#tried to nap it out only to wake up more numb and sluggish than ever

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

Turns out getting the election results at a Janelle Monáe concert was exactly what I needed after spending the entire weekend feeling like absolute garbage because of the threat of fascism.

Now hopefully my brain can focus on something else and I can finally answer those asks from friday. Sorry for the delay, I was feeling so full of despair and dread, even writing porn couldn't distract me from it.

(Note for everyone who asked for 🐙: this wip is a mess and I don't know where I'm going with it so it might take a bit longer, but it's coming, I promise!)

[minahoeshi]

you were loved the most the most of all.

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader | breakup angst

Summary: You should've known that when Ushijima Wakatoshi found it easy to fall in love with you, it might be even easier for him to fall out of it. But who expects the worst when it comes to loving someone as seemingly perfect as him, anyway?

Chapter 1 of 2

Chapter 2 of 2

Middle schooler Ushijima Wakatoshi was already more special than the kids around him. This, he was made to believe. It’s not exactly like it was wrong either. When a child is raised the way he was, with so much support that it’s suffocating, one can only grow to be good at what they were told they were meant to be doing. Volleyball as a toddler was meant for the happier times, a memory locked away as nothing but a feeling of nostalgia, never to be completely remembered again. Volleyball as a middle school player was an endless beginning, the very first point of a journey with no real possible end. Volleyball as one of the best among kids of his age, proven by the strength his high school team was known for and the fact that he was already on the world stage as well, could only ever spur him on to keep the momentum. Keep climbing, he would be reminded. Never stop. That’s how you reach the peak. Whether he would break after all that or rise to the very top was never even a matter of discussion. The way to the top was the only one there was. Looking back down and allowing himself to just freefall until the top becomes a distance almost crossed but never reached wasn’t ever an option. Wakatoshi could only ever aim for the very peak.

So, Wakatoshi, how’s volleyball as a pro?

The feeling of a dream-come-true that never was a dream, he might say. But him and sentimental descriptions simply didn’t really mix much. You were the one filled to the brim with those kinds of words. Maybe flowers laced the walls of your chest, maybe when God kicked Adam and Eve out of Eden, he left the garden to grow and flourish within your lungs, maybe you unknowingly raised every single Godly creation and so you were blessed with the power to create as well. You were full of flowery words, that’s what he knows. He would listen to every single one of them, count every petal, water every plant, kiss every one of them in their full bloom, and watch as sunlight filtered orange sets on all that you are. He’s always liked plants. But yours were his favourite.

So he wonders why the point where he could no longer listen to your words had to come. Why he looked at you and only felt the kind of fondness that comes with familiarity but not exactly love. Why the way your hands entwined with his no longer fills his chest with warmth. Why the abyss he spent trying to fill before you arrived (and made him realise maybe empty spaces were never meant to be filled to feel full but instead filled to feel warm) now feels extremely cold again. So maybe things like love do end. And maybe he made promises too soon.

So maybe when you told him about your mother and father and about how they made promises too but couldn’t come through, and when Wakatoshi thought you won’t ever be the same, he was wrong. Maybe one of them realised letting go when love no longer feels the same is better than letting their hands stay entwined when there’s only numbing coldness left to be felt. So maybe it’d do you better for him to let things end. From this point onwards, whatever he does will only ever hurt you. Because you crave the kind of affection that won’t ever end, and how he wish he could keep giving that to you, but he just no longer can. And staying with him who, for whatever fucked up reason the cosmos came up with, can no longer find the love he spent years sharing with you, is something he would never wish upon you.

This fucking hurts. How he fucking wants to keep loving you. What the hell happened?

After you left, Wakatoshi skipped training. He felt bad for eating the omelette when you cooked it to wish him luck. But he ate it anyway, wondering if he will ever see you again. And if so, will he feel find himself feeling the way he used to? And if yes, would you want that?

How do feelings work anyway?

--

You get to work right away. Still feeling heavy and hurt, sobbing at times, you keep collecting Wakatoshi’s things from your apartment. There were a lot. You were both comfortable with sharing your spaces with each other anytime you both wanted. Sometimes leaving things behind caused problems like that time Wakatoshi left his jersey in your apartment and only realized on the day of a game. You had to head to the gym earlier than you usually do, thankfully having washed the clothing a few days before. It’s actually there again, you find. His Schweiden Adler jersey in your closet among the pile of his other shirts and pyjamas. You put all that and other things into a box and close it up. For now, you’ll clean your place and get some sleep. You slept late last night and you woke up too early. Dealing with lack of sleep and the taxing feelings of ache after a breakup was too much. You were exhausted.

The moment you lie on your bed, you feel yourself falling asleep. And then you do. World gone.

You wake up at around lunch and take a short shower. You dress up, carry the box of Wakatoshi’s stuff, head out, lock your door, and go on your away to Tendou’s chocolate shop. You weren’t friends with him before you met Wakatoshi. So, you guess, maybe this will be the last you see him too. When people lose others, they either prefer to keep remembering or completely forget. For your sake, you’d rather be the latter.

Tendou’s shop isn’t close enough to the train station. You have to walk a few more minutes before you reach it. The box you’re carrying isn’t exactly heavy but you still feel sluggish even after that nap. You stop by a café to gather your wits and rest a bit. When you meet Tendou, you know he’ll greet you brightly. Toshi wouldn’t have told him that you broke up just yet. You realised long ago that unless asked by people, Toshi would rather not say anything most of the time. His silence was one you grew used to. Now you have to get used to not being around it anymore.

