#yeah yeah there's scientific basis or whatever but that's what they say about everything ever.

[cramenjoyer]

i love humans bc our medicine gets Better over time, loosely speaking, but it's still insane to actually think about it. like ancient egyptians may have been figuring out cataract surgery in the 1000s bce. meanwhile every morning i have to stop myself from having a delicious glass of lemonade bc the chemicals in citrus fruits will nullify my miraculous potions or something. can't eat untreated raw eggs bc they may contain an invisible evil spirit named salmon ella.

[galaxyedging]

More of Us

Part 5

Series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader (in spirit in this chapter)

This has sat in WIPs since Halloween because I don't love it. I feel like I overshot a fun diversion and went full crack fic. We're all about to be destroyed by Pedro's Joel so maybe we need a bit of absurdity.🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Swearing. Blood. Gore.

"Nope. No. Just no. No fucking way. "The vampire looked at you confused.

"What? What am I missing here?" He eyed you like he didn't know what to make of you.

"No. I just got the news that I may not be completely out of my mind, that the man I thought was from my video game, well, it was the other way round, the video game came from him. I am not ready to believe that Max Phillips exists." Pushing passed him you walked over to the desk, leaning on it your wrapped your arms around yourself in comfort. Trying desperately not to look at the remnants of your captures on the floors, and walls, and ceiling.

"My reputation proceeds me I see." He wore the smuggest smirk you have ever seen.

"No. You are a character from a movie. A vampire comedy. A fungal infection that caused 'zombie like' behaviour? There's a scientific basis for that. That I can accept, but you are trying to tell me that out there somewhere magical vampires exist? Bullshit." With that, Max sunk his fangs into your arm. 

"Ow!" You snatched your arm away from him.

"Did that feel real enough?" He deadpanted.

"Will I become a vampire now?" Panic flowed in your voice. 

"No! It doesn't work like that!" He sounded almost affronted by your lack on knowledge about his kind.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't read the vampire operating manual." He grinned at your sark, showing off that gorgeous smile."How do you even look like him?"

"Like who?" Max asked leaning on the desk next to you.

"The guy who plays you in my world. Even if someone saw you in your world then wrote about it. How did they find someone who looks exactly like you to play you? It's not like a lot of guys look like Pedro Pascal. I know, I've looked." You sighed.

Max chuckled. "Pedro Pascal?"

"Yeah."

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal?" 

"Yes?" 

"That's me."

"What?!"

"That's my name. I changed it. It's hard to get employed by old white men with a name like that on your CV." The vampire bit was ludicrous but the institutional racism was totally believable.

"So these worlds have doppelgangers. I wonder if I'm in your world." You mused.

"I haven't seen you there. I'd remember a pretty little thing like you." He lowered his voice, that voice, all deep and smooth. It was already alluring so you had no idea if he was trying to glamour you or not. Either way it was not happening."You are not flirting with me right now!"

"What? You can't blame a man for tryin', Gorgeous." He winked, actually winked.

"We're trapped in a...whatever the hell this place is, you're covered in blood and..." you flickered your hand towards his body.

"What?" 

"You're naked...and....very 'happy'."

"What can I say? When the blood starts flowing, the blood starts flowing." He stood proudly adopting 'the stance.' 

You had a weird thing for Max's overgrown frat boy persona in fanfiction. Up close, it wasn't as appealing, even though the man himself was. Even covered in blood the sight of him naked was something to behold.

This was all just too much. You were worried for Joel and Ellie. Terrified for your own wellbeing, especially as you'd just been mouthing off to a man who could kill you with a flick of his wrist. Your whole world view was messed up. Everything you thought was fantasy could potentially be reality. It was strange that offered a little comfort, knowing that potentially anything was possible gave this new world a logic to it.

"Are you just going to sit there?" Max's tone was thoroughly bored. "I'd like to get out of here. There's another corridor back there by were I was held. I used to hear them talking about it. I think that's where they brought us through."

"Through?"

"Yeah, some sort of portal."

"A portal? Of course there's a portal. Maybe we're on a spaceship or a helicarrier. Maybe there's a dragon guarding it!" Hysteria started to grip you.

"Maybe." He shrugged. Seeing that you still weren't moving he tried to reason with you. "Look, Sweetheart, I was a normal man once then I turned into a vampire. I didn't tantrum or sulk about it. I used it to my advantage."

"I'm not sulking." You insisted over you pouted bottom lip.

"I'm going if you want to come with me get moving. If not..." he turned and stomped away. 

All broad shoulders, muscular back, leading to...."I'll come with you if you put some pants on."

"Fair. We wouldn't want you getting distracted." He shot you a Cheshire Cat grin before heading out into the corridor. When you caught up to him he was wearing pants...that he had pulled off a pair of legs. The violence you had seen and committed in Joel's world had shocked you, turned your stomach. Yet the two legs on the floor didn't even seem real to you, they were like some macabre Halloween decoration. That and the absurdity of the situation made it so much easier to compartmentalise. Just keep going. The 'decorations' didn't get any lighter towards Max's cell. Body parts were strewn everywhere. Some bodies were frozen in the instant of their deaths, faces contorted in fear or pain, or both. They looked pale and drawn. 

Max saw you staring. "They starved me. I was half delirious. Plus, it was them or me."

He did what he had to. Not too dissimilar from Joel.

"It's just around this corner." He pointed. 

"Wait." You tiptoed over two more corpses. On the belt of one of them was a security pass. It read 'Level 5', you hoped that was the highest they went. Standing back up you took a moment to think about Joel. You wished he was here. You longed for his steady presence, strong and reassuring at your side. Part of you wished he was here to be proud of you. To watch you use the skills you had picked up from him. With everything going on it was a silly thought. Trying to impress the handsome man while trying to escape with your life. A smile tugged at your lips. Joel was open about how you were making him a little dumb, you hadn't realised how much he was affecting you. Here you were practically biting your lip and twirling your hair while up to your knees in gore.

The sudden bang on the door next to you had you flying almost into Max's arms. His hand lingered on your lower back as you recovered from the shock and moved away from him. Transfixed by the face in the round window, you moved slowly back towards it. The face was feral, framed by a thick coat of hair. It's harsh breaths fogging up the glass. It's sharp teeth scraping against it.

"Jack?" You barely whispered.

Max's hearing still picked it up. "He a friend of yours? Or is he from another video game. Like Nintendogs?"

"No." Your tone was suitable incredulous, until it had to trail off for the rest of the sentence. "He's from a Halloween special."

Max laughed heartily. "Of course he is!"

Ignoring him you carried on. "He's human in there, somewhere. We can't let him out like that though. Jack? Jack Russell?"

Max completely lost it. "Jack Russell?!" He laughed out.

Ignoring Max's guffawing you turned to Jack. "Jack? Can you understand me? We can get you out but you need to turn back. Can you do that?" The creature tilted it's head at you. It's eyes, that held so much humanity, flickered in recognition. Raising your hand slowly you lay it on the glass between the two of you, only to be frightened out of your wits by the werewolf trying to bite you.

"Guess he doesn't want his belly rubbed. Can we go now?" Max tapped his foot impatiently.

"I'll come back for you." The dejected promise was drowned out by the sound of boots hitting the concrete floor. Up ahead four soldiers spilled out of a door, taking up a tight formation, they advanced.

"The vampire is expendable. Don't kill the woman." One of them ordered. 

Without thinking you put yourself in front of Max. One of his hands spread across your stomach pulling you flush to him. "I didn't know you cared, Toots." His lips brushed your ears as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine.

With his free hand, he grabbed the belt of one of the dead bodies on the floor, hurling it at the soldiers. Knocking them all to the ground. One of them squeezed the trigger of his gun on instinct as he went down. Bullets sunk into the wall next to them as Max spun you around. With your hands braced on his broad, bare chest and his full lips inches from your face. He turned you both to prove you cover with his broad form. In the heat of the moment, your body betrayed you. A rush of arousal flooded you. Max subtlety sniffed the air, his eyes darkening before he pulled away from you. Lightening fast he snapped the necks of the first two as they begged for their lives. The other soldiers had remained on the ground, one was on his radio, begging for back up. Max crushed the radio along with the man's hand. His howls of pain spurred you to act. "Max! Stop. Don't kill them."

Max's muscles strained to keep him in place. Warring with his own killer instinct, he growled at himself before knocking the guy's head against the wall.  The fourth soldier, a guy barely out of his teens, was muttering a pray under his breath. As Max turned towards him, snarling and barely containing his rage, the young man finally got himself together enough to raise his gun. Max made a grab for it but the soldier got off a couple of shots. One grazed Max's arm. With a pained groan, he raised his arm, bringing his fist down towards the man's head, hard. His fist came to a stop just before it made contact, grabbing the man's head and slamming it against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Max's attention turned to you. His pupils were blown, inhuman growls rose from his chest. He stalked towards you.

"Max?" Your voice quivered as he drew nearer.

When he finally stood inches from you his perfectly angled nose brushed your hair, sniffing as he went. His hand wrapped around the side of your neck, pulling he tilted your head to the side. Fear gripped you tighter than his hand. You'd put your trust in him to help you get back to Joel. Now he was going to drink you dry. Stupid fucking mistake. Still with a vice like grip on your neck, his thumb came up to swipe your lips. Then he moved it away to replace it with his own lips. A different type of hunger evident in his movements, his tongue laved at yours. His hands held you close. Partly with confusion, you gave it to you baser instincts for a brief moment, allowing him to kiss you.

"Stop!" You pushed him off. "Stop!"

"Sorry, Honey. If I don't satisfy that killer urge it comes out as other urges to satisfy." He grinned, looking not sorry at all. "It was your call, Sweetcheeks. I was fine with killing. The bastards tortured me for weeks." A glimmer of vulnerability breeched Max's cocky surface.

Rounding the corner, another two guards with guns came into view. They hadn't gone running off like the others, they were clearly staying in place for a reason, guarding something in the room behind them. The room with a retinal scanner on it, as opposed to just a key card. Another big hint that something in there was important.

"We need to get in there." You whispered. 

Max surged forward, snapping the neck of one of the guards before they could shoot.

"Max!" You groaned in frustration.

"Oh, right, sorry." Max grabbed the next guard by his gun, keeping it firmly pointed to the floor.

"Let us in!" He growled. Before looking at you."Please."

"No." The guard spat in Max's face.

"Well, I tried." Max punched his fist through the guard's chest, hauling him around like a macabre puppet, he shoved his face at the scanner. Another moment that you'd need to shove back into the dark recesses of your brain. Bile rose in the back of your throat. A slight tremble took over your hands. Just keep pushing forward.

"Identity confirmed" The machine chimed. 

There was a heavy clunk as the door unlocked. With a shrug Max pushed the door wide and waltzed right in, leaving you no choice but to follow.

The room was all white, the walls were padded. It looked like every insane asylum set you had ever seen in a movie. Except they didn't usually have a desk set up with a laptop on it. Creeping closer to the desk, you looked at Max then the door, he followed your eyes. Getting your message he moved back to guard the door. 

The laptop was unlocked, a word document sat open on it. 'The ravenous undead creature tore through the flesh of his captors. Exsanguinating some, eviscerating others. With his thirst for blood sated, he craved vengeance in it's stead. Finding the man responsible for his incarceration, his claws slid through his abdomen like a hot knife through butter. The man didn't even have time to register his impending death before it seized him. 

That's when the vampire found her, huddled in the corner. He knew instantly that she was not of this world either. The quickly formed an alliance, determined to escape back to their own worlds. They made quite a team, her brilliant mind guiding his brute strength. Using her knowledge and her unwavering humanity, they navigated the corridors successfully. The greatest test of her fortitude coming in the form of the vampire's kiss. Almost succumbing to her burning attraction to him, she strengthened her resolve by thinking of Joel. The man she barely knew but had opened up her closed heart to new possibilities. They eventually made it to a white padded cell. Curiosity drove the woman to look at the laptop in the middle of the room. So engrossed in her reading she didn't see him behind her...'

"Shit. Max! Don't do that!" You admonished the vampire for sneaking up on you.

"What? I was bored over there." He peered at the screen. " 'Ravenous undead creature.' Really? This isn't winning a Pulitzer. 'Almost succumbing to her burning attraction to him', I stand corrected."

Shame flooded your cheeks. Trying to sound unaffected you carried on. "Read on. How did they write everything right up until now?" 

"I don't know. I don't know why this reads like a cheap romance novel. I don't what the fuck is going on here!" Max's rant was cut off by the sound of a toilet flushing close by. 

You both froze. Before you could make out where it was coming from, a panel in the wall opened. A head of thick dark curls poked out.

Your sanity took another pounding as you took the man in. "Oscar Isaac?!" Your jaw dropped.

"Who?" Came a very confused, very muddled British accent.

"Erm, Steven Grant?" You tried.

"Yes. W-who are you? No one told me I'd have any visitors today." He wrapped his thick white cardigan tighter around him as he spoke. Underneath he wore plan white scrubs. Plain white plimsolls completed the outfit. The brightest thing in the room was the guards blood Max was casually wiping off on his pants.

"Don't you already know? You wrote about us." You looked towards the laptop.

"No. I wrote about my dreams. Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to leave." He tried to make his voice sound bigger than he felt.

"We're not leaving until we get some answers." Max informed him gruffly.

"I don't have any answers for you so please just go!" He succeeded in bolstering his voice this time.

"I don't have time for this." Max lifted Steven by the collar of his cardigan.

"Max, don't!" Max turned his head to you. 

Then he was almost knocked on his ass by the punch he wasn't expecting. A second one connected with his chin sending him the rest of the way to the floor.

"Marc?" His eyes flicked towards you for a second in recognition of his name but he didn't stop advancing on Max laying prone on the floor. 

"Stop. Please!" You got in between the two of them, pushing against Marc's strong chest.

"Who are you?" His body was tense. Anticipating any movement from you. Years of training honing his reflexes. Years of trauma keeping his nervous system constantly hovering in the realm of fight or flight.

"We were locked up like you. We're here to help." You informed him gently.Marc looked sceptically at Max.

"I'm here to help." You corrected. "He's helping too, I guess."

"Hey, I've been pulling my weight. Or did you want to kill everyone?" Max sneered.

"I didn't want to kill anyone. I told you not to!" You snapped.

"Alright! You two can do your couple therapy somewhere else. Leave me alone." Marc dropped down into his chair.

"We're just trying to get out of here. Do you know more about this?" Moving closer you gestured to the laptop. "Please? I have a family to get home to."

"That's Steven's. He writes it all down."

"It all?"

"The things we see. Well, he writes what he sees."

"You don't see the same things?"

"Steven takes the brunt of it. He protects the mind, I protect the body."

"Don't you want to get out of here?"

"I shouldn't. I've hurt people."

"I'd say." Max held his jaw as you shot him a glare.

"I'll help you get out of here. Just make sure than thing doesn't kill anyone else."

"He won't." You fixed Max with a stare.

"Please?" You tried again.

"Come on then." With Marc in the lead you all turned right back into the corridor. 

"What do you know about this place?" You asked Marc as he moved swiftly ahead of you.

"They bring us here to study what they've done to us. These powers. They have technology to travel between worlds, experimenting and gathering people. From what I can gather there aren't many of them. They're some sort of rebel faction on their world. The Director runs the place."

