to slow it down, but I think it’s sinking into my skin anyway. Also, it’s also agonizing, which it shouldn’t be, because I don’t actually have human lungs! I should be able to hold out until it starts damaging my prana cycle, and instead she’s…fucking somehow forcing my body to think it’s functioning like it’s flesh and blood! “You remember me?” I manage.

She tilts her head and blinks at me, considering my face, staring deeply.

“…No,” she decides.

LIAR!

“Listen to me!” I choke out, “I don’t want to kill you, but if you don’t get off me, I’ll rip you to shreds! We both need to get out of here, before the people in that building get here to check out the massive disturbance you caused!”

She turns her head to look, then looks back at me.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “I do know you.”

Finally! Thank-

I relax for just an instant, and she dumps a whole bottle of chloroform onto my head, then slams me in the gut so I involuntarily take a breath, before I can even process what just happened.

Shit…

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding genuinely sorry, “You were agitated and needed to be sedated. I decided the best way for you not to hurt me like you want, is for you to go to sleep.”

“You bitch…” I wheeze weakly, forgetting not to take a breath, with my head suddenly so hazy. This is so stupid. I’ve made so many mistakes in a row, and it’s just because I remember her! This is why it’s a mistake to ever let anyone get close to you—only someone you trust can ever stab you in the back! Why did I do this?! I’m so frustrated I almost do hope she just bashes my head into a puddle now. Maybe I’d finally learn that lesson.

“That’s extremely inappropriate language,” she reprimands harshly, as if she’s disappointed in me now, too. Gripping the lapels of my coat firmly, she jerks me up, and hoists me over a shoulder in a fireman carry.

…this sucks.

“Just…kill me,” I hiss out unhappily. Damn it. My head is starting to feel numb.

“I told you—I am not going to kill you,” she replies, “You need treatment.”

Great.

I feel a gloved hand pat my head. “That’s good. Please remain calm. Your anger was consuming you so much you could not listen to reason, but do not worry; I will find a way to cure you even if I have to kill you.”

“…please don’t,” say dryly, giving up and hanging limp over a shoulder.

“I am Florence Nightingale,” she says, ignoring me.

No shit. “I know…who you are,” I manage between labored breaths.

She glances at me and tilts her head again, curious this time. “Then why did you call me-?”

I pretend to pass out, because I don’t want to answer, and I’m exhausted now anyway.

“Hmmm. Poor man,” she says with a sad sigh, and forges on.

Angel of Crimea, more like Angel of Brute Force Sanity, I think, but I’m not as annoyed as I could be. I’m not as sick as I’m acting, either. The effects of her drugs will knock me out if I’m not careful, but they only worked full force when she was smashing me in the face with them, and with her noble phantasm wearing off now too, I could choose to activate my poison resistance and shake off the effects. The thing is, though, I actually don’t really mind letting her have her fun, and just going along with whatever it is she’s planning. I could fight back now, or break free, and run away, but I don’t really have a reason to.  I mean, she’s not going to kill me, no matter what she said; she just isn’t like that—and it isn’t like Alaya gave me instructions, so if it can’t be bothered to lift a finger, why should I run around slaving for some malicious god? Besides, as much of a pain as that crazy nurse can be, she can also be fun, and the fact she’s here at all is interesting.

The fact both of us are?

Maybe there is a reason, I think, contented, and I begin to plot.

[lenardslittlemeowmeow]

Hello again! This is a post for people who have read my recently published fic "To The Unfriendly Neighborhood"!

I promised, didn't I?

This is an art piece I did while writing the fic! Major spoilers for the fic underneath the read more! Please give it a read and then come back and check this out :D

Now that only people who have read the fic (or are willing to spoil themselves) are here…

I proudly present: Jewel!

Yep! She needed a different name during the concept and ideas process because half-Unfriendly Junebug was too long, so we (me and a friend) decided on Jewel! Because Jewel beetles look very similar to Junebugs and are closely related.

And this is her!

This is her normal everyday wear! Her hair is tipped bright green because she convinced Gordon to buy her hair dye. Her skirt is long because it helps to hide her legs without them getting tangled up (I wanted to show them off lol). She's supposed to be disproportionate by the way.