When you enter the chocolate shop, you see his red hair behind the counter right away. Quite the opposite of Wakatoshi, he’s lively and loud when he wants to be. Like right now, as he’s talking to a costumer, excitedly helping them choose one of the products they’re looking for. You wait until he’s done, just sending him a wave when he sees you, smiling. When the costumer leaves, you head for the counter and place the box you’ve been holding on top pf it.

Loudly, as you expected, he says, “hello! What brings you here? Haven’t seen you in like, three days, I think? You need anything? Where’s Wakatoshi-san? He’s not with you? Why?”

His barrage of questions won’t be left unanswered. But first, you nudge the box toward him. “Uhm, yeah, haven’t seen you in days. I… uhm, I’m here to ask you to do something. Related to Toshi-kun, of course, and well, why he’s… not, uhm, here…? With me?”

You stutter a lot mainly because you don’t exactly feel like announcing that Wakatoshi broke up with you. Tendou simply seems extremely excited to see you and even hopeful to see his best friend too but right now, you just feel like crying all over again It’s like you just can’t run out of tears. You just know that after this, you’ll go home and sob the rest of the day away. Breaking up with Wakatoshi hurt you a lot.

The redhead urges you on, concern beginning to appear on his face. What with the way you’re stuttering and fidgeting when you’re usually so comfortable around him and other people, it’s easy to tell that you’re not feeling too well. Clearly, something must have happened between you and Wakatoshi.

“So… we… kind of broke up…?” the lack of certainty in your voice makes it seem as though you’re still unsure if things really did end between you and the pro-athlete you’ve spent years with. But with the way Wakatoshi told you his reasons for breaking up last night, and how he didn’t want to keep hurting you because you’ve already talked to him about two other people who met and fell in love and did many things and yet still fell out of it but tried to hold on for too long that they ended up tearing each other down until even their daughter started to break with them until it’s just one tiny family with sharp shards for hearts, only capable of hurting each other and nothing more (some daughters grow up wanting to be anything but their mothers and fathers). Of course, Wakatoshi never mentioned that story, but you both knew that when he said he knows he can only really hurt you even more if he lets things run as they always did, he meant, we’re not your parents. We won’t tear each other down. If you go now, you’ll be okay enough to not be the person you’ll come to hate.

The only thing you allow Tendou to know is that you and Wakatoshi are no longer dating and that you’re both okay with it. You leave it at that, and when Tendou gives you a hug, the pain in your chest runs up your throat and you start crying again but that’s alright because Tendou reminds you that you’re sad and hurt and crying makes sense and crying helps and crying is fine and maybe crying makes it hurt a little bit less. He pats your back and says nothing after that, simply letting you calm down.

Before you leave, you purchase a few sweets because Tendou told u it’ll help. Chocolates and sadness work too well with each other.

–

The last time Wakatoshi remembers talking to you was around a year after your breakup. He and his team known to be one of the bests of Japan lost against the bests of Argentina in the Olympics. The world stage wasn't a strange new world to him and neither was loss, but for the first time in many years, the man found himself burdened by the weight of too many regrets.

He knew then that maybe it wasn't exactly losing against Argentina that made him feel this way. Maybe the emptiness he so desperately filled by pouring too much of his days into training and playing was finally there to break him. Maybe the whole time he was thinking he was getting there, not knowing where, only hoping to keep going because he just doesn't know where he can stop to lay his pieces down, he was only distracted enough to not miss the warmth you brought with you which you took with you when he broke your heart. And so when he lost that game, he questioned what could possibly keep him going. When does this journey end? Until when must he keep going? His parents never told him when he was younger. All this time, he only knew to keep forward. Now that he has won one too many games and finally lost one of the most important games he could play, he finds himself wondering if he should stop here now.

And because you knew him too much, you just had to, you know, be that rock that kept him steady even after he hurt you. He went and broke your heart for reasons he himself still cannot really explain, like how the fuck he knew he was no longer in love with you, and why the fuck is he still missing you, and is God playing with him right fucking now? So you just had to call him when he was all alone in his hotel room, mind messed up in so many ways. Your voice just to had to be there. To tell him, you did so well today. To be honest, I haven't watched much of your games recently but I felt like I just had to watch this one. And it was so awesome. It makes me wanna start watching you play again. You're amazing, Wakatoshi-kun. I'm so proud of you.

And then a year later, Wakatoshi finds out that you finally published the novel you’ve been working on since way before he met you. In the first message you sent him, you attached a picture of your book, saying, look at the name on the cover. are you proud of me yet? I am too<3. Better grab yourself a copy before there's none left, right? He couldn't say for sure why you decided to message him about it. It wasn't like you stayed in contact, both of you aware of how much you preferred not facing the past if you had the choice. That time after he lost against Tooru Oikawa's team in the Olympics and you gave him a call was because you're just that kind. You're just that amazing.

But like many things he'll never understand, he just lets this one be. So what if you told him about your book? He should be thankful enough that you even decided to tell him about it. So he goes and buys a copy and reads it as soon as he gets home. It's not like he's big on reading. But he just really likes your words.