"Ran the place. I killed him." Max threw in casually.

Marc paused for a second. "Huh, alright then." 

The corridors all looked the same to you but Marc navigated them with ease. An ease you wish you felt. The fact that you hadn't bumped into any more soldiers should be a relief, it only serves to make you suspicious. Suspicions that are confirmed when you round a corner to find a dozen soldiers waiting for you. The three of you barely made it around the corner before all hell broke loose, bullets flew in your direction. One sunk into Marc's shoulder, knocking him behind a desk. Luckily, there were a number of security desks and lockers for you to take cover behind.

"Marc?!" Crawling you made your way to him.

"Mierda." Came a voice that didn't belong to Marc. 

"Jake?" You questioned.

"Hey, Sweetheart. You might wanna keep your head down. Yo, Vampire! Get me a gun." He called in Max's direction. Then he turn back to you. Though the brown of his eyes was colder than Steven's, they still held a flicker of warmth. "We'll push them back so you can get through."

"Wait, you know what's going on?"

"Yeah, I'm always aware, always watching for when they need my help."

A chill ran through you at what Jake's 'help' looked like. He and Max made a good team. If you needed a team of ruthless killers. The bullets continued to shred the cover you were behind. If you didn't do something soon, you were dead. 

"We need more teeth." You uttered before half crawling, half throwing yourself back down the hall.

"Where did she go?" Max called over the sound of gunfire.

"I have no idea. You still up for killing these hijos de perra?" Jake asked.

"Absolutamente." Max ducked out to retrieve a gun, sliding it across the floor for Jake to catch.

Running back down the corridors, hoping you weren't going to run into any more soldiers and that your sense of direction wouldn't fail you, you stopped off in Marc's, or rather Jake's, cell and Max's cells before reaching your destination.

"I'm so sorry Jack. We need your help." You shoved all the clothes you had gathered, including your socks, through the slot in the door. The wolf clawed at them, burying his snout in the box.

"Just don't eat us. Please? Remember us. We'll help you." Grabbing the handle in both hands you yanked the door towards you, sealing yourself in the corner and opening the door wide for Jack. The werewolf sniffed the air. With each breath it...he took, you wondered if it was honing in on you. He took a few stilted steps on two legs before dropping down on all fours. He sniffed closer to the ground, turning his attention towards your hiding place. Hovering for a moment, he stepped closer, couched down beside you. His snorted breath blew through your hair. His claw-like fingernails hooked around the edge of the door. Gripping the handle even tighter, you prepared to cling onto the door for dear life if the werewolf decided to rip it open. Slowly, he pulled the door away from you, with everything that you had you tried to keep the barrier between the two of you. He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt you, more like he was curious. Still you weren't keen to risk it. His pulling on the door became more insistent. Your fingers ached under the strain, the sweat of your palms making holding on that much more difficult. Just as the handle began to slip from your grasp the beast's head whipped around, he gave a low howl before lumbering off in the direction you had come from.

For a short while, you sat there on the floor, tears pricking at your eyes. Every emotion you were trying to ignore threatened to overflow. Fear, sadness, exhaustion, shame. No, this wouldn’t do. You had to get back to Joel. To Ellie. Blinking the tears away, you hauled yourself to your feet. Hoping there was enough space between you and Jack, you headed the way he had.

The screams got louder as you approached the corridor that you had left Max and Jake in, they were blood curdling. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at the sheer terror evident in their voices. Rounding the corner you saw why. Jack was ripping his way through the soldiers. Slashing their flesh with his claws. Ripping it open with his teeth. 

Max had stayed back behind the cover he had taken but had managed to grab a soldier of his own. He had the man pinned to his broad chest, face buried in his neck, drinking him dry. He slurped and hummed in contentment, the odd groan of pleasure emanated from his throat. Wishing you could unsee that, you turned to find Jake, who was nowhere to be seen. 

A strange, high pitched hum, pressed at your eardrums, you waited for your ears to pop but they didn't, they just endured the low pressure. The source of the hum seemed to be behind the door between the two creatures slaughtering a small army. Investigating whatever was causing it didn't seem like a huge risk considering what you were caught in the middle of. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. You hoped that was because Jake had come this way and not because they didn't need to keep it locked because only an idiot would enter this room in search of the source of the ominous hum. Spotting a head of dark curls peeking over a computer terminal, you were thankful it was the former. Unless Jake was also an idiot. He seemed to know what he was doing as he typed away.

"Hey. How's the monster mash going out there?" Jake called over.

"Don't ask." You really didn't want to think of it. The screams had stopped. Part of you hoped it was due to the last remaining soldiers retreating. On the far side of the room, there was a platform, five towers resembling Tesla coils rose up from it. 

As you looked on, Jake muttered "Here goes nothing." 

The ends of the towers glowed purple. The air crackled as tendrils of light wove themselves across the space until the ceiling seemed to crack. A swirling galaxy like void appeared tilting until it was almost level to the floor. Light sparked across it like lightening. The air became so charged it was hard to breath.

"This should get us home." Jake came to stand at your side.

"Should?!" 

"I learned everything I know about it from Steven's dreams. They're not exactly 'how to' manuals but since I got it working I'd say the chances of us getting home are pretty good."

"You're not exactly filing me with confidence here, Jake."

Jake didn't answer right away, when you turned to him a different pair of eyes meet yours.

"I can't explain it but I know this will get you were you need to be." Steven reassured you. "As for your powers, you just need to take control of them, own them. I've seen you do it. I know you can, love, you're stronger than you know."

Cheeks burning as his compliment, you changed the subject.

"Are you sending the werewolf and the vampire back too?"

The sentence made your head hurt for multiple reasons. The main one being that they had just killed a bunch of people and you'd be potentially unleashing them on another world. 

"It's not like we should be judging anyone." He held his hand to his chest. "It's your call."

Before you could even begin to start to wrestle with that decision, there was a commotion outside. More heavy footsteps. More gun fire. More screaming.Max came running in, blood painting him once more. His lip was split, a cut ran across his cheek bone."There's more guys out there but the guard dog is on it."

Blood curdling screams reverberated in your chest. You nerves were so frayed by it when the door swung open, slamming into the wall, you nearly hit the ceiling. Two soldiers came in. One was instantly ripped back out into the corridor. His blood splashing onto the remaining soldier as he scrambled to close the door. Not that it did him much good. Jake returned to swiftly pin the guy to wall

"Vamos!" Jake gritted out, struggling with the solider. "Max get her out of here!" He managed to turn the soldier's gun on himself, firing two shots into his chest.

Showing his inhuman speed and strength Max had you in his arms, dragging up to the portal before the soldier's body hit the ground. The door rattled in it's frame as something slammed into it. It could be Jack, it could be a dozen more bad guys. Sadly for Jack, you weren't waiting to find out. 

"Jake, hurry!" He took off running towards you. Luckily, even without the power given to him by Khonshu, Jake was fast. Lean, honed muscles propelled him forwards. He just made it to the portal, his hand landing on your arm, as Jack's hands landed on his shoulders. Jake's back twisted in pain, that coupled with the force of Jack landing on him, sent you all stumbling into the portal. The light from it intensified, blinding you to the men around you. The air became thick around you, pinning your body ramrod straight. Every hair on you stood up on end. Pressure built painfully in your ears until...nothing. A big black void of nothing.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721

[riftwalker-limbro]

4 for Vince, 11 for Bruiser, 16 for anyone from the Deimos Triad at your choice, 8 for Kali

Piles these upon you for hopefully ample entertainment

Thank You Friend Much Appreciated Essay Incoming >:)))

recap of the rules for me: "Respond from your oc’s point of view! For this ask game, imagine that your oc cannot lie, and feels comfortable explaining themselves to the interviewer." Other context is I'll answer from post-Collective POVs, so after getting the Deimos squad back together and making everything alright there again but before Roach & the New War & everything there happens.

additionally, because i'm finding 'answer something in their voice' an interestingly difficult exercise to get myself to do, everyone's medium of answering will be text post and not speaking/conversation djfbgjhb.

---

4 for Vince: "When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

When I was young, I didn't much think about my future - because I was very absorbed in what I was doing right then, maybe? Never really saw reason to focus on what wasn't, yet. When I started hitting points where I had to choose what subjects to study, I chose mathematics - by then, I was good at it thanks to a few educators with their hearts in the right place, and my family told me it was prestiguous and I was capable, so I might as well. Where I ended up was not planned, but not unexpected either. Well, apart from the whole Helminth thing. That was a surprise.

---

11 for Bruiser: "What does your dream room/house look like? Would you mind showing some inspiration pictures?"

The messiest place you've ever seen. I have a system, but I'm not telling you what it is. That would take out the magic.

Seriously, though: trinkets, reminders, comfort items everywhere. Back when I only had a bunk in a Solaris basement, I had a box of photos of me and my friends: odd jobs we were doing, gags we would pull off, life milestones. It'd be nice to have space to hang them so I could see them without having to open a box and flip through them every time. I don't see the point of trying to hide that you live somewhere if there's no one to hide from.

A whole house is a bit beyond me - I've never needed more than just a room, but if I can just say anything - it'd have so many spare rooms. You never know when you encounter someone in need. Paying it forwards, something like that. If I could still eat, it'd have the biggest kitchen, too - I was a good cook, back in my day, believe it or not!

If I were still human, I'd also need a gym, obviously. But that won't help me much anymore now, so it's whatever.

---

16 for (spins wheel) Verica: "Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?"

Good thing you're asking me, because if you asked either of the others, you'd have gotten some sciency bullshit spiel that wouldn't make any sense if you thought about it for one minute. That's not what this question is about.

I don't think soulmates are something that just happen. You've gotta click with someone, and you've gotta work to really cultivate something. This might just sound like the 101 of friendships and relationships in general, but do you think they're much different?

It doesn't have to have a scientific basis to be real, is what Vince and Pule can sometimes forget. Yeah, it's a bit idealist, but what's life without ideas? This is the kind of magic you need to believe in to make it work for you. I wasn't scientifically sure that anyone would come for me after I sealed myself in Suda's cryo-storage, least of all the one I wanted to, but that worked out in the end. And Pule wasn't far away to begin with. Without knowing about each other, we managed to either stick together or find each other again. I choose to see the magic in that.

---

8 for Kali: "What do you like to do for fun?"

Set shit on fire.

When there's nothing that needs a little fire to brighten its day, I'm usually content to just... watch. Love just observing my tribe, pack, family, whatever you want to call it. They're always scurrying around doing things, maybe not minding themselves or their possessions as closely as they should. You can learn a lot about people this way, and this knowledge can be used in a multitude of ways, if you're creative like me.

People or places. Traveling is fun also. Back before everything, we would always get sent somewhere else, always see new sights. The system is a beautiful place if you let it be. You just have to know how to look.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[braindeadskeletons]

(i guess you can tell why i asked about ways you want matchups now haha, ignore if you want i don't wanna be a bother) i'm a non-bianary pansexual. i'm super into psychology and how emotions work, i love reading and singing, and i tend to wear flower crowns a lot. i'm not a big fan of being forced to do things, and i really dislike people yelling at me. i've got pretty bad adhd and i dissociate regularly, and i do the "what did you say?" "oh did you wa-" "yeah pizza sounds great" thing (1/2)

(2/2, sorry it's so long haha) i make lots of bracelets and i have a big tabby cat that i love to pieces, and i tend to get really protective of my friends when people threaten them. normally i'm ditzy and stupid-ish. i also take care of plants (that i've given names to) and i practice witchcraft. (again if you don't wanna answer this you can just delete it i don't wanna make you feel like you need to do it)

Hello again! Aww, there’s no need to apologize so much you’re definitely not a bother! I love doing matchups and I’m more than happy to do one for you. They're my favorite part of having this blog, actually. Yeah shitposting and calling it content is fun as well but with matchups, I get to give people who ask for them something personal, which is always fun! I love giving people things that make them happy. I could only hope that I did well enough with the matchups :) When I read through all of your information at first I was thinking that maybe you’d go well with one of the Papyri (is that the plural of Papyrus? Is that an actual term?? Whatever, it is now lmao)  but then I immediately thought ‘wow okay maybe let’s not. all of them literally yell 24/7 and yeah they all mean well but it’s overwhelming.’ So then I went down a list of all the calmer skeletons and in the end, you did actually end up getting matched with a Papyrus.

I match you with Underswap Papyrus!

Well, as much of a Papyrus that the Underswap version could be, am I right? In this relationship, you will physically never have to worry about anything in your life. Seriously, I mean that. Papyrus is going to be there as your rock, the same courtesy he gives to his brother he’s fully prepared to extend to you. You may have the habit of getting protective when people threaten who you love, but Papyrus is that instinct tenfold. It’s going to be the number one priority next to his brother to make sure that you are always safe and happy. He’s endlessly patient and caring about your needs. Your habit of “what did you say?” “hm?” “Yeah sounds good!” will never phase him, he will only sit and say it again and never be annoyed or get tired of repeating the question. He’s used to it if he’s being honest. Sans does the same on a daily basis, so with his experience so far he has a pretty good idea of what to do and how to help (if you’d like him too). The same goes for your dissociation issues. Both of the brothers have experience in this department (both for completely different reasons) and he’s prepared to help out whenever it happens (once again, only if you’d like) or to just wait patiently until you snap out of it and you two can continue whatever you were both doing beforehand. It’s no trouble at all.

Papyrus is a really relaxed kind of guy. So naturally, the kind of dates you guys go on are going to be the same. He doesn’t really see the point of going anywhere, you know? He isn’t completely against it but it's also not something he specifically requires if that makes sense. If he ever does decide to take you out, it’ll be to places like parks or maybe even a greenhouse since that sounds right up your alley, or maybe it’s just him watching you go ham with buying plants. He’ll be half horrified at the amount of money you’re spending half (overly) supportive. If you were wondering, yes he finds it adorable that you’ve named the plants. You will watch him several times chatting it up with the plants. 

----------

You, exiting the bathroom: Hey pap did you pick a movie out yet or-

Papyrus, holding a small plant: no way she did that

You: wh-

Papyrus: oh my toriel

Papyrus: expose that bitch Susan

You: what the hell is happening right now

Papyrus: shhh

Papyrus: we’re having a conversation

You: ???

Papyrus: rude

----------

Otherwise, the date is guaranteed to be an indoor kinda thing. It can go from a cuddle session to you reading out loud to him, a karaoke session with him using an overly exaggerated awful voice, Papyrus throwing puns at you all night, you name it and he’ll have it done. 

He also 100% is best friends with your cat. They’re soulmates. Attached at the hip. With one comes the other. If you ever have Papyrus curled up on the couch your cat is definitely on his chest resting as well. He’s always been more of a cat person seeing as he feels spiritually connected with their sleeping habits.

Slightly off-topic but there was this one time where he was at your place and caught you practicing your craft. 

----------

Papyrus, walking in: hey honey have you se-

You, about to light up a candle:

Papyrus:

You: oh y’know

Papyrus:

You: don’t mind me

Papyrus:

You: my place just needed some protection

Papyrus:

Papyrus:

Papyrus: [walks back out]

----------

 Does Papyrus understand a lot about witchcraft? No, not really but he’s supportive regardless. He just wants to see you laughing and being happy. Usually, when it comes to spending time together he’ll leave the choice up to you by default, but he’ll be pleasantly surprised if you switch it up and ask him instead occasionally. 