This is her jacket outfit. She wears it when she's having a bad day and needs more of a "shield" from the world. It doesn't quite fit perfectly because it's an old employee's jacket.

And now the fun part, details and extras about Jewel and the story!

Story details:

- The reason Norman and Lenard thought Jewel didn't actually meet Gordon is because they hadn't encountered him themselves and made assumptions.

- Pearl actually knew who Gordon was, but she didn't think he was coming back and thought Jewel was just being wishful and naive.

Jewel details:

- Absolutely despises Norman. Particularly the Norman who wasn't aware of Gordon's existence and was the first to tell her he wasn't real, even when he was. She's sorta indifferent and standoffish to the other Normans, but she's downright aggressive to the original.

- When it comes to the puppets, she gets along best with Lenard, since he helped her through her transformation and the whole ordeal afterwards. They're very close.

- Struggles with delusions and hallucinations, often Lenard and Gordon are the only ones who can help her out of them.

- Very protective of Gordon. Almost constantly by his side. On bad days she'll growl at anyone who gets too close to him. Can and should be likened to an overprotective attack dog.

- Will sometimes just. Pick Gordon up. Like when you hold a cat by the armpits. Carries him around like a teddy bear. (He learns not to fight it lol)

- This is made funnier by the fact that she's 6'3, and I HC Gordon as 5'2.

- Has chronic pain in her legs and missing eye.

- So many body insecurities. So many.

- Intrusive thoughts galore. Do you know how many times this girlie has vividly imagined tearing her friends apart? Hates it with a passion.

- She becomes pretty cynical, but she tries to see the best in others regardless.

- Picks up cursing from Gordon, gains quite the potty mouth. I HC that the puppets are literally incapable of cursing until they turn Unfriendly, and Jewel is just Unfriendly enough that she's not blocked from it.

- Pretending to be friendlier than she is is incredibly difficult, so sometimes she'll go deeper into the studio, find an abandoned room, and just tear it to fucking shreds. Goes absolutely apeshit. Sometimes she just needs to let it all out.

And with that, I am done! Please ask questions about her or this AU if you have any, I love her lots and would adore if someone else had an interest in her!

I'm sort of working on a post-TTUFN fic about that last point on Jewel, so stay tuned! No guarantees cause I'm burning myself out a little, but I should have a short one out sometime, at the least :3

See ya!

[ask-sibverse]

Prompt: hiking date with Killer (As much fun as explicitly diabetic related situations are, it's nice to do some things where the main focus isn't diabetes. I do have another diabetes focused drabble planned, but for now, fluff! Mostly.) Set in the same version of things as this

TW: violent intrusive thoughts

(Like this? Want more? Send a prompt!)

Cgm, check. Pump set to activity mode (one of the author's favorite damn settings about the Omnipod), check. A boatload of granola bars and other low blood sugar snacks to shove in your inventory, check. Plenty of water? Got it.

"I think I'm ready," you said.

Killer had suddenly texted you that he's taking you on a hike, before immediately backtracking and asking if it was too much with your diabetes. You tried to resist the urge to smack him as you reminded him you swim regularly in the summer and did martial arts several times a week for years. You know how to balance diabetes and exercise.

So here you were now and hour later about to go on a date with Killer. Was it a date? He hadn't called it one. It could just be a friendly, platonic outing. You shouldn't make things weird.

But you were ready to go, either way. You walked out of your room to find Killer on the couch with your cat. Cats are tiny hunters and Killer is, well... Yeah. So it didn't really surprise you that he got along great with your cat. Said cat was currently purring in his lap.

"I'm ready to go."

"I'm trapped, go on without meeeee."

You stared at him. "I don't even know where we're supposed to be hiking."

"Oh yeah. But the caaaaat."

You snorted and scooped up your cat. He meowed in complaint but let you move him off the murder skeleton. "Lets get going, shall we?"

He nodded eagerly. "You ever been to Mount Ebbott?"

"No, I don't think I have."

"Its not too horrible a hike, and the view is great from the entrance to the Underground."

"Okay, let me get my car keys."

"Why bother? You've got someone with you who can teleport."

"I keep forgetting that."

Killer snorted and extended his hand. "Hang on tight."