Epilogue

...and if someday we find ourselves in a universe where soulmates are filled to the brim with not only stardust but also pure serendipity, I wonder what kind of mark we would have. I kinda wish it'd be that one where ink on my skin gets inked on yours too. Then maybe it'd be so much easier to tell you all the secrets I've been trying to keep. Like how I spent too many years regretting not succumbing in that green lake back home or how sometimes I bleed all over in red angry lines running down like red angry tears, and how much you made me just want to live because you just made me feel loved the most of all. Because maybe you were my finallyfinallyfinallyfinally before you were my whywhywhywhywhywhy.

The End

A/N

Hello. I deeply feel how flawed this fic is but that's fine. I'm still learning how to write stories because I've been writing prose more than anything else. So stories like this do kinda scare me. But I still hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading it!!!!

also, not proofread. it's p hard for me to reread my own works so im v sorry for any mistakes and stuff. if u find any mistakes and whatnot pls pls pls tell me. thats all i hope u enjoyed this v much shouldve stayed in the drafts fic. mwa!

taglist:

@lordmypantsaresocool

@annoyingpessimist

@ushijimacentral

[evolutionsvoid]

She had tried to live her life just like every other normal person, but it seemed that the universe despised her existence.  Ever since the beginning, life wasn't fair and fate wasn't kind. She had come from a broken family, a home filled with misery and regret. When she was young, she hated her mother for what she put her through. For all the sorrow and pain that seemed to fill every corner of the house. For the longest time she wished that her mother would just die, so that all the misery could come to an end. When fate listened to her words, however, she found no peace or relief. The one thing she had in this world was now gone, and she was cast into a cruel sea. Though she was now alone, tragedy and betrayal were never far behind. Whatever happiness she sought, she would never find. Whatever home that greeted her, would inevitably cast her out. Even as she grew older, the hand of fate continued to grind her beneath its thumb. No one would welcome her into their doors, and no one would come to bring her comfort. She was an outcast, a victim of the world that people pitied but then quickly forgot. Life was agony to her, and she wished for the slightest bit of relief. Perhaps it was this wish that placed her before that bizarre object. A strange thing found in the discarded, unwanted corners of life. When she placed the odd trinket around her neck, she found a sudden peace. A calmness of the mind that she had never known. For the first time in her life, the pain was gone and the haunting memories were locked away. With this new found serenity, she could at last work to help improve her lot in life. To finally have the strength to take the punches fate dealt and continue forward with uncaring determination. Though this change did not mean she was instantly flooded with money and love, it did mean that she finally had control. Or so she thought. Little did she know that the memories and pain did not simply vanish, but instead were driven so deep down inside her that she would never find them. Cast into a bottomless pit that hid within. The calmness granted to her by the necklace kept her ignorant to this black hole, which she took as a blessing. This gift, however, turned foul when the yawning pit began to consume more than just misery and regret. Other memories began to fall, and her emotions slowly drained away into the endless void. Peace turned to apathy, then to lethargy. She no longer could even find the drive or care to leave her bed, as the weight of this emptiness began to crush her. Even the beloved necklace grew heavy on her neck, weighing her down more and more. In time, she was bound to Sloth's Chain and was fully lost to the uncaring void. What remains of her now is little more than a living statue. A monolith of flesh and stone, forever standing still. No thoughts or cares exist in her mind, as she doesn't even have that. The only evidence of life she has is the slow, heavy sound of her breath, and the occasional lull of her useless limbs. This mindless construct stands vigil within a city of stone, a land consumed by her draining power. Though she has no claws or fangs, or great weapons to slay and intimidate, she easily devours any who dare walk into her lifeless home. From her body emanates an infectious apathy, which permeates every frozen structure and carcass. Those who walk within the range of her power will begin to feel a slight numbness in their body. It will only be just a little bit, hardly enough for one to worry over. In time, though, the numbness will sink deeper into the flesh and the mind. The traveler will soon forget why they entered this city or what they were doing, though such forgetfulness will not concern them in the slightest. As they continue to soak in her aura, thoughts and cares for the future will fade, and they shall grow quite tired. They will not worry at all about this sudden bout of lethargy, as they shall believe that they just need a little nap. When they wake up, then they will do something about all this. Sadly, if they do succumb to this sleep, they shall never wake. During their slumber, the rest of their mind will be sucked from their body, pulled into her hollow shell. Slipping into a coma, they shall sleep for days and weeks, their flesh and clothes slowly hardening into stone. In time, they shall become like the many statues that litter the streets and homes, frozen figures empty of all life and care. All that dwell within this dead land shall succumb to her power, as even the grass and water have become like stone. Many fear her power, despite the fact she does not move or hunt for souls. Perhaps it is the odd fact that she somehow still claims victims, despite the many warnings and dangers. Some may be warriors who come to slay the beast, but quickly forget their mission and become one with the city. Some may be thrill seekers or travelers, who seek to see the frozen city with their own eyes. Or maybe her power extends past the stony fields of grass, drawing in weak minds with promises of peace and calm. One can never know the how or why, as she had lost those simple concepts long ago...               ---------------------------------------------- Just one more artifact of the sins to go! Sloth had to be the toughest one to develop, as I didn't want to go with the basic fat and sluggish looking creature route. What helped was the fact that sloth doesn't just mean "lazy," but it can also mean "uncaring" and "unfeeling." So I figured something stone-like would do the trick! Speaking of stones, I took this opportunity to use the design of my Stone of Madness for this one!