If you’re interested in psychology and how emotions work you’ve come to the right skeleton. Which is pretty ironic seeing as he can be emotionally constipated the majority of the time. But scientifically speaking he knows plenty, he’s just bad at actually feeling and expressing them. It would be very interesting to him to hear everything you have to say on the topic since honestly, he could use any and all information he could get in this department. 

If Papyrus had to pick only one thing about you that was his favorite, it’d be your tendencies to make bracelets and flower crowns. He normally wouldn’t wear stuff like that himself but if his cute date mate made them for him? They’re never going to come off of him. He’s sleeping? They’re on. He’s working? They’re on. At Muffet’s? They’re on. He’s gotten teased about it plenty but he really couldn’t bring himself to care because they’re just not going to come off. It’s kinda gross really. If he ever gets dirt on them he still wouldn’t take it off. It’s proven to be a problem.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #227

Thurs Apr 30 2020 [06:34 PM] Wack'd: Another story catalyzed by space objects falling to Earth [06:35 PM] Wack'd: This time a meteor lands in a lake in Pennsylvania [06:36 PM] Wack'd: One of Reed's science friends calls Reed and is like "hey, I know you're big into meteors, wanna come do science and hang out" [06:37 PM] Bocaj: Space needs to stop dumping its junk in our yard [06:37 PM] Wack'd: I mean hey, we do it too. It's reciprocal pollution [06:37 PM] Umbramatic: The Great Space Junk Exchange [06:38 PM] Bocaj: When has a thing earth sent v'gering into space ever caused a problem [06:38 PM] Umbramatic: ...what the fuck were the dinosaurs polluting space with to get what they did [06:38 PM] Bocaj: Its not like we send a hulk of stuff and crash it into gladiator planets [06:38 PM] maxwellelvis: @Umbramatic Tobacco [06:38 PM] Wack'd: @Umbramatic : *Land Before Time* videocassettes [06:38 PM] Umbramatic: dbtgfrh ojgifmhk  hjnl;.'; [06:38 PM] Bocaj: Ha [06:39 PM] maxwellelvis: The real reason the dinosaurs went extinct. [06:39 PM] Wack'd: So anyway the team is going on vacation! Johnny wants to get a tan and Sue is like "let's bring the grill" and I'm like "you're. You're going to Pennsylvania" [06:39 PM] Wack'd: Like yes the caption specifies it landed at a resort but like, c'mon [06:39 PM] Bocaj: CAN Johnny tan? [06:39 PM] Bocaj: He's exposed to heat and light every day of his life [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Can Johnny Storm get a sunburn? [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Also: why isn't his name Blaze? [06:40 PM] Wack'd: Maybe he can choose to but it's unpleasant to use his powers for it and he prefers the old-fashion way [06:40 PM] Bocaj: Hm, acceptable handwave [06:40 PM] Wack'd: Like there's a difference between being exposed to solar radiation from billions of miles off and setting yourself on fire [06:41 PM] Wack'd: Ben is grumpy because Alicia is bogged down with work and can't make it, and his only other friend will be busy with science [06:41 PM] Wack'd: (You'd think he could hang out with Sue and Johnny and Franklin but whatever) [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Sandman stopped taking his calls? [06:42 PM] Wack'd: Sandman tries to beat him up on the regular, what're you talking about [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Ahh, right, you're not reading Two-In-One. [06:42 PM] maxwellelvis: Okay, there's ONE thing in Marvel Two-In-One that causes an actual change to the status-quo in Marvel; there's an issue where Ben goes to a bar and finds Sandman is also there. So he sits down with him and they talk. [06:43 PM] Wack'd: "Yer off yer meds again, aren'tcha, Flint" [06:43 PM] Bocaj: One of my favorite scenes in the DCAU [06:44 PM] Bocaj: Get rekt that scene of Batman talking to Ace, psychic meltdown [06:44 PM] maxwellelvis: By the end of the issue, Sandman has gone legit, and for like a decade, he stayed so, until eventually some Spider-Man story needed him back on the Sinister Six. [06:44 PM] Bocaj: (Because it implies that Only Batman can human at people is why) [06:44 PM] Wack'd: Decade does seem to be where Marvel status quo changes top out sadly [06:44 PM] Bocaj: I think it was after the clone saga [06:45 PM] Bocaj: During the panic mode 'shit roll it back roll everything back fuck fuck fuck' kneejerk [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Gotta remind people of the good ol days after that stinker, yeah [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: Then it was close to like, two decades or something. [06:45 PM] maxwellelvis: That's an astonishingly long time in comics. [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Oh wow [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Funfact: Sandman was an Avenger [06:45 PM] Wack'd: Huh! [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Reserve, but still. [06:45 PM] Bocaj: Nice [06:46 PM] Wack'd: If nothing else the idea of him as a sympathetic crook seems to have stuck [06:46 PM] Wack'd: Which is not nothing [06:46 PM] Bocaj: Sam Raimi intensifies [06:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Marvel Two-In-One Vol 1 #86 is the relevant issue. [06:46 PM] maxwellelvis: So it hasn't happened yet at the time you're reading, is the other reason you hadn't heard about it. That issue was in 1982, so about a decade and a half, give or take. [06:47 PM] maxwellelvis: And you weren't far-off with that JLU joke, @Wack'd, says here that a big thing in the issue is Sandman dealing with the trauma of having been merged with Hydro-Man. Which is probably why he's receptive to the idea of going legit. [06:48 PM] Wack'd: Alright then [06:48 PM] Wack'd: ...anyway Sandman isn't. In this one. So [06:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, this was a lot more explaining for a dumb joke than I anticipated. [06:49 PM] Wack'd: Back to the story at hand [06:50 PM] Wack'd: Ben decides he's gonna go fishing. He's got a floppy hat and a vest and everything. Also: more womanly stereotypes!

[06:51 PM] Umbramatic: i love ben's fishing outfit [06:52 PM] Bocaj: He looks so happy [06:52 PM] maxwellelvis: Fishing hats like that always make me flash back to that M*A*S*H episode where Col. Blake salutes while wearing his hat and hooks his finger on it. [06:52 PM] maxwellelvis: "What are you trying to DO to me?!" [06:52 PM] Bocaj: Oooow [06:52 PM] Wack'd: They fly into Pennsylvania and things have. Escalated.

[06:52 PM] Bocaj: "I don't want to hoard gold, I want to turn people into dinosaurs" "HE KEEPS SAYING THAT" [06:53 PM] Wack'd: For the record earlier cutaway panels show this is a bird that got mutated by the meteor but I got distracted and forgot to post it [06:53 PM] Umbramatic: that pterosaur's wings make me viscerally angr--AND THAT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Somewhere a paleontologist is weeping [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: OR [06:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Oh cool, I didn't know the writers of *Dino Squad* ghostwrote this issue [06:53 PM] Umbramatic: that's me, i'm the weeping palentologist [06:54 PM] Mousa The 14: The bird didn’t mutate, it simply regressed to an earlier form [06:54 PM] Bocaj: HROINK! [06:54 PM] Umbramatic: if it did that it'd be more like a velociraptor [06:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Hroink indeed. Hroink indeed. [06:55 PM] maxwellelvis: Pterosaurs and birds are completely different groups of archosaurs, that's a mutation, Mousa. [06:55 PM] Umbramatic: YES [06:55 PM] Wack'd: Not really sure why this merited a silent panel

[06:55 PM] Bocaj: Just put up an invisible force slide [06:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Artist showing off [06:56 PM] Wack'd: How bad he can draw children? [06:56 PM] Umbramatic: i dunno which makes a better reaction image, franklin's face or the pterosaur's [06:56 PM] Mousa The 14: Or to show Franklin is about to use. THE POWER [06:56 PM] Bocaj: Its not the worst tiny adult i've seen in comics [06:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Unless it leads to another god-child moment, it's a rather pointless reaction image. [06:56 PM] Bocaj: I'm not saying that its all Franklin's fault but I blame Cable on him [06:56 PM] Bocaj: God-child arms race [06:57 PM] Wack'd: So the monster explodes, and Reed collects its gem--EUGH

[06:57 PM] Bocaj: I don't like this. [06:58 PM] Wack'd: Ftr Gideon Carruthers is Reed's science friend. We already have a Gideon so I'll call him Carruthers [06:58 PM] Umbramatic: -screaming- [06:58 PM] Wack'd: To disambiguate him from the rich doofus [06:58 PM] Bocaj: I'd laugh my ass off if he looked just like gideon from gravity falls [06:58 PM] Bocaj: or even gideon from Scotts Pilgrim [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: I know there's some sci-fi parasite this reminds me of, but I can't think what. [06:59 PM] Bocaj: Captain N mother brain? [06:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Parasite [06:59 PM] Bocaj: She was a parasite on my peace of mind [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Sue takes a moment to check that Franklin isn't traumatized but he's like "we fought and won, just like in the comics!" And then uh

[07:02 PM] Wack'd: Were comics caught up in the Satanic Panic or whatever? Like [07:02 PM] Umbramatic: -screams- [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Seems more like a 50s thing [07:02 PM] Wack'd: Also yeah that sure is a Franklin [07:02 PM] Bocaj: I think Wertham argued that kids couldn't distinguish comics from reality and yeah that was way before this I think [07:03 PM] Bocaj: I think in his book he cited an incident that I don't know if legit or not where a kid tied a blanket around their neck like a cape and jumped off a roof [07:03 PM] Wack'd: Eesh [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Not sure that could be laid at Superman's feet. He very clearly says 'I have alien powers from being an alien' [07:04 PM] Wack'd: Can't wait to see this kid's mutt mutate into MCGRUFF, THE CRIME DOG

[07:04 PM] Bocaj: Duff Dog Oh Yeah [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Suds McDuffie [07:04 PM] Wack'd: This is cool too I guess

[07:05 PM] maxwellelvis: I was going to say, I think a dire wolf is more likely. [07:07 PM] Umbramatic: awoooo [07:07 PM] Bocaj: Werewolves of Slyvania [07:07 PM] maxwellelvis: I really wish the LOTR movies had modeled the Wargs more on dire wolves than hyenas. [07:08 PM] Wack'd: Okay I think we can safely dismiss the idea of these mutations having some kind of basis in scientific reality

[07:08 PM] Wack'd: Paleontologists rest easy [07:08 PM] Umbramatic: FOREHEAD BEAM [07:08 PM] Bocaj: You've never seen a dog shoot a laser? [07:09 PM] Umbramatic: pidge shoots lasers all the time [07:09 PM] Wack'd: Anyway this time instead of the monster exploding Reed spots the parasite on the back of its neck and grabs it before self-destruct is triggered [07:09 PM] Wack'd: Kid gets his dog back and dog stops being a fiend [07:09 PM] Umbramatic: we have to prevent her from doing it to the neighbors [07:09 PM] Bocaj: Duffer... will live [07:10 PM] Wack'd: Reed I, uh, think the forehead laser puts a serious hole in your theory!

[07:11 PM] Wack'd: Also the fuck is the "evolutionary agent"? Is he claiming we have, like, an evolution gland that pumps evolution juice into our bodies that makes us not be weird history monsters? [07:12 PM] Wack'd: Okay so Reed elaborates that the forehead laser is because the parasite gives its hosts psychic powers to make them more powerful so they can steal gasoline to eat [07:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Well, sure, I can see how that- huh? [07:13 PM] Wack'd: "It makes a bizarre kind of sense," says Carruthers, who is also identified as a geologist and so I guess is just rolling with this [07:13 PM] Bocaj: Carruthers: "Its not a rock so i don't fuckin know" [07:14 PM] Wack'd: Sue is upset that Franklin is in danger and weird shit keeps finding them and Reed is like "we do have some quiet times, they just happen off-panel" and Sue is like "you're right, I'm sorry I snapped" [07:14 PM] Wack'd: And she wants a normal life and yadda yadda [07:14 PM] Bocaj: Like that time she played horsey [07:15 PM] Bocaj: REMEMBER THE HORSEY TIMES SUE [07:15 PM] Wack'd: Sue, hold on to your memories of like the first two pages of each recent arc [07:15 PM] Bocaj: Yeah! [07:16 PM] Umbramatic: thbijgthp oknjlph;[m'n [07:16 PM] Wack'd: So they send Ben down in scuba gear to get the meteor which does actually kinda look like it could be a Steven Universe corrupted gem. Unfortunately he brings something back with him

[07:17 PM] Wack'd: Remember: if a character says they want to go fishing in act one they need to catch a giant sea monster by act three [07:17 PM] maxwellelvis: Shai-hulud [07:17 PM] Umbramatic: poor ben [07:17 PM] Umbramatic: he just wanted to turn fish in to blathers [07:18 PM] Wack'd: Reed, being the smart intelligent thing he is, puts this round item down on the floor of a rocking boat [07:19 PM] Wack'd: It cracks open and [07:19 PM] Wack'd: And then Sue was the reverted evolution thingy

[07:19 PM] Bocaj: So whats the 'reverted evolution' of Sue [07:20 PM] Bocaj: Issue 1 Sue where she didn't ever contribute anything? [07:20 PM] Wack'd: Uh. Angry, I guess?