Shortcuts were sometimes more disorienting than portals. Portals you at least were passing through something to get from point A to point B, shortcuts you were one place and then you blinked and were somewhere else. So to suddenly be in the woods at the base of Mt Ebbott took a moment for your mind to catch up with.

Killer started dragging you up the path as soon as you collected yourself. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and it was just the two of you on the mountain.

"Is it usually this peaceful?" You asked. "I don't think anyone is up here."

"Depends on the AU, and the time of year," Killer said. "But yeah, no one but us here right now." He paused. It seemed like thoughts were running through his mind. "I could do anything to you, and no one would know."

"Killer."

"I wouldn't, I promise!"

"Killer."

You sighed. "What's going through your head?"

"... That no one would hear you scream. That I could chase you through the woods and kill you, watch my knives make you into a pincushion and no one would find out until it was too late. But I won't do that, promise!"

You put a hand on his shoulder. "Do we need to go back? It sounds like your mind is getting to you."

"No! Ill be fine, I want to show you the view from the top!"

"Alright, I trust you."

So you filled the silence to give him a distraction. Talking about your hobbies and cats, asking what he and the gang had been up to. It seemed to work, at least to distract him if it didn't fix things. You almost didn't notice the entrance to the Underground until you were about to fall in, Killer having to grab you by the collar of your jacket.

"Don't fall in. You're not a Frisk." he snorted. You stuck your tongue out before turning.

The view took your breath away. You could see all of Ebott City from here and the surrounding valley. You could imagine how incredible it must feel to see this for the first time after centuries kept underground.

"This is..."

"Incredible, yeah. I saw it a few times before my human really lost it."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I hope Chara doesn't reset here, I'd hate for everyone to lose this." Especially your friends

"Eh, who knows." He shrugged. "Don't have a high opinion of most of those brats. Or humans in general."

"What about me?"

"You're... Different. Special."

[macabrecleaver]

Shhhh...

The blog here may contain posts that can be triggering and/or disturbing for the viewer, you have been warned.

Meeting the Blogger, Hysteria.

🩸 Basic Information!

Name: Hysteria (or Folly) Age: I am 17. Pronouns: He/it Sexuality: Unlabeled (LGBTQ+)

I’m an ENFP 7w8 with an undiagnosed mental illness(es); As well as a cannibal with memories from past lives that are traumatic. I have documented my thoughts here, but I am also willing to discuss other topics, like aesthetics.

🎭 Hobbies/Likes!

In my free time, I enjoy drawing and playing games. I also like listening to Spotify, eating sweets, and chatting on Discord. I love spending time with people, so feel free to DM me; I won't bite! I am interested in horror, psychology, and forbidden knowledge. I find theoretical conversations fun, and I sometimes have dark humor, depending on my mood.

👔 Aesthetics!

Downtown Boy, Starflesh, Meatcore, Fleshcore, Y2K, Chaotic/Dark Academia, Cryptidcore, Weirdcore, Liminal, and anything from the 20s to 90s.

🎧 Music!

Rock (Lot of different types of Gaze, etc), Indie, Krush Club, Sigilcore, Alt Metal, Bedroom Skramz, Screamo, Swing, Emo, and more!

🥩 Questions and Answers.

Q: What do you mean by "You're a Cannibal?" Are you glorifying Cannibalism? Is it a kink?

A: I have obsessive and/or intrusive thoughts/urges of cannibalism. I do not find it sexually appealing, and it can even be distressing. I would like to meet other cannibalism enthusiasts.

Q: What do you mean by "Past Lives"?

A: I possess source memories from my past lives, and they significantly influence my daily life.

Q: How do you feel about people interacting? Reblogs? What's your DNI? How should we interact?

A: I’m 17 and in a committed relationship. I’m easygoing and like to connect with all kinds of people. Just treat me with respect, and we’ll get along well. I’m open to talking about hypersexuality because it’s something I experience, but please know this isn’t an invitation for anything inappropriate.

🔪 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔, 𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒚 𝑫𝑵𝑰.

🚫 DNI: Pedos, Groomers, Pro-shippers, Racists, Sexists, Homophobic, Transphobic, and overall, the standard DNI list.

✅ This is a safe space welcoming a diverse amount of people including but no limited to: Age Regression, Pet Regression, Neurodivergence and mental health of all kinds, Otherkins, Therians, Furries, Kins, Irls, and more.