[themalicealyce]

Sarcasm and Puns: Chapter Eight

Summary: You're an introverted person, have been all of your life but it wasn't as if you were shy, you were just content to have your only friends be your brother and your roommate. Though when your brother's young daughter makes friends with the human ambassador of monsters you open up to the idea of having a larger group of friends.

Rating: M

"Hey loser I got soda!" you called out in to you quiet apartment.

You toed off your shoes as soon as you crossed the threshold, tossing you messenger bag onto the floor alongside them. Hemlock lazily looked up from where he was napping on the couch and meowed at you in greeting before putting his head back down neatly on top of his folded paws, drifting back to sleep.

"You're the loser." came Vincent's childish retort from his room through the slightly cracked open door.

You snorted at the answer, rolling your eyes as you went into the kitchen to fish out the rum. Vincent soon joined you, standing on his tip toes to pull two glasses down from the cabinet. You watched him for a moment as he struggled to reach them off a tall shelf, before he managed to get them down with a huff.

"So how was it?" he asked as he moved around you to the freezer.

"Surprisingly fun. I think this is yours by the way." You reached into your pocket and tossed the bag of glitter at him as he set the cups down on the counter, rolling your eyes at him as you began to pour the drinks.

He pouted, feigning distress. “Awww, no fun you found it before anyone could use it.”

Your phone beeped, and you ignored him in favor of checking the alert. Pulling up your messages there was a new one from Papyrus. You paused in pouring to read it.

'HUMAN NOVA! NYEH HEH! I HOPE YOU MADE IT HOME WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE! FROM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!' you smiled at the cute message and showed it to Vincent before sending a quick reply letting him know you were home.

"Wow." Vincent remarked now taking the drink you offered him. “Does he actually talk like that? Also, please don’t tell me you’re getting more people drawn into all of your spy nonsense." He sighed before taking a sip of his drink and immediately making a face at the taste.

"One, yes, and he's a total sweetheart. Two, you refuse to call my cat by his proper name, but code names are ‘nonsense’?" you answered with a question, taking a swig of your own drink having a much easier time with it than your lightweight friend.

“Touché.” Vincent shrugged taking another tiny sip of his drink, still scowling at the bitter taste on his tongue even as he moved towards the living room.

"Oh, and he's an incredibly tall skeleton man." you shrugged as if it was totally normal, following him into the other room. Vincent looked up at you with wide curious eyes, now far more interested. "Really? That's so cool! Do I get to meet your new friends?" he said the last word playfully, taunting your lack of a social circle.

"Totally dude." you answered enthusiastically, ignoring his tone. “I’m basically going to force you to.”

You both settled on the couch as you told him all about Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, and Toriel, drinks steadily disappearing. Eventually you put the topic aside and the two of you switched to watching campy old scifi movies, taking breaks to make fun of the hokey acting or dated effects.

"Oh my god, listen to how young NPH sounds in this." Vincent giggled to himself when the late 90’s ‘so bad it’s good’ classic started.

"I know right? He’s such a sweet baby." you nod back in a drunken imitation of sage approval, turning back to the screen only to cheer with a slight slurring in your voice, "Get it kids, crush those bugs!"

Vincent snorted only to recoil seconds later. "Holy shit that lady's laugh is demented!" he winced.

The two of you fell comfortably back into the familiar routine of talking over the movie, making your own comments and jokes. A few drinks and another movie in, you were somehow back on the topic of the monsters you met that night. Vincent was only half-heartedly listening to you ramble as he sleepily leaned against your shoulder with the odd light of some sort of laser fight casting off of the tv.

“Mmmmmhmmmm.” Was his response to whatever nonsense you were repeating over and over in your hazy state.

You frowned at his disinterest when a sudden thought came to you. “I’m gonna text ‘em.” You said aloud, though not really to anyone, as you patted around you in a vague search for your phone.

“Nooo.” He whined through a yawn curling into a ball on the couch. “No drinkin’ and textin’.” He warned sleepily, but his eyes never opened, and his breathing steadied.

He was unable to stop you, and you weren’t about to take advice from a passed-out person anyway. You rolled your eyes, you were fine to text. Right? Oh well, by the time you found your phone your mind was already made and there was no going back. You opened your messages, finding your previous conversation with Papyrus close to the top so you clicked on it. You stared down intently at the little on-screen keyboard for a moment wondering how you ever used it, it was way to small to type quickly on. You managed to navigate the way to small keyboard though and send a message.

‘Paps spagetti and hang?’ it read along with your address.

When he didn’t immediately reply you looked at the time, noticing the hour you shrugged, he was probably asleep. Instead you found your way to your laptop, because music never sounded like a better idea.

You aren’t sure how long you stayed up that night, but you couldn’t have been asleep long when the thunderous knocking from the door startled you awake. You left your room in time to see Vincent flail wildly as he rolled off of the couch hitting the floor with a thud that made you wince. Even Hemlock yowled annoyed from somewhere, though you didn’t see him. You were a bit sluggish and disoriented but over all thankful for your lack of hangover because the noise right now would be killing you. Your roommate’s groan reinforced your point as he curled in on himself trying to shield his eyes and ears instead of moving from his spot on the floor.

“Who the hell could that be?” you croaked, finding your mouth dry and your throat sore.