[07:20 PM] Bocaj: My idea was funnier and plausibly unfair [07:20 PM] Wack'd: True [07:21 PM] Bocaj: Hope this isn't another situation where Reed is justified in belting her [07:21 PM] Wack'd: Also Reed opens the cracked egg and finds five grooves for parasites to be in like seeds [07:21 PM] Wack'd: So after Sue there's one unaccounted for [07:21 PM] Bocaj: Dun dun dun [07:22 PM] Wack'd: Immediately resolved by it dropping out of a tree and on to Carruthers' neck [07:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh [07:22 PM] Bocaj: Whats tension anyway [07:23 PM] Wack'd: Hm. Reverting made his skin darker. Don't like that

[07:24 PM] Bocaj: I do like the resigned "Yep -- I wuz right" from Ben [07:24 PM] Bocaj: Don't like "uglier than the hulk" paired with the thing you said [07:25 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Carruthers goes after some oil because these things eat oil remember, so Johnny blows up the oil and Carruthers goes flying like in an action movie or a Looney Tune [07:25 PM] Wack'd: Thus knocking him out so Ben can get the parasite off him before he explodes [07:26 PM] Bocaj: Yaa~aaay [07:26 PM] Wack'd: Oh. Oh fuck [07:27 PM] Wack'd: I've been sitting here thinking "but why are the monsters blowing up anyway? How does that benefit the parasites? Surely they'd want to keep the host alive to keep collecting oil" [07:27 PM] Wack'd: Adding to that, Reed postulates time is a factor as to why some explode and some don't [07:28 PM] Wack'd: But, uh. I thiiiiiiink it might be a lot simpler than that

[07:29 PM] Wack'd: If I'm right, Franklin blew up the dragon and the sea monster. He wasn't around for the dog and Carruthers [07:29 PM] Bocaj: Dun dun DUUUUN [07:29 PM] Wack'd: (And probably wouldn't have blown them up if he had!) [07:29 PM] Bocaj: Geez Franklin, geez [07:30 PM] Wack'd: And now he's like "do I...blow up mommy? No, right? I feel like that's probably a no" [07:32 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Sue is not entirely mutated, just got some weird facial deformities and is a little out of it. Reed says its maybe her cosmic ray blood [07:32 PM] Umbramatic: *screams* [07:32 PM] Umbramatic: @ the franklin face [07:32 PM] Wack'd: Haha! VINDICATED

[07:33 PM] Wack'd: Honestly kudos to Moench here for successfully constructing a mystery I didn't know was a mystery until the reveal happened [07:33 PM] Wack'd: That's some good writing right there [07:34 PM] Wack'd: Less good writing: this

[07:34 PM] Umbramatic: so nice work [07:35 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Franklin blows up the parasite without hurting Reed or Sue and is very proud of himself [07:36 PM] Wack'd: And Reed concludes "uh maybe we should figure out exactly hat Franklin's deal is" before the whole team hightails it back to New York [07:36 PM] Wack'd: A happy ending maybe

[07:37 PM] Bocaj: OR IS IT? [07:37 PM] Wack'd: Nope, turns out they have another son [07:38 PM] Bocaj: Benjamin Jonathan Richards you were named after the two bravest men I know [07:39 PM] Wack'd: LETTERS! Everybody loves some letters [07:39 PM] Wack'd: Eric L Watts wants Johnny to fall in love with another superhero and Ben and Alicia to get married. I like one of those ideas [07:39 PM] Bocaj: Is that the one what did happen eventualy? [07:40 PM] Wack'd: I mean both of those happen eventually [07:40 PM] Bocaj: Or is it the one, due to the vagaries of gendered language, that has Johnny come out as queer? [07:40 PM] Wack'd: Ha [07:41 PM] maxwellelvis: Lyja isn't a superhero when she and Johnny meet, though. [07:41 PM] Wack'd: Someone wants to know how Sienkiewicz is pronounced! It's sinKEVitch [07:41 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis He does also date Medusa, so [07:41 PM] Bocaj: He's dated Crystal and Medusa [07:41 PM] maxwellelvis: Good golly [07:41 PM] Bocaj: He dates Nova, not that one, who probably counts if Silver Surfer do [07:42 PM] Bocaj: Huh. This list of romantic partners I've found for him is shorter than you'd expect [07:42 PM] Wack'd: People are kind of tetchy at how much Reed stretches now. Two different letter writers are like "He's not Plastic Man!" [07:42 PM] Bocaj: Hah. [07:43 PM] Wack'd: And people really like the more domestic stuff, specifically how Sue is written [07:43 PM] Wack'd: I'm sure the fact that all the letter writers are dudes is a coincidence [07:44 PM] Bocaj: I'm kind of but not really but a little surprised that Carol and Johnny haven't gone on at least one date. They have a venn diagram social circle and Carol dated Spider-Man briefly which is a similar kind of energy [07:44 PM] Wack'd: Oh hey, look who's making her *Fantastic Four* debut

[officialcolumbiauniversity]

impostor syndrome in STEM

This is a post I wrote before Columbia required students to move out due to the pandemic.

February 25. I thought I’d write about this because I was reading a blog post about impostor syndrome to make myself feel better and remembered I have a blog. And people would probably like to hear what I’m thinking.

I spent all of yesterday in lab, which if you don’t remember from my last post is brand-spankin’-new and super fancy and is all sorts of out of my league knowledge-wise. My PI and I chatted about what project I’d start working on, and afterwards I stuck around to ask him questions about the laser lab because I realized that I wasn’t really asking questions when it was him and the grad students with me. So I felt safe asking the questions I did, which included “why don’t we have to lint-roll our entire body if we have to dust our shoes before entering the lab?” (the answer was efficiency) and “what’s the point in having two lenses if one makes the laser smaller and the other just makes it bigger again?” (the answer had something to do with focusing and cleaning the beam) and other questions that I thought were inane and stuff I should have been able to understand from the papers I read. He was very nice about answering all my questions and walking me through a dumbed-down version of optics in general.

I told my PI after that I don’t ask a lot of questions in lab because I can’t tell the difference between questions that I should know the answer to and waste everyone’s time, and questions that would actually create productive discussion. And he responded that there’s no such thing as a dumb question, which of course I already know since professors say that all the time. But I didn’t realize until this morning how much I do believe there is such a thing as a dumb question, and that I ask too many of them.

The thing is, I truly feel as though I’m not smart enough to make it as a scientist. I feel like everything I think of has already been thought and answered, and I can’t remember the last time I had an original thought. I feel like I ask questions that a tourist would ask, not questions that someone about to get involved in the research would ask. 

I think that this blog makes me look like a STEM major who knows what they’re doing and is enthusiastic about their career as a scientist, wherever it may take them. But I just want to make it clear that I am not effortlessly enthusiastic about it: most of the time I’m paralyzed by fear about not making it into a top 10 chem grad school and then either becoming a lab tech for the rest of my scientific career or going into a different field and wasting this expensive-ass degree. I have a sub-3.0 GPA, and it’s preventing me from applying for fellowships that literally everyone seems to do, like SURF in the bio department, which sophomores and freshmen get effortlessly. I’m terrified for this summer because if I don’t figure something out soon I’m going to waste the last summer I have, the only summer where I can actually create connections and a network to figure something out post-grad. And obviously I can’t apply to grad schools with a 2-something GPA. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

But it’s not just my GPA that bothers me. These classes I’m taking, like right now I’m taking linear algebra and physics, should be easy As. I love both subjects and I feel like I’ve mastered the material we’ve covered so far and I feel confident solving p-sets. But when I go to pick up my graded p-sets, I have to flip through everyone else’s 15/15s and 41/42s to find my 9/15 and 38/42. These are classes that I’m over-prepared for, classes that are filled with freshmen, classes where professors go out of their way to help everyone get the highest grade possible. And to see myself get average and below-average grades is bewildering and beyond disheartening.

I try to make myself feel better by reminding myself “science isn’t about good grades it’s about being a curious and thorough researcher,” but then I come into the research lab and can’t think of a single other question than ones about the technicalities of the lab set-up. I ask about mirrors and lasers and why the room is always dark, when I feel like I should be asking questions about -- well I honestly don’t even know. Like the math or concepts or something. I ended up dropping a class that I was really excited about taking this semester, because it’s a grad course and I felt uncomfortable asking questions so I just fell too far behind. Other students asked really thoughtful questions and I just asked questions about notation.

So, yeah. That’s how I feel a majority of the time. I wonder every day what makes me cut out for my major, and if I’m trying hard enough. I don’t even know if I should be going into academia, because I’m not exactly excited by the idea of being plagued with impostor syndrome my whole career, no matter how many other people also experience it. 

But I haven’t ever stopped trying in my major. And I guess that’s my point, at least of this post: I’m hopeful that science isn’t about having the grades or knowing everything, in the long run. I’m hopeful that whatever I have right now is worth something, and that I’ll be able to build a career I love on top of it. But the purpose of this post was just to let you guys know that for many undergrads here preparing for STEM careers, there’s no amount of prestige that can get rid of these insecurities. For example, even if I did get into my dream grad school (Stanford), I’d be constantly worried that I fluffed my application to make myself look good and they let me in unwittingly. So, no, being in a major I love doesn’t protect me from all the post-undergrad anxieties.

Update: it’s March 29, the day I’m posting this, and as you well know COVID-19 is in full swing in the US. Columbia was quick to send all students home, and ultimately decided that this semester would be graded on a pass/fail basis for all students, with no exceptions. If you’re unfamiliar with the system, the key piece of info is that Pass grades have no weight on your GPA, but Fail grades do (as a 1.0). Many people argue that a mandatory P/F system is beneficial to students who can’t study under their current situations, and I agree with that. I personally can’t study effectively in my situation. But I’m also panicking over the fact that I won’t be able to boost my GPA this semester, leaving me with a shitty GPA for yet another year (if we return in the fall). Many internships I was in the process of applying to will be revoked, if not because of the pandemic then because my personal statement claiming “my GPA by the start of this internship will have been brought up by my efforts this semester” will be absolutely inaccurate. Applying to grad school in the fall is a laughable wish; I’ll need to take a gap year most likely, since I won’t be able to land a job. What I really need is for Passes to weigh as 4.0s, but I doubt the university will do that. Anyways, that was just an update on the GPA part of the rant above. Hope y’all are staying safe.

[erintoknow]

i said peel the skin raw

fallen hero fanfic time again ~5.2k words [ao3] (9.8k/50k for nanowrimo)

title from [Ripe by Screaming Females]

–––

Dr. Mortum lets go of Jane’s arm as the two of them step into the laboratory proper. No experiments running in the background today. That’s different. Mortum glances back to her friend, a nervous smile to try and ease the tension. It doesn’t work. “Do you want a drink?”

“A drink?” Jane crosses her arms, scans the room. It’s been months since you felt the need to have Jane make a note of the exits in Mortum’s lab. Worktables, computer bank, a makeshift office space offset with fake-walls, everything is way too clean. “What’s with you today? We’re at your place now, can we finally talk about whatever’s going on?”

“I’ve got wine? Champagne, a nice Pinot Noir…”

“Mortum.”

“No? Alas.” Dr. Mortum exaggerates her shrug, brings a hand up to fiddle with her glasses. “How are you doing, mon amie? It’s been a while since we last talked. And a lot has… happened.”

Jane snorts, “Yeah, no shit.” Her expression softens, maybe that was a little too harsh. “I’m sorry. Things have been busy on my end too.”

“Mm-hm.” Mortum nods, not taking her eyes off the wine-rack she’s examining. “Adrestia keeping you busy?”

Jane falters, running her hands up her arms. Some scars, but nothing like yours, smoother. Jane can wear pull off a short sleeve dress like this without any fear. “Y–yeah. She didn’t cause any problems for you at the auction, did she?”

“You know how you advised me to just buy the teleportation gun?” Mortum taps a finger on one bottle, then pulls out the one next too it and moves to pour herself a drink. “She stole it.”

“Ah.” Jane grimaces. “I– actually, that’s part of why I needed to talk to you?”

“Oh? – Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Mortum holds up the bottle. “Native Californian, 1979, summer before the big one hit.”

“Oh hell, fine.” Jane sighs and lets her arms drop to her sides. “My… my boss wants me to arrange a meeting. To, uh… return your gun.”

Mortum hands Jane a full glass and the two of them take seats around the workshop table. “She wants to meet? With me directly?” Mortum frowns. “In person?”

“Yeah. Tonight, actually. There’s this dinky bar on Melrose called La Catina, she’ll be there at six o’clock.”

“Do you think she suspects anything?”

“I couldn’t say.” Jane takes a sip from her glass. Need to steady her nerves. Need to calm down. Jane doesn’t get jumpy. “I watch my thoughts around her but… you know. How would I know?”

Dr. Mortum swirls the wine around her glass, thinking. “Will you be there as well?”

“I… have my own chores, I’m sorry.” This is a delicate rope you’re threading, but you need to sew these pieces back together before everything falls apart. “For what it’s worth, she’d be meeting you out of armor.”

That gets her attention, “Out of armor?”

“If she knew we were…” Jane makes a face, “planning on, uh, ditching her, I don’t think she’d be offering to trust you with who she was.” There’s a twinge of guilt for lying that blatantly. It’s for the greater good though. Right?

“Truthfully, Adrestia hasn’t been a terrible employer. Always paid on time, resourceful in finding rare materials.” Is Jane holding her breath, or is that you? “But she is dangerous. Liable to end poorly if my experience is any indicator. And then there’s the matter of your mandatory employment by her.”

“Th–that’s true.”

“Mon amie, how did you come to work for Adrestia, anyway?”

“W–what?” Jane gives an uncomfortable laugh and fiddles with the glass in her hands. “I mean, you know… girl on her own, looking to get a leg up in the world…”

Dr. Mortum downs the rest of her own glass in one go. “Do you remember when you asked me to look into that ‘Shroud’ character? Back right before the Auction?”

Something tightens in Jane’s gut. “Uh, yeah? Did you find something out? About her?”

“She’s Lord Ember’s number one enforcer in San Francisco. A tactile telepath with some kind of…” Mortum frowns to herself, “life… energy drain ability.”

“…life drain?”

“Not very scientific I know.” The woman’s frown only deepens. “Merde, what I’d give for the chance to study her.”

“Uh– Doctor?”

“Right, anyway, the people whose minds she… consumes, she can sift through their memories at will. I couldn’t say how long she retains the information but it makes for one very handy interrogation-execution package.”

Can feel the goose-bumps running up the back of Jane’s neck. That just talking about Shroud like this is producing a reaction in Jane is not helping your nerves in the slightest. “She… eats peoples minds…?”

“So it appears. What’s left is a body, weakened and comatose. Not something that would last more than a few hours without life support. That’s the basis for the rumors behind her having a ‘death touch’.”

“That’s… awful, when you put it like that. But it’s not exactly new information.”

“Have you crossed paths with her before, mon amie?”

“No. I mean – I don’t think I have?” Jane hunches over, “Seriously, doc, what’s wrong? There’s been something off with you ever since we talked on the phone last night.” It can’t be what it’s starting to sound like. It can’t be. There’s no way. There’s a mistake, somehow. A mix-up.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not sure how to approach this. Or… what to make of what I found.” Dr. Mortum eyes the wine bottle, plainly weighing the benefits of pouring herself another glass. “Maybe it would be best just to show you directly.”

“Show me? Show me what?”

Dr. Mortum puts the wine glass down, reaches a hand across the table to grasp Jane’s. “You really don’t know?”

Jane stiffens under the doctor’s touch but doesn’t pull her hand away. “I wouldn’t be asking like this if I did.”

She doesn’t let go of Jane’s hand, instead shifting her chair so they’re both on the same side of the table. With her free hand she gestures towards the monitor screen installed on the near wall. “While I was digging around, I got my hands on some footage through a contact of mine.”

“Footage?”

Jane watches as Dr. Mortum brings a holographic keyboard to life in front of her. The monitor flickers on as Mortum navigates through a series of files. “Here we are. This… might be difficult to watch.”

“Doctor,” Jane’s voice is dry, “just what on earth are you trying to… show… me…?” Voice fades to nothing as the video file expands to fill the whole screen.  The video is grainy and low quality, shades of grey like a cheap security camera. But the picture jostles and moves in strange motions, hand-held? No – almost first-person esque. Mods? An eye-camera?

The center of the screen is taken up by woman on a chair. Ziplock ties bind her by the wrists and ankles to the metal frame, and the chair doesn’t shift at all as the woman struggles. Welded to the floor? The woman on the chair has a black eye, bruises on her arms, chin. Curly hair framing a too-familiar face. 

There’s no way.

There’s no possible way.

You look down to your – Jane looks down to her hands, rubs her wrist with her fingers. No bruises, no marks. Not – not anymore. This is Jane. this is Jane’s body. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to Jane. She’s safe. She’s nobody. 

But there’s no tattoos on the woman on the screen.

The camera turns away and Shroud is stepping into the room. Too-fancy dress, veiled face, and long gloves. The camera steps back getting a wider view of the whole scene as Shroud steps around the woman in the chair. “Be reasonable Ace, all we want to know is how you did it.” The voice, tinny through the speakers, is still enough to set Jane on edge. Grinding her teeth, nails digging into her arms.