[-------------------CUT---------------------]

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

hey zeepie! HIHIHIHII!!!!

ermmm

irl bestie headcannons? why the hell not, happy Valentine's season (or smt) a lot of this is purely imaginative, as im cautious about ppl online. I hope you feel better ❤️

if we were irl besties, I would prolly be afraid to text you a lot. id send u shitty memes and funny shit id find on Pinterest and think you would judge me about it, before seeing you happily text me back.

we would text about things happening, like gen alpha slang, or about our future. lots of intrusive thoughts from my way with frightened commentary from you

while I may be busy often, I try to fit my friends with my schedule, even if they don't match often (they go to public school) so youd be invited to Mexican parties, bday parties, skating hangouts, or even the once-in-a-life-time boy girl party.

and other times, I just want to spend time w/ you. sometimes I would invite you to the park to simply interact, or we would visit each other's house for a self care day. Everytime I see you, I just tackle you in a giant hug, as you struggle to hold me a bit.

id bring all of my favorite masks, along with the best snacks possible. you would prolly have the blankets and towels. imagine me loading up fortnite on my Nintendo as I make you an account for your tv 💀💀💀

like the 'its my first time' adult x 'imma protect you no matter what' 16 yr old trope. you'd call me cringe as I finish setting you up, and invite to my party for 3 rounds of battle royale.

we lost all three 😭.... but! but- we did get at least 9 kills on average per round, that's a win for me 👀 the opps were too strong for us 😞🫴🏾

id steal your remote as i press the tubi app, choosing some trash iteration of the monkey king. you'd laugh so hard about it the whole time, while id be rambling about the quality of CGI and the differences between modern movies.

while we talk I may poke you a bit, you swatting my hands threatening to fight. it's just smt abt tickling that makes a blk person wanna throw hands 🫠 👊🏾💥👊🏾💥other times id sooth through your hair in a spaced out silence, not really minding anything.

you'd ask about my locs sometimes, and my haircare routine. (thinking abt it now, I haven't gotten my hair done in almost a month 💀) so you'd prolly ask why my roots are so fluffy instead of rolled up. a smile would com across your face as I continue to explain, telling you about the palm rolling + clipper process, the dangers of water, and oil buildup. you laugh as I tell you about my dream to dye my roots neon green, keeping my tips pink.

(fun fact: [and this could apply to every hair type, but especially locs] when you leave water in locs w/o drying properly, you could literally grow matted mold. it can become very smelly and strong, because hair in general ESPECIALLY CONJOINED HAIR soaks up water like a fuckin towel. and if you arent careful about the products u use/what products you use, and how often you wash your hair, it can cause oil buildup pretty easily.

im not sure why, but when I add water to my hair, my scalp dries up and it starts to shed 😭😭 I SWEAR I USE OIL-)

and sometimes ill disappear for a month. it won't be on purpose of course! as soon as I get my phone in my hands, I'm racing to send you my entire meme bank, making you cackle during the early hours of the morning.

and when we can't meet up, well just ramble to each other over call, or play shitty Roblox obbies on discord. throw writing ideas, communicate, au's fictional and irl, existential dread, carpet fuzz. anything really!

and we would be really good friends too- like, top tier verbalization, positive affirmations, and happiness all the way ❤️

the only thing I could think of you and me arguing about is the use of my n word tendencies for stupid things. or my procrastination-

but other than that, being your irl bestie would be awesome! id make sure of it ❤️

ohh uhym

just, uh, aha- gimme a second? chippy?- babe– ,,

[scampers away behind a conveniently placed bush, curls down into a squatting ball so only the back of my head is visible] Guueuuueeeeeeeeghehehgehegheeeghhhh,,, gaaaaasp– ghhhhhuuuuuuueeeerrrrrghhhhgehegeheeeeghehhhnngh 😭😭😭

THIS IS!! SO!! 😭😭 THIS!! 💥☝🏾 CHIP. 😫 CHIP. 😭 CHIPPY?? CHIPPYYYYYY 👹

I read this groggily after waking up from my sadness-induced nap and it immediately, IMMEDIATELY !!! ... made me smile. Like, so so big. SO, so BIG!!!