“Don’ care. Answer. Neighbors.” Vincent managed to get out reminding you that you indeed do live in an apartment building that didn’t have the thickest of walls and it must be early in the morning.

“Coming!” You cried frantically trying to appease the knocker into momentary silence as you nearly stumbled backwards in your attempt to move towards the door, your legs weak and numb. There was a short pause, a moment of reprieve as you forced your legs to work, but it didn’t last long. Too quickly the loud rapping at the door continued. You moved to the door as quick as you could manage with your sluggish limbs protesting all the way and threw open the door with as much power as your tired, groggy body could muster.

Behind the door you found the tall form of Papyrus stopping his fist mid-knock. His face lit up at the sight of you.

"GOOD MORNING HUMAN!" the familiar booming voice greeted. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ARIVED READY TO HANG!” He beamed, undeterred by the confusion on your face. Instead he peeked in behind you at you messy living room, still cluttered from last night’s fun.

You were suddenly very aware of your tangled hair and rumpled clothing, what a mess you must be. "I as-" you cleared your painfully dry throat and tried again. "I asked you to come over?" only vaguely remembering texting him last night.

"OH YES, I RECEIVED YOUR REQUEST FOR QUALITY TIME WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS! Even though your spelling needs some work. AND CAME BRIGHT AND EARLY TO SHARE THE BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE OF BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI!" Papyrus answered nodding eagerly.

A neighbor pounded on a shared wall and you heard the muffled "Shut the fuck up!"

"Please no more yelling." Vincent whined, repeating the sentiment but much nicer.

Remembering last night a little more clearly you replied, “Oh yeah, I remember. Sorry it must have been really late.” You cringed at your drunken self.

“OH IT IS FI-“ He started speaking again in his loud over-eager tone and desperate to make it stop you placed a finger to his teeth shushing him gently.

"Too early, it’s quiet time for building." you chided softly not removing your finger until he nodded in understanding.

“It is fine, it didn’t wake me, however I was very excited to see it this morning.” Papyrus continued on as if you never interrupted him, but at a much more manageable, inside voice.

You finally noticed that he was carrying an armful of grocery bags that you took from him stepping away from the door to allow him in. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be back in just a minute I just woke up." you gestured to your obvious sleep rumbled appearance. "Oh, and that's my roommate Vincent." you added as you passed the couch on your way to the kitchen to set the bags down.

You dropped the bags off and grabbed some painkillers for your whimpering roommate. You decided to fix a cup of water and take a couple of sips to soothe your throat before you headed back to your room to make yourself slightly more presentable, tossing Vincent the bottle on the way. You looked wistfully toward the bathroom, briefly considering going through the effort of showering, but you didn’t have the luxury of time. You didn’t want to make your guest wait longer than necessary so instead you opted to get clean and changed as quickly as you could. After a bit of searching you threw on the first clean black t-shirt you found and some simple jeans and zipped a jacket up over your them for good measure. You then did what you could to tame your matted bed head before just tying it back into its usual loose ponytail and brushed your teeth quickly.

You came back into the living room, which was dimmer than it was before, probably in an attempt to appease Vincent's hangover. You saw he must have been doing a bit better because he was holding your small black cat up to the skeleton and talking to him softly, but happily. As you got closer you could hear the conversation.

"This, O Great Papyrus, is Sir Hemsworth. He nearly died valiantly to obtain this title, so he respectfully urges you to refer to him as such." Vincent was basically preaching, and you groaned.

Papyrus, however, looked enthralled by whatever fantasy story your roommate was weaving about your rescue kitten. It made you want to flip on all the lights in the room just to spite him and his headache.

Instead you just crossed your arms and mad your presence known. "His name is Hemlock." you intoned. You knew you were fighting a losing battle over your cat's name, and it wasn't going to get any better if he brings Papyrus over to his side.

Somehow Papyrus’s expression managed to mimic a pout without even lips, you were again impressed with his expressiveness with the lack of muscles or skin. You relented to him with a long-suffering sigh. “You can call him Hemsworth if you want.” You said barely suppressing the need to roll your eyes. You watched as Papyrus’s expression immediately lifted and he took the kitten into his own arms. "It is very nice to meet you Sir Hemsworth, as I am sure you are exceedingly delighted to meet me." He cooed as Hemlock allowed himself to be coddled, lapping up to the attention like the lazy, spoiled cat he was. He rubbed his small head against Papyrus’s sweater covered ribs purring absently. Papyrus looked awed as he reverently petted Hemlock who was allowed to crawl all over his new friend.

You took the peaceful moment as a chance to check your phone, finding several enthusiastic texts from Papyrus responding to your cringe worthy drunk text. Quickly clicking away from those you checked the rest of your messages finding one from Alphys asking what anime shows you've seen so she could start planning what to bring to your inevitable viewing party and one from Toriel telling you that she had fun at dinner and hoped to see you again soon. You were responding to the texts when you felt Hemlock rub against your legs, causing you to look up, sensing the serene moment was just about over. Papyrus was starting to fidget with impatience, though he looked too timid to break the quiet. You felt a little bad for your earlier bluntness with him. You wondered if you could have handled keeping the peace in your apartment building any better. Slipping your phone in your pocket, you vowed to make it up to him and get that happy, hopeful look back on his face.