“Did what?” Jane’s voice. Fuck. Shit. Piss. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”

Shroud’s voice is slow, faux patience. “Two million and thirty three thousand. That’s how much you’ve lost Lord Ember.” The skeletal woman stops in front of – Jane? Ace? The woman tied to the chair. One hand tugging back against the fabric of her gloves.

“I’ve been playing fair. I’m just lucky.” Picture of hurt innocence. Literal.

“Hmm… Luck.” Shroud reaches out a hand, and someone off screen passes off a gun. A revolver. Even with the poor visual fidelity it looks like an antique. “Let’s see just how lucky you are.”

Without thinking about it, Jane finds herself reach out for Dr. Mortum’s arm, pulling the woman closer. Mortum shifts position to get closer, puts her arm around Jane instead, holding her tight.

There’s no one for the woman in the chair. Shroud, calm and silent as death itself loads a bullet into the revolver. As she points the gun at the woman’s leg, Jane flinches, buries her face in Mortum’s side. But there’s no ‘bang,’ no screams.

Another bullet loaded. Shroud humming to herself. Points at the woman’s shoulder. Jane cries out, hides her face against Dr. Mortum again. The woman on the screen remains stoic the whole time. No ‘bang’ this time either.

Third bullet. Pointed at the forehead. The chamber spins and now on the woman on the screen – Ace – flinches the color draining out of her face. Did Ace on the screen cry out that time or was that Jane again?

Shroud chuckles as she waves the gun in Ace’s face. “Don’t be a baby. It’s just rubber bullets, to see how long your luck lasts. It won’t kill you.”

Ace shrinks back against the chair. Jane’s own breathing is becoming increasingly harder, the body slipping out of your control again – like before. “You will, though.” Ace says.

“Hm?” Shroud leans back, a hand on her hip. She holds the gun out and again, someone off screen takes it from her. Both hands free now, she starts tugging at one of her gloves. “Not if you cooperate with me.”

“Liar.” Ace strains against her bonds again. It’s hard to breath, hard to watch. But something won’t let you look away either. “You’ll kill me, and that will be the end of you.”

“Threats? Really now? In your position?” Shroud’s glove is off now, and the camera person takes another step back. “I’ve looked into you, Ace. Bitter, lonely soul. No close family, no close friends. Nobody that will miss you.” Shroud pulls back her veil. Skin deathly pale and sunken, sallow features. Something like a walking corpse with a death’s head grin. “Nobody will avenge you.”

“Still not lying.” An impossible level of conviction in those words. Ace’s wrists are bleeding now, plastic cutting into skin. But there’s no getting away. No escaping. “Do your worst sucker, but that will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I’ve heard it all before.” Shroud says, bored, as she flexes her hand now. Too thin, too bony. “Now… let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me.” Her hand grasps Ace’s face and Ace  screams, and you can’t, can’t keep watching. Jane hides her face against Mortum’s side. Don’t look until the screaming stops.

Ace sits in the chair, breathing but limp. Sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, looking awfully like she did when you found Jane in the hospital. Shroud, in contrast looks radically different. Less a corpse and more a woman carved from marble. A wide grin across her face, making a show of licking her lips. “Boosts were always my favorite.”

“What did you learn?” The voice comes from off camera.

“Lone operator.” Shroud puts a finger to her head, eyes closed in a too familiar motion. Her sleeve falls back against gravity, not enough to reveal anything definitive but are those shapes hints of tattoos? Geometric. Someone else far too familiar. “Could see the numbers before the ball landed. Same with the cards.” Shroud shrugs, then smirks towards the camera. “Cute trick. Tell him that he doesn’t have to worry, she’s not one of Hollow Ground’s crew. Just someone who miscalculated. Badly.”

And it’s too much. Jane staggers to her feet. “I–I–I– I have to– I need a walk. I need to get a hold of myself. I need–”

The off-screen voice snickers. “Guess her luck finally ran out. What should we do with the body?”

Shroud flexes her exposed hand, slowly tugging her glove back on. “Sell her for parts, let her recoup some of the cost that way.”

Nausea riles up and Jane collapses to the floor, hands on the tiles, retches, then vomits. Did you just watch yourself– watch Jane, die?

“Mon amie?” Dr. Mortum hovers by your side, hands outstretched but not quite touching.

“I’m f–f–f–fine.” You insist. Tears falling from your eyes into the pool of ejected wine and bile on the floor, more running out your nose. Can feel your body shaking, arms struggling to hold yourself off the floor.

“Come on, mon amie, let me help you up.” There’s a brief pause and then arms reach around your shoulders, pulling you back to your feet, holding you steady even as you continue to shake. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

“S–s–sorry. I–I’m sorry.”

Mortum leads you out into the adjoining bathroom, “I’ll clean it up. You just take a moment, okay?” A light touch to your back makes you jump, and Mortum hesitates, clearly at a loss for what to do. 

So are you.

Stare at your face in the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes red, a mess. Everything’s a mess. This face that’s yours but not yours, Jane’s face. Or Ace’s face? Hold yourself up with your hands bracing against the bathroom sink.

What do you do?

Clean up. Clean yourself up. Clean Jane up. Get it together. Get a hold on yourself. Jane sucks in air until her lungs hurt, then slowly lets it all out. Does it again. Third time. Mortum leaves to clean the mess on the floor.

Never felt more like a puppeteer as you do now, putting Jane through the motions. Blow the nose, water on the face. Wash off the tears, snot, vomit, ruined make-up. Hyper-aware of the differences between your face and hers. Smaller nose, rounder face, no freckles, softer eyes. Just fooling yourself this whole time – some sort of sick fantasy on your part. Letting yourself getting lured in by a shared hair and eye color, a similar inability to tan. 

Sometimes, in these more emotional moments it gets difficult to remember Jane is an act you’re playing, a mask you’re wearing. Not that you’ve ever been good at separating your feelings. The fiasco with Julia can attest to that.

Can’t say you were prepared for ‘interrogation by a Farm-trained telepath’ to be another point of blurred boundaries between the two of you. Grab a wash cloth off the hook, take a deep breath then bury your face in the fabric to muffle your scream. When Jane runs out of breath, she finishes drying off her face, adjusts her dress before walking back into the lab.

Mortum gives Jane a sheepish wave as she spots her, “Do you need a drink?”

“I’m going to need something harder than wine this time.” Jane replies, rubbing her hands over her face.

“I was thinking similarly.” She’s already back by the kitchenette. Jane slumps into the nearest chair, listening to the sound of glasses being poured. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I should have given more warning. I just…”

“I don’t think there’s a warning adequate enough for something like that.” Jane suppresses a shudder, only looking up to take the –very large– glass of whiskey offered to her. “So that was really her… death-touch deal?”

Mortum nods, nursing her own large glass. “Yes. It was passed along to me as an example of Shroud in action. But I wouldn’t have bothered putting you through that except for–”

Jane cuts her off, “who the the victim was.”

“Mm.” Dr. Mortum watches Jane carefully over the rim of her glasses.

“How old is the video?”

Don’t say three years, don’t say three years, don’t say three years.

“About three years.” Mortum answers.

“Fuck.”

“Mon amie?”

“Goddamnit.” Jane laughs, high-pitched and frantic. “So then that person on the video, Ace, that was…”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well.” Jane takes a long drink, gasping for air when she puts the glass down on the table. “I get why you wanted to just show me the video.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

That gets another, more bitter laugh. “We kind of have to, don’t we?”

“Mon amie…” Dr. Mortum’s voice is low, face furrowed in worry. “How far back can you remember?”

“I…” Jane hesitates, then clenches her fists. “About three years. Woke up in the hospital. Everything hurt. My boss got me out.” What would have happened if you had waited to come back the next day? Or snuck in a day earlier? It had been… sheer luck you had been able to steal away Jane’s body when you had.

Had it been luck?

Jane exhales, a long shaking breath. “I don’t remember anything before that.”

“Saving someone’s life is certainly one way to ensure loyalty.” Dr. Mortum’s voice is soft, low. When did her hand find Jane’s? How long has she been holding it?

“I don’t– I’m not sure that she did.”

“Did what?”

“Save my life.”

“You’ll be free of her one day.” She squeezes Jane’s hand.

Jane only flinches, pulls her hand back. “That’s– that’s not what I mean. I… oh god. I don’t know how to say this.” Never mind how to say it. What to say is the more pressing issue. 

“I’m not sure I’m following, mon amie.”

“Of course not.” Jane snaps back. “You don’t exactly have the full picture – I mean, neither do I but I’ve got more of the – the goddamn puzzle pieces, fuck.” Another long drink ending in a gasp for breath. Try not to think too much about worried concern on Mortum’s face.  This is stupid. What are you doing. Shut up Ariadne. 

Dr. Mortum says nothing, confound her. No well-meaning advice, no comforting words. Just a worried look.

“Look I – I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“Well, that’s hardly a surprise, considering our respective businesses.”

“Just… let me finish. I don’t – I don’t really know how to sell this. You aren’t going to believe me.” Jane’s smile is brittle, hands hugging her sides.

Mortum shakes her head, “Try me.”

“Okay. Well.” Jane fiddles with the hem of her dress, fingers worrying the fringe. “I’ve told you I can’t just… quit my job with Adrestia.”

She nods.

“And I knew Adrestia…. had saved my life, I just… had no idea to what extent.” Jane pauses, chewing furiously at the inside of her cheek. “I don’t think she knew either. But. Okay. So. Three years ago, Adrestia springs me out of the hospital…. who knows, maybe days, maybe hours, before I was due to get carved up for organ replacements. Following me?”

“I’m following.”

“And– and I was weak. I was real weak. It took me months just to get well enough to get out of bed again, to walk, a whole year before I could even begin to start doing the simplest jobs for her. But– but there’s still…”

“The question of how you survived Shroud at all.” Mortum finishes and Jane nods.

“Except, that’s the thing. I didn’t. I didn’t survive. I’m not some special exception.”

Mortum’s hand finds Jane’s again, a light touch, a chance to pull back. When Jane doesn’t, she holds tighter.

“My… boss is a telepath, right? A very powerful one.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well… She can… Adrestia can possess people.”

That gets a quizzical look, Mortum’s eyebrows furrowing together. “Possess people?” She echoes back.

“It’s– It’s the next step up, I guess, from just tweaking someone’s thoughts.” Jane winces as Mortum’s grip on her hand tightens. “Only… most people, you know, there’s someone already home. It makes possession difficult. And the longer you do it, the harder it gets.” Jane���s voice drops, “And it’s… it’s horrific for the victim. Watching their body move without their say so. Trapped in your own mind.”

“Jane…” Mortum’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Jane tenses up, eyes wet as she laughs. “You really shouldn’t be. Shroud… evicted the previous tenant, and I? I moved in. Made myself at home.”

“What? Mon amie, I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to get doc?” More nervous laughter. “I’m the man behind the curtain. I am my boss.”

Mortum lets go of Jane’s hand, the absence hurts worse the pressure she’d been applying before. “I don’t understand. You’re not telepathically sensitive.”

“Jane isn’t my body. Adrestia is. Possessing her. Me? I’m… not so sure anymore.”

“What? Use your words.”

“Shroud.” You spit the name out, feeling the bile in the back of your throat. “Killed Ace. We both saw it,” Jane gestures at the monitor. “And then, I came along. I needed… I needed a face. I couldn’t risk being seen. Being recognized. And– and here w–w–was this body. This empty body, just waiting.”

“A puppet.”

“Yes. I stole her. Me?” You stare down at Jane’s hands. “I didn’t even know who she was.”

Dr. Mortum’s face has gone cold. A careful blank mask. Unreadable as she stares you down. “So.” Her voice is even, controlled. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“I’m– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for– for lying to you this whole time.”

“But… why would you do that?” Her voice strains, cracks against the pressure to keep an even tone.

Jane looks down, stares at the floor, hands helpless in her lap. “This… whatever this is, wasn’t supposed to happen. I just needed someone to build my armor. You weren’t supposed to be…” Jane makes a face and you wonder if she looks as helpless as you feel right now. “…nice.”

“Nice? Nice?”

“I liked you, okay?” You response comes back quick, defensive. “You could be funny. And you’re smart, didn’t pry much but you also cared. I wasn’t ready for that. I had been… alone. For so long. And I didn’t want to let it go. I was afraid to let it go. Even though I knew I should have.” Jane’s voice drops, “I should have told you months ago. But I… I liked how I was around you. I was afraid of how things would change.”

Mortum pushes up her glasses to rub at her eyes. “And that’s different from how you normally are, I take it?”

“It… it reminded me of how I could be, before I died.”

“Before you… died?”

“I mean, before Adrestia died, not Jane. Ugh, different disaster. Even longer back.”

“I’m afraid I’ve lost the plot on this one.” It almost sounds like a joke, but Mortum doesn’t smile.

“At heart… I’m kind of a coward.”

“Lying, hiding behind other people’s bodies… I can’t say I’m inclined to disagree right now.” Mortum pushes her glasses back up her nose, eyes boring holes through you behind orange-tinted lenses. “I can’t say I appreciate being made fun of much, either.”

That one hurts. “It wasn’t like that!” You clench your fists, can feel the tension in Jane’s shoulders. “I meant everything I said.”

“Even about your boss?”

“Is it really a surprise that I don’t like myself?”

Mortum doesn’t respond, beyond a “Hmm.”

“And then you said you were going to stop working for Adrestia. That you wanted me to quit with you. And I– I tried to tell you. I couldn’t. I literally couldn’t quit. I literally can’t stop being Adrestia. No matter how much I want to. So… when you said you had a plan, in case she – In case I did something against you and me – Jane, I needed to know what it was to-to-to defend myself.”

“Hence stealing my teleportation gun from me.”

“What? No!” You wave your hands, desperate for her to believe you. “That was an accident. I w–w–was serious about returning it. I– I wanted to try and fix things but I… I don’t know how.”

“Sometimes, Jane, the only way to fix an experiment is to trash the whole thing and try something else.”

“I…” Your voice falters. “I don’t know how to interpret that.”

The silence that stretches out between the two of you is physically painful. Finally, Dr. Mortum breaks the tension, rapping her fingers on the worktable. “So.”

“I’m sorry.” “Why not just approach me as yourself? Why this farce?”

“I couldn’t!” You hold your head in your hands, pulling at your hair. “Too many people know who I was before. I couldn’t be sure I could trust you. That I could trust anyone. And by the time I thought I could…”

“I had already decided that I couldn’t trust Adrestia.”

“Yeah.” You shift in your seat. “I just… you let me feel real, at least for a little while. That I could have friends.”

“Friends.” Her voice is flat.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Your smile fades, “Were friends, I guess. Even if you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, you have to believe me on that. Please. I just… I know it’s selfish but I just wanted to be happy for once.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” There’s a desperate edge in Mortum’s voice now. You can’t bring yourself to lift Jane’s head to see the other woman’s face.

Jane shrinks back in her seat. It’s weird. You keep expecting your usual panic symptoms whenever things start to skirt too close to the truth. “I don’t know what else I can say… when we first met, I didn’t even think of myself as human, never mind a woman.”

“Human? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“Fuck, I– I guess I better.”

“Stalling.”

“This isn’t easy, shit!” Jane chews her cheek, hugging her arms tight against herself. “Okay… um…” You glance at the image on the monitor, still frozen. “Scroll back, like thirty seconds on the video?”