Aaaand I am so, MAD, that we don't know each other irl because?? I need this?? In my life??? I've,,, ALWAYS needed someone like this??????? & to finally have her!! But she is not here IN FRONT OF ME FOR ME TO HAVE AS THE BESTEST BESTIE EVER??? IT SHOULD BE A SIN PUNISHABLE BY INSTANT LIGHTNING STRIKE DEATH FROM GOD HIMSELF JKHHJHJHDJBSHDJHJ 👹😭🤬💔💔 LIKE I AM- FEENING FOR THIS ☝🏾 FRIENDSHIP EXACTLY GRUUURAGAHAGAAAAAAGHHHH

Like why are you not here in front of me rn?? WHy, *chokes* do you not live across from me in my lil ghetto ass neighborhood where the only thing that'd motivate me to go outside is you calling to me from my window?? Like it's not fair it simply isn't fair as a matter of fact, i think it's racist that we aren't irl friends like and ALL OF THIS DURING O U R MONTH likeeee. *sucks teeth* seems sketchy to me bro 😤💔 [I continue to ramble if only to shield the sounds of my heart shattering quite loudly in the background]

THE TUBI PART DID IT FOR ME 😭😭 HOW DO YOU KNOW I'VE SEEN THE CRUDDY REITERATIONS OF THE MONKEY KING??? I'd palette it MUCH more easier if it were you watching it with me instead of my parents :'')) I'm the type to crack up obnoxiously during movies and shows - our chaotic energy would bounce of e/o seamlessly and we'd be our own movie fr 🎬🤣

I ain't no gamer but I'd do it for you bookie. even if the opps did get us in the end. we did our best, trust 😞✊🏾 magic of friendship always prevails, feel me?

And !! Girl !! Black girl hair knowledge 😍💅🏾✨ AAAAAAAAAA!!! FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR IT SJDKDJ (/ns btw ksjsjsj just as a forewarning 😭😭💀 you get me girl) PLEASEEE I don't have thoroughly kinky hair, since i'm mixed so i never got the whole concept of it and anytime I'm bein made aware of afro-centric hair care i EAT THAT ISH UPPPPPPP. u're my new knowledge plug. like, this was edumacational. AND HONESTLY I THINK YOU HELPED ME TOO??? 🤣 I get reeeally bad buildup sometimes but I think it's because I air dry my hair, not really much at all!! :')) yes yes i know, cue the screams of horror. 💀 I SWEARRRR I'M LEARNING AND GROWING I JUST NEED TO USE MY BLOWDRYER JKJKS

AAAAAAAA we'd dye our hair together!!! 😍 that's honestly such a cute color combo, wholly underrated !! my tenderheaded self, but I'm a sucker for people stroking my hair/head bcuz it rarely happens nowadays 😭

sitting in comfortable silence? casual healthy platonic affection? posting up when you tryna start somethin with them pokes and tickles?? 😔✊🏾 yes please yes to all of it.

fr tho you can catch this fade if you keep tryin me bbygirl i be screeching like a banshee jsjsjsjss

UGHGHHHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHH the ✨positive reaffirmations and 🩷verbalization of love🩷✨

Like this a whole dream.

,,,real images of me caught in 8K UHD surround sound 32 Gigs ram, HDR GEFORCE RTX, TI-80 texas instruments, Triple A duracell battery ultrapower 100 Cargador Compatible iPhone 1A 5 W 1400 + Cable 100% 1 Metro Blanco Compatible iPhone 5 5 C 5S 6 SE 6S 7 8 X XR XS XS MAX GoPro hero 1 2 terabyte xbox series x Dell UltraSharp 49 Curved Monitor - U4919DW Sony HDC-3300R 2/3" CCD HD Super Motion Color Camera, 1080p Resolution Toshiba EM131A5C-SS Microwave Oven with Smart Sensor, Easy Clean Interior, ECO Mode and Sound On/Off, 1.2 Cu. ft, Stainless Steel HP LaserJet Pro M404n Monochrome Laser Printer with Built-in Ethernet (W1A52A) GE Voluson E10 Ultrasound Machine LG 23 Cu. Ft. Smart Wi-Fi Enabled InstaView Door-in-Door Counter-Depth Refrigerator with Craft Ice Maker GFW850SPNRS GE 28" Front Load Steam Washer 5.0 Cu. Ft. with SmartDispense, WiFi, OdorBlock and Sanitize and Allergen - Royal Sapphire Kohler K-3589 Cimarron Comfort Height Two-Piece Elongated 1.6 GPF Toilet with AquaPiston Flush Technology:

......,,,, SOmeone should hELP her. 🧍👀

[clears throat and composes myself]

Ahhh, my Chippy Choco Chip girl. You are already such bestie material online, I can only imagine how viscerally that translates to in person :'')))

If I can get a little personal here?? Ever since I was young, I wished and prayed and begged, for a friend. Like, a GOOD friend. A best friend. Someone who'd be there for me and actually want to spend time with me; oh you have no idea how much you healed little me typing this out, Chips (´；ω；｀) Tumblr, our moots as a whole have also healed the little Lilo in me and have simultaneously become my Stitch. :'))

This is the bestest thing I could've received for Valentine's (and yes I'm considering it as my valentine's/galentine's gift from u 🤨 problem?? *chkt chkt* ???..... yeah i didn't think so 😌. thank you.) and I am just. BLESSED. 🙏🏾😫

THANK YOU JESUS. JEHOVAH. GOD. ELOHIM. FOR, AT USER ITSYAGIRLCHIP. MY CHIPPY CHOPPY GIRL.

I love you pookie. ❤❤🫶🏾🫶🏾 Thanks for making me smile so hard my face almost stayed permanently that way today.

[mebemilena]

Not like we have a date with destiny

You met Layla online and her visits to your store became more regular.

---

A/N:

it's been YEARS i don't post anything, just silently reading fanficion around. Gotta relearn how to use Tumblr again. I waited one year to watch Moonknight, always wait for the hype to pass because i know i get hyped too and my poor mind can't really take that. I absolutely loved Layla, that's a fact.

as usual, i'm just trying to exercise my english writing skills. I feel like this was a part of a bigger piece but I can't really develop much. Thank you for reading though. Life's been a bit difficult at times. Lots of anxiety and fear of the future. I wanted to get something light.

i'm starting a series, that's why Sersi is mentioned.

my AO3 link if you'd like to see.

-

You met Layla online. She sent a message to the store you worked at looking for a specific book. You attended her on the phone and she went to the bookstore shortly after, paying in cash.

"You're a lifesaver.", she thanked you.

Soon, her visits to the store became more regular. Layla would take her time to read the back of the covers or arrive with a specific request. You became friends over illustrated books though, specially the ones about ancient culture. You told her about your beliefs and about your own culture, finding it amazing when she shared her own story. There was no denying you had a great connection.

"We should go out for drinks.", Layla invited you. "We only meet when you're working or when I need something work related." she'd insist.

It was true. You had never met in other circumstances and knew very little about each other outside duty, except a few things you could notice by yourself. Layla was an interesting woman, she was gentle and polite. Maybe not very social but very friendly anyway. It wasn't hard to slowly fall for her but of course you decided to keep a safe distance. If she didn't like you like that by any chance, you were not up to spoil the friendship you were developing.

"Let's do it tonight then? It's Friday, tomorrow's my Saturday off", you agreed. Was it too soon?

Layla seemed to think for a moment. Almost like she didn't believe it had been so easy. All she had to do was ask. Simple like that. "Okay.", a smile ghosted her lips and she shook her head, as if getting rid of intrusive thoughts. "It's gonna be fun."

Around 6:30pm, when you had closed the store, Layla appeared by the door. She was supposed to text you her location and you'd meet here but she had other plans. "I thought it'd be nice for us to walk there, it's not far from here.", she explained.

Layla was uncaractheristicaly nervous. She was watching her feet as you walked to the bar and you could sense the thick atmosphere. Was she nervous?

"So, i think we could grab something to eat first.", She finally looked at you. "You know, so that we won't get drunk too fast."

You agreed, as easy as it sounds, and suggested a small cantina you liked. You had some pizza and decided to just try their wine, not wanting to leave the cozy place. You drank and ate and talked for hours, leaving only because the owner came talking to you saying it was time for them to close.

Layla walked you home, the cold air sobering you up way too fast. Your night couldn't end better, though you thought that maybe it could. If Layla kissed you goodnight.