“Are you ready for my famous breakfast spaghetti?” Papyrus’s voice eager, but still keeping his quieter tone.

“Yep, ready whenever you are.” You said with a smile, growing excited now that you were more awake.

He instantly bounced back with new energy, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you towards the kitchen. You shrugged back at Vincent as you let the skeleton manhandle you again, stifling a giggle. Vincent responded by scooping the cat up from the floor and held him up by his front legs, waving gently with his little paw as you disappeared into the next room.

Cooking with Papyrus turned out to be more fun than you thought it would be. In the kitchen he seemed more in his element and his volume slowly but surely crept back up to familiar levels, but you barely even noticed through your own boisterous laughter. Vincent had eventually come into the room to sit on the counter and joke over the enthusiastic, verging on violent, manner of cooking Papyrus had coaxed you into. It felt like you were a kid playing in the kitchen at Papyrus’s side smiling and going along with his instructions, even when you would turn the heat down behind his back or insist he use a cutting board. To be fair, the food the two of you made would still likely end up mostly inedible, but that didn’t matter much to you as you and Papyrus flitted around in a blur of activity.

“You are very lucky to have found a friend like THE GREAT PAPYRUS to teach you how to masterfully craft such a dish! Maybe with a bit of practice you too could be as great of a chief as I! Well, maybe not quite as good as me, but very close I am sure!”

“We’re friends?” you asked giddy smile dropping for a moment, unsure.

“WELL OF COURSE WE ARE FRIENDS! You invited me over to your home, and we bonded over my clearly amazing skill in the culinary arts.” He paused for a moment seemingly studying your facial expressions. “WE SHARED GENUINE COMPLIMENTS!” He gestured emphasizing his statements sounding amazed by all of it.

You bit you lip trying to keep yourself reigned in, but it was no use. You couldn’t help but launch excitedly at him wrapping his lanky skeletal form in a tight hug. “I’m really glad you want us to be friends.” You muttered against him trying not to sound too emotional.

Papyrus stiffened as if he didn't know what to do with your sudden attack of affection, but he soon relaxed into your grip and patted the top of your head like one would do to a child. You could hear Vincent snort of laughter from his perch on the counter, but you pointedly ignored him as you slowly disentangling from the embrace.

You turned on your heels to playfully glare at your roommate. Vincent rolled his eyes in an overly dramatic gesture of exasperation but couldn’t keep up the act and instead stuck his tongue out at you teasingly.

“Way to ruin a moment.” You said in a mock annoyed tone.

“Too gushy, emotions are gross.” Vincent said back immediately, hardly having to think about it as you two easily fell into playful bickering.

The banter was cut off when a phone rang in the kitchen, you instinctively reached for your pocket before you saw Papyrus retrieve his own and smile apologetically before answering it. As he held the phone up to his skull in imitation of where a human’s ear would be you scooted closer to Vincent trying to give your guest at least the illusion of privacy.

It was hard to not pay attention as the conversation was more like a quick shouting match. It had no anger behind, but it was full of energy with Papyrus gesturing wildly even though the person on the other end couldn’t see him.

“I hate to run but I have a training session with Undyne!” He announced as he pocketed his phone.

“Training?” you questioned curiously.

Instead of an answer you were lifted from the ground and swung in a circle by Papyrus’s crushing hug. “I MUST LEAVE BUT I WILL BE SURE TO SEE YOU AGAIN HUMAN FRIEND.”

You let out a slightly choked chuckle. “Hard to breathe.”

He dropped you instantly and you crumpled to the ground with a small thud. He scratched at the back of his skull sheepishly as his cheekbone faintly glowed an orange color. “My apologies.” He muttered offering you a hand to help you up.

“’S fine, just warn a girl next time.” You shrugged pulling yourself of the floor with his help. “I’ll talk to you later, go have fun.” You shooed him blithely.

Papyrus nodded easily and left the apartment in a whirlwind of excitement to get to his training session, whatever that entailed, leaving you and Vincent in your mess of a kitchen. In his wake you and your roommate stared at the ruined dish of horribly over-cooked pasta you created. The silence felt as though it stretched forever before his stomach rumbled unhappily and yours responded similarly.

“You wanna go out to eat?” He asked.

“Yeah, there’s a new place I want to check out.” You answered already looking up Grillby’s on your phone.

[pink-ink-goblin]

Mirror, Mirror

(Welcome to the beginning of the end my friends! This was completely and totally inspired by @endlcss-possibilities imagine. I tried to stay as close as I could to your imagine and feel like I’ve failed miserably in aspects. I also apologize if there’s some choppiness to it. I haven’t written an action driven horror scene in some time, but I hope you all enjoy the cliche, spooky fun nonetheless!)

Chapter 2

Chapter One

It had all been like a dream up until that point, his world nothing but a warm haze of fuzzy, warped halls filled with shadows that seemed to ebb and flow like water. His head felt thick, heavy, making his movements sluggish and automatic as his body guided him slowly away from his room and into a place he was almost intimately familiar with.

A place he knew he should not be.

It had started, as most things often do, with a simple locked door. One that was unassuming and even strangely bland against the lavish decorum that surrounded it. The same one that, naturally, lead to the basement, and when prompted about its locked nature the castle owners confirmed that it was just full of old furniture. Nothing of consequence, and definitely nothing to concern themselves over considering there were more rooms in the whole building than all of them put together. It was an easy explanation, and after being denied the key (in interest of getting a good spooky shot for their project) they forgot the door quickly in favor of eagerly starting to film.