“Still stalling.”

Jane groans, a pleading look on her face. “Please, just… humor me on this, okay? I’m going somewhere with this.”

Dr. Mortum sighs. With a gesture the keyboard reappears beneath her hand and the video snaps back, frame by frame.

“There!”

Mortum stops the rewind. “Alright, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Look at Shroud’s sleeve. Where it falls back, and right before the skinsuit starts on her arm. Do you see anything?”

You don’t look at the screen, instead watching Dr. Mortum’s face as she scrutinizes the grainy image. “I don’t…”

“Those designs, just poking out the top there?”

“Okay…”

“Re-gene tattoos.”

Sharp in-take of breath. “Truly?”

“I’d recognize them anywhere.”

“I see them now…” A tight frown settles onto the doctor’s face. “Do you think Lord Ember is aware he has a regene in his employ? An escapee or…?” She stops, shakes her head. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m the s–s–same as– the same as Shroud.” Jane clenches her hands. “The– the other me, I mean.”

“…A re-gene?” What does that look on Mortum’s face mean?

Jane nods, then shakes her head. “Do you know what a cuckoo is?”

She narrows her eyes at Jane. “I… might be aware that they exist.” If anyone knew what a cuckoo was, trust it to be Dr. Mortum. Yet another reason you couldn’t have trusted her with the truth at first.

Jane spreads her arms wide, you choke back a sob. “Well, you’re– you’re looking at one right now. I couldn’t– I couldn’t let them find me. My other body is… I mean, my real body is just…”

“Mon dieu, how long have you been on the run?”

“A few years… before, uh…” You swallow back the bile in your throat. Might as well go all in. If she’s going to fire a gun at you, better make sure it’s a headshot. “Before Sidestep.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dr. Mortum groans, rubbing her nose. “No. Of course. All the pieces fall into place. Merde!”

“I g–g–got caught once, already. I can’t go back. Not again. So… stay out of sight. Use a go-between.”

“I understand that, mon amie, but I wish you would have trusted me.” Dr. Mortum groans. “For both our sakes.”

“I know.” You run your hands over your face, avoiding the doctor’s gaze. “Look… if you– if you want revenge, I’d rather you just… shoot me then tip them off. I’ll die before I go back.”

“Did you seriously think I could ever hurt…” The doctor hesitates, “her?” 

“Yes.” You whisper, unable to raise you voice any louder. “I’m… afraid. Always. All the time. But– but I’m telling you now. You deserve the truth.”

“Even if it ends up killing you?”

“I wouldn’t argue that I don’t deserve it.”

“Okay…” Dr. Mortum scrunches her face up. Deep in thought. “You were planning to meet me tonight. In your own body.”

“That’s right.”

“Were you planning to tell me then?”

“If I didn’t chicken out again. Neutral ground. It was– It was supposed to be safer.”

“Safer. For you maybe.” The disdain is plain in her voice. “This is a lot to process.”

“I know.”

“I need–” The doctor’s voice cracks as she struggles to keep her composure. Furious at you, to be sure. Can’t blame her. “I need some time. Mon dieu, I need some fucking time.”

“I… understand.”

“I will keep your secret. And I will do you the favor of pretending you don’t know how to get into my lab.” Dr. Mortum raises a pointed finger at you. “But I need some time. To… think things over. To figure out how I feel about this whole… disaster.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you sorry for lying to me or sorry you got caught?”

Jane pulls back, frowning. “I didn’t– I didn’t have to tell you any of this. I chose to…”

“Shoot yourself in the face.”

“I guess.”

“Right. I’m trying to keep that in mind.” Mortum gets up, turns her back on you. “Just. Go. Get out of here. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to talk.

“Do you know whe–”

“I don’t know, Adrestia! It could be a week, it could be years! It could be never! Let me think!”

“Okay.” Jane pulls herself to her feet. You feel hollow, empty. “You… know how to reach me.”

“Just go.”

“I’m sorry.”

You manage to hold yourself together long enough to get Jane back home. Don’t even bother undressing before collapsing face first into the bed. The best you can hope for is that Dr. Mortum doesn’t sell you out. But there’s no recovering that relationship. Christ. If this is how it goes with Mortum, how will Julia take the truth?

Julia deserves to know.

Her knowing will kill you.

You roll over onto your back, close your eyes as you slowly untether yourself from Jane’s body.

Would dying really be so bad? Compared to this?

[bloojayoolie]

Back to the Future, Be Like, and Beer: lyrangalia Folow prokopetz experience bizarre malfunctions wih such overwhelming frequency isnt just an artefact of the television serial format. Rarer, ศ3 because the Federaoon as a cuture are a bunch of deranged hyper-neophiles, tooling around in ships packed ful of beyond-cutting-edge bech they don't realy understand Endlessly trustraing t you have to fight them, because they can puil an efectively unlimited number of bulsht space-magic countermeasures out of their arses but they're as lkely as not to give themseves a lethal five-dimensional wedgie n the process. All those rampant holograms and warp core maunctions and ncidents? That doesn't actualy happen t anyone else, rs lteraly just Federaion vessels mat go off the rais ike that And they do so on a fairty regular basis So to everyone else in the galaxy all humans are basically Doc Brown prokopetz Alens who have seen the Back to the Future movies ineraly dont realise that Doc Brown is meant so be funny Theyre just ike yes, mat is exactly what at human sclentists are lke in my experlence" THE ONLY REASON SCOTTY IS CHIEF ENGINEER INSTEAD OF SOMEONE FROM A SPEC ES WİTH A HIGHER TECHNOLOGICAL APTITUDE IS BECAUSE EVERYONE FROM THOSE SPECIES TOOK ONE LOOK AT THE E ROOM AND RAN AWAY vulcan science academy why do you need another warp core humans we're going to plug two of them together and see t we go twice as ast vsa last time we gave you a warp core you threw k into a sun to see if the surn humans hahaha yeah s IT EXPLODED humans it exploded twice as fast I love this. Especially because of how wel plays with my headcanon that the Federation does so much bemer against the Borg than anyone else because beating the Borg with mitary tactics is nigh-impossble, but beating them with wacky supersclence shenanigans works as long as they're unique wacky Yeah, I love this. Reminds me of the thing I wrote a whle back about Humans in high fantasy realms- they're basically Team Fuck it Hold My Beer I Got This Impulsive, passionate to faut the social structures they build to try and regulate this hotheadedness ironicalty creates even greater levels of sheer buill-headedness. Even their "cooler heads take action in monng or weeks Al their great heroes of the past were impossbly rash by galacoc standards Humans Just Go With It, which is ther great flaw but also their greatest strength roachpatiol Ingons: okay we dont get vulcan science academy get what ingons: you vulcans are a bunch of stutfy prisses but you're also tougher stronger, and smarter than humans in every single way ingons: why do you let them run your federation vulcan science academy look ukan sdience academy: this s a species where you give them two warp cores they don't do experiments on one and save the other for if the frst one up ucan science academy: this is a species where you give them two warp cores, mey wil ask for a third one, immediabely plug all three into each other punch a hole into an artemate universe where humans subscribe to an even more destructive ideological system, fight everyone in R because theyre offended by that, steal meir warp cores, plug those together, punch ther way back here, then try to burn a nearby sun into a torus because that was wha neir initial scientric experment was for and they dien't want to waste a trip ucan science academy: they did that last week we have the weite-up right here. it's getting published in about six hundred scientific jounals across two hundred aiterent discipines because of how many established theories their dculous Ittle expednon has just caled into question. also, they did turn that sun into a torus, and no one actuaily knows how vulcan science academy s i why we ler mem do whatever the hee mey ingons..can we be a part of your federation the-real-seebs Come to think of it, I mean. Look at the Trst human warp drive thing in the movie. That was. Not how Vuicans would have done t you know what the best evidence for this is? Deep Space 9 amost never broke and back, sure almost none of the truly welird shit hat befel Voyager and all the starships hat imtated O'Bnen to Enterprise what was the weirdest malfunction 09 ever had? the senior stat geting brapped as holosuite characters in Our Man Bashr, and that was because a human decded to just dump the transporter buter Into the station's core memory and hope everything would work out somehow which is a bt like swapping your compuner's hard drive out for a memory card from a Play Station 2 and expecing to be able to play a game of Spyro the Dragon with your you know what I'm not done wth this post let's talk about the Pegasus the USS Fuckng Pegasus, testoed for tme first Stameet cloaking device. here we have a handful of humans working in secret to develop a cloaking device in olation of a treaty wh the Romulans they're playing catchup trying bo develop a technology other species have had for a century and what do the do? do they decide to duplicate a Romulan cloaking device precisely, just see if hey can match what other species have? nope. they decide, hey whle were at it, while we're building our very first one of these mings just to find out r this s possibie, lers see we can make mis thing phase us out ofnormal space so we can fy through planets wnile we're invisible but wihy said the one Vulcan in the room because that would fucking rule said the humans, high-hving each other Red Bul mere must be like twenty dfferent counseling groups for non-human engineering students at Starfleet Academy, and every week in every single one of them someone waks in and starts up with a story ke 'our assignment was o repair a phaser emitter and my one human classmate buit a chronometric- tux toaster that toasts bread aner yourve eaten it MacGuyver" is the equivalent of Vulcan vintage human horror belevision during orientation at a human coliege, vulcans are presented with a ist of what is the word tuck for," the innocent young ulcans want to know. "surely mere are more logical intensty moaitiers yeah, yourd think so. say the weary jaded vulcan professors. "youd real)y here is a phrase in vulcan for the particular moment you understand what he This is why the Federation is the only organisation to ever stand a chance The Borg can adapt to the brilant miltary strategies of the Romulan Star Empire. the koingons and even the cold logical imellectual prowess of tme The Borg weren't prepared for a starship captain to hare them, into his 50% nor detective holo-novel and then machine gun them to death with a weapon made of hard light

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter 11 is (halfway) here! It ended up totally out-of-hand so I chopped it in half, and you’ll get the second half tomorrow morning, which is now, I guess, chapter twelve.

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

“I expected it to look more haunted,” Clay says, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and staring in the window, where the name Wright Anything Agency is written in two different fonts – one for Wright and one for Agency – and one clearly-by-hand scrawl – on Anything, and Apollo remembers Trucy ripping the stickers from the window to rename the office within his first two days being there. “Like, some cobwebs, broken glass, y’know – the works.”

The door is unlocked and Trucy is kneeling on the couch, leaning over the coffee table, one hand keeping herself propped above the paper, the other holding the magatama up to her eye like a monocle. She clacks it down loudly before looking up. “Hey Apollo! And – is this your roommate? Did you bring him after all?”

“You must be Trucy,” Clay says with a grin, but Apollo watched him glance up at the doorway as they entered, looking for warding charms that aren’t there, and he doesn’t offer his hand to Trucy to shake. “I’m Clay. Nice to meet you.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “Awesome!” She unfolds herself and springs off the couch, over the table, and lands with unexpected grace on her feet. “Polly said he wasn’t gonna ask you for help but here you are!”

“Polly?” Clay repeats, incredulously, turning his head with his eyes wide in an owlish way to grin at Apollo. He regrets everything.

“You are not allowed to call me that.”

As Trucy explains to him the situation and what secret knowledge the paper is supposed to yield to them, Apollo picks up the magatama and tosses it in his hand several times. Now that he isn’t caught by surprise, now that he isn’t looking through it and horrified by what he sees, it feels like just an ordinary stone in his hand – a little cold, but that goes away in the warmth of his palm. How long has Phoenix had it, he wonders, and slowly raises it up to his eye. Clay looks like Clay, and over Trucy’s shoulder he raises an eyebrow at what Apollo is doing – but Trucy is surrounded by a soft green mist, the glowing wisp of blue and pink at her shoulder. She waves a hand, gesturing something, and there is a flash of gold near her hand, on her arm, before she turns and Apollo quickly, guiltily, lowers the magatama.

“Yeah, I looked at the page with that,” she says, obviously assuming that he was trying to puzzle out the mystery they were discussing instead of the mystery that she is. “Nothing. If it’s magic, it’s more involved than I know, and if it’s not – we’ll figure it out.”

Clay jumps at the knock on the door. “You don’t have to be so twitchy,” Trucy says, and before she has picked her way through the mess to the door, it opens and Ema enters, looking as disheveled as ever. Apparently she wears a lab coat in her time off, too, just with jeans and sneakers. “Ema! Yay! You made it!”

“Sure did.” She swings her bag from her shoulder and drops it on the coffee table, where it sits heaped, awkwardly positioned but apparently stable. “Not like I had weekend plans, so sure, I’m game for cursebreaking or whatever. Haven’t thought about doing anything like this in years.” She casts a glance around the office, her gaze softening as it lands on the plant, Mr Charley, in the corner, and the tall dusty bookshelves. “Been even longer since I was here.” There’s something almost wistful in her voice. Apollo remembers how immediately she warmed up to him and Trucy when they said they were with Phoenix. “Anyway, who’re you?” She jabs a finger at Clay.

“Er – Clay Terran.” The look Ema casts at him is disdainful, her eyebrows raised in continued questioning. “Apollo’s roommate.”

“Ah. So he tricked you into joining us on this batshit goose chase?”

“I did not trick him!” Apollo protests, while Clay laughs.

“He used to say I was suspicious and paranoid, and now look who’s laughing.” Clay’s grin collapses at the corners, while his mouth remains open. “None of us are laughing. It all sounds a little fucked up.”

“You’d be overly suspicious if I had worked at any other law office,” Apollo says. If Clay wasn’t one degree of separation from the Wrights and the Gavins, if Clay’s roommate was anyone else and had any other life, this wouldn’t need to be happening. This wouldn’t be happening, and his caution would seem eccentric, excessive.

“Eh,” Clay says. “But LA still sure is a city, y’know?”

Clay had asked Mr Starbuck about witches and gotten an answer full of fear. Everyone in the greater LA area has a story about a friend of a friend of a friend who brushed elbows with something terrifying, just distant and small enough to them that the rest of the world doesn’t pay much mind. Apollo sometimes wishes that when he was dropped in this country he was dumped in San Diego. He could live with its celebrity-movie-tv culture because it isn’t this culture and the mountains to the north.

“So what’ve you got so far, Trucy?” Ema asks. “Magatama?”

Trucy shakes her head. “I looked through it and nothing. And last night I heated it over a candle, to see if it was invisible ink—”

“You’re probably lucky you didn’t set it on fire,” Apollo says.

Trucy continues with no change to her expression, either not having heard him or, more likely, her great acting skills at work. “—so if it’s invisible ink, it’s got to be revealed by something other than heat, and if it’s magic it’s…” She throws her hands in the air. The frustration now written on her face is of an intensity Apollo has never seen. He’s used to Trucy the actress, the performer, her mask of cheer upheld no matter what. “It’s some magic I don’t know, I guess!”

That’s her family’s legacy, there, that diary page in that pink envelope. That’s all she has left, and it’s dangling out of her reach. No wonder she’s frustrated.

“Would he really just, basically, stick it behind a locked door and throw away the key?” Clay asks. From what Phoenix had to say about Magnifi, Apollo isn’t sure that he wouldn’t. “It was given to you, right? So there’s got to be a way for you to find it.”