You stood by your doorway and bent goodbye and Layla kissed your cheek when you hugged. It happened a few time after that. You went out for drinks or food, hanging out together for log walks, cultural programs and sometimes to watch movies at each other's place.

You were talking about your romantic life when you mentioned the last mess you got involved in. "She was nice and all. Really. We'd go to the museu, to natural parks. We had fun together, i thought we were fine. But then her ex came along and she just disappeared.", you told her, realizing that it didn't really hurt anymore.

Layla listened to you, giving the attention you deserved. There was a hint of something in her eyes and she smiled. "Just like we do? You seem to have a type.", she said, playfull.

You chocked on your drink.

Layla laughed at your antics and gave you a napkin. She kept looking at you, a smile never leaving her face. "I mean, you said she was a Historian, that she worked with museology, and i'm an archeologist. We both like going out for drinks and trying new food, we're both into ancient culture...", she explained.

Your jaw dropped, you were speechless. Layla looked into your eyes and took a big gulp of her wine before dropping the bomb. "We both have a close relationship with our exes, she told you. "I mean, i just got divorced.", her eyes inspected you for the smallest of reactions.

You felt your heart falling on the floor. If she had just gotten a divorce it meant she probably wasn't ready for any romantic bullshit. Part of you was okay with that, because you liked her a lot and were willing to accept what she had to give you. Another aspect she had in common with Sersi.

The other part of you was catching the bitter taste of rejection.

Layla was waiting for you to say something, you knew that. But there were no words for you to use. She seemed to understand the hint and started talking again. "We are friends though. Kinda.", she cleaned her throat. "We work together sometimes.", she explained and noticed you were still silent, which made Layla start to panic. Was it the wrong time? The wrong words?

She took a deep breath. "I don't know where this is going but i'd love for it to continue.", she smiled, almost shy at herself. You nodded and approached her side of the couch way too slowly , kissing the tip of her nose.

Layla relaxed and smiled larger. She placed her hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the lips.

---

[tstwitterupdates]

Adding in my two sense with the other anons (as someone who's opinions matter like. so little) I feel like it's extra frustrating when he keeps showing he IS capable of getting stuff out in a timely manner, like roleslaying (which I very much enjoy!) Doesn't have insane wait times between and they get multiple seasons worth of shots done in a few days. I know sander sides is a bigger production and I get wanting something you've been working on for so long to be perfect, but teasing it without any actual, substantial updates is like... idk it just seems mean at some point aksgsiajdhdojahdif.

And I am a writer, I have stories that I've worked on for years and aren't done, I've abandoned stories for years only to pick them back up way later, but I'm also not sharing them with anyone (except occasionally my queer platonic partners) and certainly not getting PAID BY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE to keep them up to date. Asides was supposed to help the wait but it became essential viewing and full production instead of fun one offs, all actual small fun videos are merch plugs. This is long and probably doesn't make much sense, you also don't have to post it if you don't want to, but I dunno I have thoughts and wanted to get them out :p

I dunno, I enjoy the series and the other videos, I just feel like at some point along the line he got burn out for sander sides and instead of saying that he just kept talking about the characters to keep us interested (and because I do think he genuinely likes them, they're his ocs and he's clearly fond of them) and now only has the motivation to film stuff for the sides when he's being paid MORE to do it by merch drops.

( somehow this blog every once in a while becomes a safe space for people to vent their criticisms on anon haha which is fine i know we all need it sometimes, just funny how it keeps happening. i guess it’s inevitable when the blog is about video updates. oh well. don’t forget to block # ts criticism if you don’t want to see this stuff! )

yeah like i understand that even if they are capable of producing a video in a few days it doesn’t mean that that should be the standard for every single one. makes sense that some scripts and effects and stuff will take longer than others, and they can’t be at maximum productivity all the time. however.. having these small things done quickly once every few months doesn’t sound so bad? but i don’t know i don’t know i have no experience with this.

like they definitely have the money, equipment and staff for the production and post production of a video to go somewhat smoothly, so i think the problem is that the planning and scripting are just too hard because it’s just way too ambitious now for every single sanders sides episode, including asides. hope they realize not every video has to be dealing with intrusive thoughts to be good enough but who knows.