But that was when little things began to slowly make themselves known. They were only a day in and not a single one of them had slept. It was odd, and made things hard to set up, and even more difficult to act around, but easy enough to chalk up to the new, unfamiliar environment. But then it kept happening again and again. It wasn’t long before everyone was exhausted, tempers were flaring, some equipment had broken, and generally afterwards, more often than not, he found himself face down on the den couch, his mind racing but his thoughts too quick to catch.

These were the times when he would make attempts to catch up on sleep, but even just napping was difficult. He wasn’t sure about anyone else, but when he did find sleep, it was only plagued with nightmares and demons that had, on more than one occasion, followed him into the waking world and chased him from his room in blind panic. And to make it worse, he seemed to have taken to sleepwalking.

Sometimes he would come to in the kitchen, leaning against the sink and just staring blankly out the window. Sometimes, he would be outside, at the edge of the pool, one step away from just walking in. But most disturbingly often, he would find himself in the lone hall in the west wing, in front of that locked basement door, one hand on the handle as if about to open it. He wasn’t sure why or what compelled him, but he would always give it a test wiggle before he let go. And every time, it was the same. Locked.

He wasn’t sure anymore if that was comforting, or frustrating.

And now he found himself in the same position again, but this time he was strangely somewhat aware of it. His breaths were slow, barely audible, even in the dead stillness, leaving his parted lips in deep, soft huffs. His eyes, half-lidded and surrounded by the beginnings of dark sleepless circles, stared straight ahead at his goal unwaveringly, his body finally lurching to a stop in the one place he so often found himself during their stay. Right in front of the door.

Except now it was open.

He stared down the stairway that led into the inky abyss absently, hands limp at his sides. There was a hesitation, as if some part of him were somehow still cognizant that this could not possibly be natural, but every red flag that should have popped up at such a sight did not seem to raise, and without warning he found himself walking through, something cold and numb tightening at the base of his skull as he passed the threshold.

It ate away at him like a sickness. A mantra on repeat in his head. He had to know. He needed to know. It had been dominating his waking thoughts, and invading his nightmares. It was all he could ever think about anymore, and the only way to finally shut it up was to find out why.

Each wooden stair creaked dangerously, screaming at him that every step could be his last, as his fingers reached out to brush lightly against the wall where a safety rail should be, feeling but not quite registering the rough gaps in between each wooden beam as he descended. It was such a stark contrast to the well kept upstairs, only adding to the sense of abandonment the basement gave off.

He only knew he was at the bottom when his next step wasn’t met with the aching groan of old wood, his footfalls instead accompanied with the near inaudible patter of his socks on the cool concrete. The air was musty and lukewarm, thick with dust and something else chemical that was lost on him in his half aware state. He had no idea where he was going, yet something compelled him all the same, both guiding him and suppressing all other thoughts. The base of his skull twinged again, sending a cold prickling tingle down his spine, but this time, instead of pressing forward, he paused.

He seemed to be hovering between realities, eyes lost in the middle distance, as if his soul was floating somewhere over his body instead of within, just barely still attached. It left everything surreal, and he swallowed thickly, teetering just on the edge of wakefulness the way one does in a dream just before they start to fall.

THUMP

He came back to awareness with a gasp, going rigid as his tunnel vision expanded and his world bled back into place. His breaths quickened, heart leaping into his throat as he whipped around, suddenly realizing that he was lost in the darkness in the depths of a basement in which he should not even be.

As he back-stepped frantically, he bumped into something large and somewhat rough, pushing off it in fear only to run into something much smaller that he nearly knocked over, the object rocking loudly in the dead stillness as it made wooden taps that grew more rapid and quiet until it settled once more, allowing an unnatural and terrifying silence to reign once more.

As he tried to calm himself, taking deep, steadying breaths only to nearly choke on the stale air, his leg brushed against another object and he felt something shift in his pocket. Reaching in a hand, he joyously realized that he still had his phone, and with a few flicks, his camera light suddenly cut through the darkness, making him shield his eyes at the sudden stinging brightness until they could adjust.  

And when they did, he realized with horror that he stood amidst a sea of white cloth covered objects, somehow smackdab in the center.

He wasn’t sure what to do, frozen by the influx of sensory information his brain tried to process all at once. He wanted to leave, run upstairs and forget everything, but at the same time, he could still feel that damning compulsion pulling in him to know. That deep wonderance within him that choked his thoughts at all hours. The idea that just maybe if he satisfied that curiosity, he could focus on other tasks once more.

It was stupid, he knew, to even consider remaining, and, as he placed a clammy on his pounding temple, it felt like he was fighting that thought much harder than he should need to, the intrusiveness and insistence of it feeling less and less like it had come from him.

And as he fought to decide his fate, he heard the soft hiss of fabric slowly slipping immediately to his left.

Whipping around, he looked just in time to catch sight of the last of the cloth sliding off of the object he almost knocked over, disappearing behind it and momentarily blinding him as something flashed in his vision. When he flinched, turning to shield himself from it, he realized that it had been a reflection of his light, and when he refocused, taking care not to blind himself again, he came face to face with his own reflection on an old antique vanity that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the backstage area of an old Broadway show. It was missing a few bulbs here and there around the somewhat clear mirror, and it looked like it had taken a beating worthy of what generally happened in a backstage area, but it still looked potentially usable if given to the proper person to restore it.