Trucy paces a small circle around the clearest patch of floor. “He didn’t give it to me – he gave it to my dad, and I don’t know what he knew how to do, and he never went after it in seven years, so he couldn’t figure it out, either!”

“Or never tried,” Ema says.

Trucy stops moving. “But why wouldn’t he try?”

“Well…” Ema sits on the arm of the couch, knocking her heels against the floor. “It’s easier to carry a piece of paper that – we don’t even know what we’ll find with this, yeah? ‘The source of his magic’, that could be some incorporeal font of energy, that could be a big fuckin’ spellbook – we don’t know, and maybe your father didn’t either. And when you’re a fugitive from the law you don’t want to be weighed down by something more than an envelope – not,” she adds, holding up one finger, “that I have ever been a fugitive from the law.”

“That was gonna be my immediate question,” Clay says. “If you were speaking from experience, and—” He tilts his head to listen to the streets outside, the melody of the city, the traffic and distant sirens fading in and out. “They found you.”

“Daddy says if I want to barricade the door to not use the piano,” Trucy says. She is smiling again a little and Apollo is grateful to Clay for that. “He says his desk would be best.”

“I don’t want to know why you’ve discussed this,” Apollo says.

“Oh, I totally do,” Ema says. She drums her fingers against the couch and then her cheek. “In seriousness, though. Trucy. Another possibility: do you know if there could have been something else he was running from?”

Apollo is about to object, on basis of there being no evidence to point in this direction, on it being no more than a shot in the dark, and – though he doesn’t want to voice it in front of Trucy – on this conversation probably already having gotten painful enough because it centers around her disappeared, murdered father. But he looks at Ema’s face and stops. Her eyes are hard, her jaw tight. “Someone he didn’t want to lead back to this magic?”

“I – n-no.” Trucy looks confused more than upset, her eyebrows sinking into a sharp V. “He didn’t have enemies” – there’s a murder case to contradict that point, and Apollo isn’t going to say that, either – “and I – I guess he could have been trying to keep it from Uncle Valant, but they were friends, but they were – no.” She raises her chin. “No. He wouldn’t be afraid of Uncle Valant.”

Even though the man did try to get him framed for murder.

“And Valant knew all the same magic that he did, so he wouldn’t need to wait for him to figure it out and follow him, he could do the same if he had the page—”

“Alright.” Ema holds up her hands but it doesn’t stop Trucy’s chattering, like she thinks she can piece together the mystery if she just talks through it all. “So maybe not. Maybe it’s just about running from the law – whatever we’re looking for is probably too close to the city for him to get back to it.” She lets herself fall backwards onto the couch, her legs hooked over the arm. “Let’s think about this scientifically.”

“It’s magic,” Clay says. “It’s like, diametrically opposed to—”

“It doesn’t have to be!” Still laying sprawled, Ema raises her arm and jabs an objecting finger in the air. “There’s patterns, and some rules, and it’s absolutely inaccurate to say that you couldn’t study it scientifically!” She lets her arm drop. “It’s just… super difficult, since people are so afraid.”

“With good reason,” Apollo says.

He thinks of Vera.

He thinks of the heavy black noose around Phoenix’s neck.

“Hear out this possibility: it’s not about how we look at it, but where.”

“Is our plan really to travel to Faeryland to look at a piece of paper?” Clay asks.

“Just stick it in a faery ring,” Ema says.

“Which entails stepping inside it yourself—”

“Don’t worry! I’ve got this one!” Trucy runs for the precarious shelves near the piano, fishing out from behind them a hula hoop that she flings to the floor. “Here we go!”

“Wait,” Apollo says. “You told me specifically that isn’t a faery ring.”

“Not without specifically invoking it as such,” Trucy says. “If you don’t want it to be when you step in it, it won’t.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Ema sits up and leans herself over the back of the couch. “Well?” she asks.

“I’m getting to it!” For all her apparent eagerness and confidence in bending (metaphorically) the hoop-ring to her will, Trucy still hesitates, hitching up her shoulders and with them, the diary page, nearly in front of her face, before she takes one large step into the center of the hula hoop. Apollo doesn’t know what he expects – an ugly transformation, like Kristoph’s, glamour stripped away to some terrible truth –

But she’s human. Of course she’s human, and her shape doesn’t change; rather, it seems to light up, soft green pulsing around her like an aura, a little purple ball of mist at the side of her head, hard golden light at her wrist, and the ever-present wisp Mr Hat bobbing around her shoulders.

“Nothing,” she says, spinning on her heel and lowering the diary page and stepping forth from the ring before Apollo can see her face, if there is anything about her eyes. She kicks the hoop halfway under the couch. "What if --" She taps her chin, lets the page fall from her gloved hands. "No. Ema, what do you know about invisible ink?"

"I doubt it," Ema replies. Trucy's frown deepens. "Me if I was hiding something, sure, but magic is your family's thing. Why turn away from it then?"

"But that's exactly why he would," Trucy says. "Keep it extra safe in a way nobody expects."

"Is it possible," Clay asks, "for there to be some sort of enchantment on it that needs to be nullified, like with salt or iron or something?"

"Maybe," Trucy says, "but we don't really keep much of either around here, except when we get Eldoon's for lunch--"

"Here." Apollo removes the ring from his finger and offers it to Trucy. Clay blinks at it, the obvious question on his lips -- “You still wear that?” and if they have to discuss this Apollo is never going to hear the end of it even though there’s plenty of good reasons to keep iron on hand thankyouverymuch-- but the catastrophic crash from within the bathroom draws far more attention.

“Was that a window?” Ema asks.

They creep forward together like a shuffling pack of penguins to cautiously peer into the room that doesn’t have windows. The light is on, glinting off the shards of mirror where they lay fallen, shattered, on the floor. “Oh,” Trucy says. She straightens up and puts her hands on her hips, like she’s scolding the mirror or the room itself. “Daddy’s going to be mad he has to get a new one.”

Or, more likely, the man Apollo knows won’t bother to replace that. Ema might share that opinion, from the look she gives him from behind Clay. He’s wondering whether to vocalize that thought when Trucy gasps, clapping her hands to her face and spinning about to face them. “Of course!” she cries. “Mirrors – reflections – somewhere else! Where we look at it!”

“What are you talking about?” Ema asks.

“Gramarye!”

“Yeah,” Clay says. “Yeah, that’s your name—”

She pushes them aside to dash back into the main office, snatching up the diary page and brandishing it in the air like a flag. “We had our own place! The Gramaryes! Our own little pocket to live in, to pop up wherever people were looking for us!” Her purse sits on the piano and she digs from within it a small compact mirror that she holds in her palm in front of her like she is presenting it to someone. “Gramarye, Gramarye, Gramarye!”

The air in front of her ripples, like a pebble dropped in a pond, and when it solidifies again she stumbles, wobbling back toward the coffee table. Apollo puts out a hand to stop her before she trips over it. “That’s - that’s harder than I remember it was,” she says, making no move to support herself on her own two feet again and still leaning against Apollo’s arm. “Maybe because it’s been so long -- Gramarye!” Apollo prepares himself to be bowled over on her falling backwards again, but this time, the ripples begin on the tiny surface of the mirror and spread outward, down to the floor, shimmering silver and darkening on the inside. Apollo gives Trucy a small shove to nudge her back onto steady footing. “Ha! I did it!”

“What the hell,” Clay says.

A quivering archway stands in front of them, and on the other side of it, wooden stairs that disappear into the dark. It doesn’t look like it belongs in the world, like it’s just two dimensions. The mirror in Trucy’s hand has turned black.

“Maybe in here we can read this stupid paper!” She holds it aloft, triumphantly, and for her sake Apollo hopes that this is the answer, but -- she’s not going to try and drag them all down there, is she? “C’mon! What’s everyone waiting for?”

Oh, she is.

“What the hell,” Ema says, and it is not the question that Clay’s was but rather a verbal shrug, a casual acceptance, and she slings her bag back over her shoulder. “Let’s see if this works.”

Apollo looks at Clay. He’s been the voice of inconsistent caution in Apollo’s life, urging him toward Klavier and away from everything else that seems shifty, and now they are here. Here they are, and Clay has to decide how deep into this mess to step. Apollo already decided, a while ago, for Trucy’s sake if nothing else, for all they have in common, for all she’s lost. “I can’t say I’m not curious,” Clay says.

“Then don’t.”

“Or that this is anything but a bad idea.”

“Then don’t.”

“C’mon, guys!” There is an ethereal echo to Trucy’s shout, warped and warbling up the shadowy stairs.

“But you’re going to anyway.” Clay’s stare is nothing magical, nothing supernaturally insightful, nothing more than steady years of knowing Apollo, but it’s enough to read him. “With or without me, because of her.”

Because Apollo knows all about being shut out in the cold by a family of magic. “Yeah,” he says.

“Well, then, fuck.” Clay slaps Apollo on the shoulder, which serves to push him a little closer to the yawning mouth of magic. “For better or probably worse, we go together.”

He still lets Apollo venture ahead of him, down steps that creak with a promise of their corporeality but Apollo doesn’t trust to crumble to ash beneath his feet. The walls are tight and grow tighter as they descend, another illusion of solidity -- is it an illusion when Apollo can feel it but knows it’s summoned and disappears on a whim? The light at the bottom of the stairs, when it appears, spills forth through a rectangular doorway, cold yellow and wholly unwelcoming.

Trucy stands stock-still just to the side of the threshold, her hand frozen in the air in the midst of snapping her compact mirror shut. Ema’s hands are clasped behind her back so as to touch nothing by mistake or absentmindness. There is a couch, faded as though by sunlight, standing tilted on three legs, the fabric torn and threads fraying. Maybe it was once pink, or gray; whatever it was probably clashed in color with the gold hexagonal table, and certainly clashed in style. The chandelier is gold, suspended from its fixture by wires, and the light flickers. There is more to the room, but it sinks into shadows and bunched-up carpeting.

“It used to be…” Trucy’s hand slowly falls. She misses slipping her mirror into her purse and it thumps to the thick carpeting, faded just like the fabrics. Purple, once, perhaps? Red? “It used to be more. So much more.”

She did say it had been a long time. How long -- seven years long? “I’m sorry.”

Clay stoops and offers Trucy the mirror back. “It’s okay,” she lies. Apollo can see it’s a lie, hear it’s a lie, her forced cheer cracking at the end of the words. “I’m -- oh! Look!” That is genuine, enough to cause Ema to turn around, all of them to look at Trucy and the diary page she has triumphantly held out, a looping black script curling slowly across its surface. “This was it!”

“What’s it say?” Clay asks. “What’s it say!”

They crowd around Trucy, a little huddle all craning to see the page and what appears to be a map slowly unfolding as though drawn by an invisible hand. Only north and west are marked on the compass in the top left corner of the page before, in the bottom right, a diamond is marked, with a diamond inside and beveled corners, like Trucy’s broach. From it, a thin dotted line extends on a curving path northwest to the cluster of mountains, where at the base, a spade like on a deck of playing cards fills in black.

“That’s not entirely helpful,” Ema says. “We know we’re going toward the mountains, but that’s a bit of a broad area.”

“No, look.” Trucy wiggles the page back and forth and Apollo would swear that the inked diamond doesn’t move with it. “I think it’ll show us, where we are, how close, now that it’s activated.”

Like a little magic GPS to lead them up to the mountains of Kurain, the place in the world that Apollo wants to travel to least. “So,” Trucy says, her voice suddenly loud in the silence, “do any of you have a car?”

“Finally, my time to shine,” Clay says.

“Great!” Trucy is bounding on her heels now, her smile, if a little smaller, back on her face. “At your apartment? Where is that? I can get us there.”

“What?” Apollo asks. “How?”

“This door can open anywhere,” Trucy explains, leaning over Clay’s arm to look at something on his phone. A map? Photographs of their apartment? Fear courses through Apollo as he imagines Trucy materializing in the living room at midnight to drag him on some horrific adventure. “So if we know when we leave that we’ll end up at your apartment, then we will.”

“No way,” Apollo says. “I’ll believe that when I see--”

Trucy, without looking at him, slaps him on the arm. “No! You have to believe it will work. Otherwise it won’t!”

That means something important, and also nothing at all. Magic doesn’t make sense is the moral.

“Yeah, I believe it,” Ema says. “Shit happens around Mr Wright.”

Trucy straightens, propping her hands on her hips. “Okay!” she says authoritatively, her voice like a gavel, an announcement of something ending, or beginning. “Everyone ready to go?” She hooks her arm around Apollo’s elbow. “So you,” she says sternly, “don’t get lost with all your skepticism.”

“I’m a lawyer,” he protests. “I deal in evidence.”

And evidence is --

Well.

It’s part of something. But with everything Apollo’s seen, a jury might easily come to the conclusion, believe what Trucy says will happen, will happen.

Apollo hadn’t realized there had been a door at the bottom of the stairs, and that it closed behind them, until Trucy extends her hand with a flourish to the solid wall and it opens for her, a rectangular mouth back up into darkness. “Maybe,” she says, “you should all just hang onto each other so that no one gets lost.”

“What would happen if we did?” Clay asks nervously. He takes Trucy’s advice by putting a death grip on Apollo’s shoulder, like his caution and wisdom have finally caught up to him, a little late for this situation he’s found himself in.

“Probably just end up back at the office,” Trucy answers, “but maybe somewhere in the city in between there and your apartment.” She shrugs. The motion jostles Apollo too.

“As long as we don’t end up in limbo somewhere,” Clay mutters.

With the way Trucy is holding his arm, Apollo can’t walk facing forward up the stairwell. He moves with something a little more like a stumbling crab-step, tripping on the uneven stairs as Trucy, without care or hesitation, drags them on. She stops, and he hopes it is before the door, but he can’t see to know, and her wisp lights up the darkness with swirling pink and blue lights, putting them back in a blackness that seems even deeper when it dips forward and vanishes instantly. Trucy’s voice rings out clear, without an echo. “Okay. Let’s go.”

This door opens like the first entrance did, the littlest window spilling outward, like a bright pupil in an eye responding to darkness. Trucy tugs Apollo’s arm and they all shuffle forth into a parking lot, the blacktop potholed and the parking lines faded. Apollo turns around to see their door, their portal, slowly close like the denouement of a yawn.

“No fucking way,” Clay says.

Apollo lifts his head. Behind them, above them, is the back side of their apartment building.

[shsummertimefest-blog]

Enjoy, @onthecyberseas!

Surprise OnTheCyberSeas!!🎊🎉🎊🎉 I’m your Summer Fest Gifter!!!  I really, really hope you like this LOL 💚💚💚 HUGE HUGE  thanks for the lovely souls Kriszti and Mac for letting me vent and for the Beta work 😁

~*~

Lydia plops the plate onto the countertop in front of  Alec, a tense moment of them just eyeing the dessert promptly following. But her steely gaze never falters, a set jaw telling Alec she’s ready to fight him on any critique…of which there is aplenty if there’s anything he has to say about it.

“‘S too much frosting.”

“I like frosting,” Lydia grits out through clenched teeth,  her glower only deepening further, and honest to God Alec wouldn’t be surprised if she just started too stomp her feet and shoved  the pastry straight into his face out of frustration.

“It takes away from the cake itself.”

“Fine,” she snarls. “I’ll scrape it off. Anything else oh great arbiter of baked goods.”