Or as a film prop.

He shook his head. That thought was just asking for trouble. But all the same, he couldn’t shake the potential. There were a million ‘what if’s fighting for dominance in his mind, and before he knew it, he had walked over and grabbed another dust cover at random, giving it a gentle tug.

It fell away slowly, trailing through his fingers until it was completely claimed by the floor. He stepped back to get a better look and realized that it was yet another mirror, but this time it was a full body one, surrounded by light oak and set upon wheels for easy positioning. The mirror had cracked, a few large pieces lost to both time and probably travel, but it still reflected where it could just the same.

He had the presence of mind to wonder about the oddness of it, the out of place and bland look it had in comparison to the grand - and somewhat gaudy - atmosphere the upstairs held. It was curious, but his attention for it was quickly lost as he reached out to grab another cloth next to it.

Suddenly, something curled in the back of his mind, something frigid and clawed, raking nails against the back of his skull with a gentleness unbefitting of such a feeling. He shivered and felt his focus drop, hand falling with it.

It was like something had whispered to him, and yet no words had been exchanged, but he understood it all the same. It seemed to come from a direction, and he blindly allow it to pull him, seeing dark grey shapes pass him in the corners of his eyes as he made his way to the back wall.

Something slowly made itself apparent as he approached, a mess of cloth with something rather flat underneath, and he crouched in front of it, fingers digging in has he took a fist full of musty cloth, and gently pulled it aside.

Another mirror, but nothing like the others.

It was of medium size and, almost Victorian in appearance, set with not one, but five different reflective panels, four of which were of a smaller size in comparison to the main mirror and separated by lines of design. The metal it was encased in was vermeil, old gold-pressed silver with branch and leaf designs that trailed along all sides. It was in pristine condition, not a spot of tarnish to be seen, which was odd given that it seemed no one had been down here to care for it in years. Especially since all the other mirrors easily displayed their own respective wears of time.

As he traced his fingers across the smooth - almost too smooth - patterns, he realized it was probably meant to be hung on the wall, and when he squinted, he could see two nails just above it. It must have been the source of the loud thump he had heard earlier, but how it hadn’t broken from the fall was beyond him.

Setting down his phone so that it shone upward, he gently gripped the sides of the mirror and raised it up, finding it much lighter than he expected it to be. He paused for a moment to look at his reflection, taking in his bed messy hair and the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. He sighed, feeling exhaustion pulling at him just from seeing the way everything was wearing him down.

He let loose a long and tired sigh, reaching up to hook the expensive-looking thing back in its place, and as he stepped back to ensure it was straight, unsure of why he was bothering, he saw something suddenly fly by in the reflection behind him. Something soundless, shapeless, and darker than the black that already surrounded him..

Suddenly more alert than he had been all night, he whipped around frantically, snatching up his phone and shining the light every which way to catch even a glimpse of what that could have been. And when nothing stood out amidst the sea of white sheet covered furniture, he resolved to cover everything back up, get the hell back upstairs and do his best to forget ever coming down there. But when he reached down to grab the protective cover for the vermeil mirror, he heard a rippling noise off to his right, the sound of a moderate breeze rustling one of the covers for only a breath’s time.

“Tyler? Ethan?” Well and truly startled now, his aggression rose to mix with his panic and make him angrily cry, “This isn’t fucking funny!”

He listened hard for anything, footsteps, breaths, giggles, anything to give away his tormentor, but nothing made itself known until he heard a…

Tap tap tap…

It was a gentle sound, almost like a drop of water from a leaky pipe, but no where near as constant. It was sharper than that, and seemed to only come in threes.

Tap tap tap…

Stifling his panicked breaths with his hand, he listened as hard as he could, turning slowly to try and help pinpoint the noise directionally.

Tap tap tap…

As he turned, he noticed it getting more and more distinct until he realized he was facing…

The mirror.

He only got a glimpse of something dark from within the ornate reflection before, with a strangled gasp, he turned and ran for the door. He was on the bottom step when he heard some kind of wind pick up from behind him, flapping all the fabric and rising to whip past him like a storm. He saw the door begin to sway and nearly choked on his heart when he thought it would close. He was inches away, hand reaching for the handle when he felt it.

Something cold wrapped around his ankle.

His scream was interrupted as his chin slammed into the top step, the tug sending him tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs - elbow, knees, back and head slamming into each step - until he rolled to a stop in the middle of the room. He lay on his back, dazed, hurt, and with the sharp taste of iron on his tongue.

As his wits slowly returned to him, he was met with the sound of slipping cloth all around him; something tugging each and every one away quickly and violently. With difficulty, he struggled to sit up just as the last one fell away, revealing the entire room to be filled with nothing but mirrors of all types. Mounted, swiveling, hanging, large, and small…

And every single one was facing him.

He could still hear that tapping growing louder and louder, only now, it was coming from inside all the mirrors, accompanied by a harsh ringing that seemed to come from within his own head.

He rolled to his side, trying to stand when a burning pain in his leg brought him right back down. His breaths came fast and desperate as he looked to his only escape in vain just in time to see it slam closed, taking with it the last of his light.

No one even heard him scream.