Alec kindly chooses to ignore the snub, and moves to instead pick out a toothpick from the jar sitting precariously atop a shelf over his shoulder, piercing it into the slice of cake before him. “The middle’s too raw.”

“Is not,” Lydia squawks, hands flying to her hips. “You just have some anti raspberry agenda! Admit it!“ She waggles an accusatory finger at him.

“And if I did?”

“Well if I owned this joint, I’d let my hired bakers make whatever they please, and have total and complete faith in their pallets.”

“Good thing ’s not your bakery then,” he snarks back loftily, focusing more on the piping of some hedge  fund banker’s anniversary cake, than on Lydia’s increasingly reddening face—Most probably looking like she might actually start fuming from her ears if you know—this were a Disney cartoon or some shit.

Alec here’s Lydia’s frantic sputtering before the tell tale smack of the kitchen door slamming shut.

“Why is Lydia cursing your name while smashing together a bunch of fresh pastries? Ooo wow the girl’s got some rhyming skills.” Izzy perches atop the stool opposite Alec, looking out of place in the vanilla scented, wet doe splattered kitchen in her pencil skirt and razor tipped red bottom heals.

“She was trying to get me to sell that raspberry concoction again.”

“Hey, I like her raspberry cheesecake,” Izzy defends with pinched lips, a discrete finger scraping across one of the bowls strewn across the counter top before  licking it clean.

“Yeah,” Alec scoffs, spinning the cake to the next side. “Maybe if we were an amateur bakery run by a single mom out of her kitchen.”

Izzy cuffs him on the back of the head. “Rude.”

“Factual.”

She sighs through her nose. “You are such a neurotic perfectionist, do you know that?”

“You say that as if it’s news,” he needles with a hiked brow, Izzy’s lips twisting up in exasperated annoyance.

“Fine I’ll tell you something you don’t know loser,” she stretches across the island to smooth her thumb across his forehead consolingly. “IF you don’t learn how to actually relax, you’re gonna start getting premature wrinkles. And we don’t want this pretty face disappearing before ‘s time, do we?”

Alec smacks her away where Izzy’s moved to start pinching his cheek—like they were kids again and she was taunting him about his crush on Mr. Starkweather.

“You’re a pain.”

“You say that as if its news,” she parrots all too smugly, and Alec can’t help but smirk right back.

“Extra! Extra! Hot off the presses!” Max shouts out from where he’s marching through the doorway, ever a little shit.

“What the hell! Do you have to be so loud? It’s like eight in the morning.”

“Oh ho, big brother don’t you give me that attitude now,” Max kisses Izzy’s expecting cheek, leaning besides her. “I’ve got some intel on Code Name Sparkles.”

“Code Name Sparkles?” Izzy deadpans with a decidedly disapproving  glower. “Dios, do you think you guys are actually in the FBI or something?”

“Oy, I’m affronted big sister,” Max grapples for his chest, pained. “The CIA is way more bad ass , and if it were not for the laws of this land, I would have you slain for your insolence.”

Izzy just rolls her eyes before locking her  arm around his neck., and  grinding her knuckles into his scalp.

“Ouch, fuck ouch! Iz! Uncle! Okay! Uncle, uncle! I give up, women are superior in every way! Your prettier than that dumb racist Ariana Whiteclaw from your finance class! You can totally borrow my car whenever you want!” Finally satisfied, Izzy pulls off with a smirk, and readjusts his bangs.

Alec watches the tableau  with a very subdued downturn of his lips.

“Okay, now that you guys are done, Max, you said you had something on Bane?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Max straightens. “They’re having a huge half off any dozen purchased sale this Saturday at Pandemonium.” He passes over an almost obscenely pink flier.

“You mean the same exact day that we’ve been planning to reveal our brand new cake design for the past three months?” Alec seethes, almost ripping the paper in half with an iron clad grip.

“Ah, I guess—maybe it was a coincidence or something?” Max reasons with a noncommittal shrug, far more interested in the chocolate croissant he’s currently munching down, over any potential calls to arms that Alec’s way too close to declaring. “Dot just told me bout it today.”

With a start, Alec cuts a skewering glower at him, “That better not be a fucking croissant from the enemy Max.”

His lips pinch with a peevish scoff.  . “Hey! Don’t bite my head off, It’s the only way I could flirt her up on a daily basis, Dot said that if I came back a hundred days straight with an original come on, and buying something from Pandemonium,  that she’d let me buy her lunch, and tell me her favorite color. But I can’t miss a day or else I’ll have to start over.”

“She’s dating Maia! You do realize that right? You understand  that she’s just playing you to spend your money there!” Alec feels like he might faint of fatigue over his sibling’s almost blasé attitude over this very real rivalry against everything that has to do with  Magnus Bane and all his stupid hotness—NO! Not hotness! Stupidness—All his stupid stupidness! That’s what Alec meant—he definitely does not find Magnus Bane attractive in the least.. And even if he did, that would not detract from the fact that he is a total assmunch who’s trying to run Heavenly Sweets out of business.

“Oh hush Alec,” Izzy toots, carding a fond hand through Max’s mop of curls. “He’s in love.”

“She’s the enemy! We can’t be fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Doesn’t stop you from checking out Magnus’s ass any chance you get,” Max huffs, with a pointed crossing of the arms.

“That—That is not true! Slanderous! I have never! Nor would I ever! With the enemy? As if!” Izzy starts to cackle, and Max smirks like the cat who’s gotten into the cream. Alec hates them both. This is why Jace is his favorite.

“Jace told me that you were drooling last week when you ran into him headed to his yoga class,” Izzy snorts…And scratch that. Alec hates them all, every single one of them. He’s disowning himself—No better yet, Alec’s gonna fire’m all and pick out his own, personalized siblings. One’s who  don’t tease him about nonexistent crushes, or broad around in his personal life, or eat half the merchandize before they could even get them out on the display to lure in paying customers. Honestly they’re all such blunders, Alec would  be better off just starting with a clean slate.

Izzy just gives him a vapid, unimpressed look, as if she could read Alec’s every thought and is not amused in the least, —)Which actually maybe quite possible considering how she’s a certified, scientific super genius and is only helping out with Heavenly Sweets’ number crunching on her downtime between taking over the world, and going on romantic holidays with Clary. But not the point.

The point is that Bane is a bonafide douchesnozzle supreme, and Alec needs to beat him playing his own game.

“Staff meeting, in ten minutes stat!”

“That’s definitely not how you use the word stat…”

“Not the time Iz! We’re planning full out warfare!”

“Ah—Right?”

Max leans close to her ear, “I think our little Alexander has lost a few marbles.”

If he had the time, Alec would point out how he’s got a good five inches on Max—but he doesn’t because Magnus’s stupid face is searing through the paper in his hands and boring into Alec—taunting him, nudging him to do better, be better.

“This means war.”

“More than a few Maxy,” Izzy groans. “more than a few.”

~*~

Alec met Magnus for the first time on a Tuesday afternoon.

At first Alec mistook him for a costumer, and he was just this beautiful enigma that Alec couldn’t stop marveling over. All impossible cheekbones, and eyes that flashed molten when they hit the light just right, and a charisma that appeared to enrapture any and every passerby. And then his smile, his fucking smile, just a little, upturn of the lips, but it was so totally disarming.  A small gesture  that promised elicit nights and swept away whispers, and scorching touches on throbbing skin. And Alec just couldn’t reign in the hunger to lick off every rogue spec of frosting that dotted Magnus’s beautiful face…

But then he thrust out his hand, and opened his mouth.

“Hello, I’m the owner of Pandemonium—the bakery right next door.” he gave Alec a deliberate once over, leering in that coquettish way that tells Alec that Bane likes what he sees—And he might be just a tad bit smug that the visceral   attraction is mutual. “sorry if we end up running you out of business cheekbones, you understand ’s just the rules of the jungle. Nothing personal on my end.”

At that, Alec kind of jolts back, affronted. “Put the champagne on ice, why don’t ya?” He scoffs derisively, to which Magnus just fucking beams, as if this is a fun little game he’s amused by—a dog chewing on his favorite toy. (Yiyks, Alec should definitely not imagine Magnus’s mouth doing anything to anything related to a bone…far too dangerous of a picture.)

“You sound doubtful towards my sincere apology,” he noted, rocking back on his heels.

“Ever heard of not counting your chickens before there hatched?” Alec needled with a one eyed squint.

“No, I must admit that particular idiom has never crossed my mind cheekbones.”

“Is that right sparkles—“ Okay, so admittedly a whole hell of a lot less charming than cheekbones, but it’s factual. Magnus’s got on this shimmering gloss, and his jewelry is all bright and shiny—and his personality…It’s just all sparkly and Alec’s always been a man of facts over opinion. It’s a fact that Magnus Bane is an all around sparkly guy.

“Well yes, it’s not necessary to heath that particular  warning if you’re always right, don’t you agree  pretty boy.”

And that was it. Their fate was sealed.

IF Alec was anything, it was competitive. So now it was his fucking duty to not only thrive, but turn the tables and make it so Pandemonium was the one hanging for dear life, and it was Alec offering up his condolences to the dying business.

Oh yeah, it’s so on.

Alec is going to destroy him. It’s law now…Admittedly not a very easy one to follow when Magnus is standing there before him, all haughty smirks and double edged words…But he can’t let a pretty face fuck him over.

“We’ll see about that Sparkles.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

~*~

It takes more like fifteen minutes for everyone to meander into the dank break room in the back of Heavenly Sweets, save for Izzy who magnanimously offered to man the register up front. (“Anything to get out of listening to Alec’s insane diatribe  against Bane for the third time this week.” “I heard that Iz.” “You were suppose to loser, and while you’re listening take my advice and finally quench that thirst.” “I’m leaving.” “You know I’m right.”)

She is so wrong. Izzy is so wrong that Alec and all his entire one and a half semesters of law school could not begin to articulate each and every way she is mistaken. Seriously—it’s just a time concern, that’s why he can’t list off the reasons Izzy’s wrong—Alec’s to busy conducting a very important meeting that is not all about lamenting over Bane, and everything he has ever done that proves how awful of a human being he is.

A very important meeting.

“So, hold up,” Jace raises a placating hand after Alec’s finally finished.  “You want us to come up with three brand new flavors to premier on the ninth?”

“Yes, what’s so hard to understand about that,”

“And then we’re gonna have a fifty percent off sale on every transaction—“ Raj tacks on doubtfully.

“Glad to see you’re all literate.,” he sniffs curtly.

“Bro, this wouldn’t have to do with a certain, sexy, owner for the opposing side, and your total rock hard woody for’m. Would it?” Max rolls back his entire head—obviously finding merely his eyes as to tame of a gesture to properly communicate his annoyance.

“I have no clue who you’re talking about,” Alec plays dumb.

“So the date was just a coincidence then?” Lydia challenges, her eyes sharpening,  and looking as if she might just start to give him a lecture about etiquette or how his brash attitude is completely off-putting. (It’s happened before, and yeeesh Alec was properly chastised, but mostly  just mournful for whenever John fucked up.).

“’s not important, this is our agenda for the next month. No questions asked.”

“Alec I love you, you know that right?” Jace’s face goes pained, but Alec just gesticulates with the paper in his hand  for him to continue.  “Don’t you think it’s gone a tad bit far…You know this rivalry thing—Like. both businesses  are pretty well off. THere’s no need to continuously be at each others throats like this.”

“The north never forgets Jace!” Alec flails, very nearly toppling over a whole stack of order forms. “This is full out warfare!”

“A game of baker hats wouldn’t you say?” Max provokes with a shit eating grin.

“Shut up Max.”

“Hey, I’m just saying we better have some bad ass dragons to help us out on the battlefield. Bane ’s pretty fierce, and trust me Dot’s a force to be reckoned with all her own,” he gets heart eyes,  earning a fist bump by Raj, a roll of the eyes by Lydia, and Alec shooting him what he hopes is the most terrifying glare Max has ever been on the receiving end of. (Well there mom is Maryse…So probably not, but it’s the effort that counts.)

“Listen, I’m just saying, the ninth is a big deal for Bane’s crew. That orphanage is locally owned, and they know the owner Catarina really good…and well  they’ve been doing this drive for like the past three years. It means a lot to’m.”

“How do you know it means a lot to them?” Alec spits out to an increasingly reddening Jace. And yeah, his suspicions that Jace’s been seeing that fucking Pandemonium cashier—Sheldon or whatever—on the sly, are being so totally proved as they speak.

NO loyalty, Alec swears, every last one  of them is sleeping with the enemy. Well not him, no, nope,, never Alec. His only intention in life is to destroy Bane, not to sleep with him. He has no interest in seeing all the lithe muscle Magnus oh so inconspicuously hides underneath apparel that makes Izzy green with envy—or to hear the way Magnus moans from being stretched out beneath him—or knowing how his face looks like when Alec is giving him the best fucking blow job  of Magnus’s entire life.

Yeah—none of that.

Alec is a fucking temple of zen—And its definitely not zen getting all heated over the prospect of fucking stupid Magnus and his fucking stupidness and just generally fucking Magnus stupid.

Alec tries drinking some ice water as discretely as possible.

“Look,” Jace tries to temp down his still blazing blush, but to no avail. “I’m just saying, they’re doing a good thing for a charitable cause, we shouldn’t mess around with that.”

“Oh but brother you missed the best part,” Alec leers before presenting them all with the cover photo of the local Animal Humane Society, that he had printed off right before they all ambled in.  “We’ll be donating that other fifty percent of the order to a local animal shelter.”

The room stays silent.

“Please, don’t bother keeping your applause to the end,” Alec snarks, tossing back the sheet of paper.

“So…We’ll essentially be making no money,” Raj deadpans.

“Not the point!” Alec reprimands with a huff. “The point is our name will get out there even more, and Bane won’t get any customers, and we’ll finally win!”

“Yeah, that definitely seems like a totally plausible sequence of events,” Lydia snorts flippantly.

“You guys should just fuck and get rid of the UST,” Max blithely recommends  from where he’s moved to practice balancing a spoon on his nose.

Alec pointedly ignores him.

“Man, I still feel like this ’s a bad idea.”

“Warning noted Jace, but I’m the manager and I say this goes full force ahead.”

“This is gonna end badly,” Lydia jeers with a sing-song sort of voice, helping Max tare off the spoon he’s somehow gotten plastered onto his face.

Again—they’re all such blunders.

~*~

“Lightwood!”

With a bit of a start, Alec pivots around to meet a very blotchy faced, and scowling Magnus. curious Hazel eyes piercing into very cross Brown ones.

“Bane, hate to chat, but thankfully I actually work for a living.”

“What the hell is this,” he pounds a finger into the neon flier Alec had commissioned Clary to make, one which advertises the sale, and charity event that  Heavenly Sweets will be holding.

“Paper…I didn’t think you were that daft.”

Magnus’s brows lower even more—Alec had no clue that such a deep vee could mold into the bridge of someone’s nose like that.

“You know what I meant,” he seethes. Alec should probably think it’s ridiculous that none of his staff is even bothering to glance there way, but has long ago been lectured by a very irritated Maia  how they all  have plenty better things to do than be witness to Alec and Magnus’s  little melodramas whenever one gets all huffy and decides to storm the other’s grounds of operation.

Even though  Alec is pretty sure he should still be concerned that one of them yells at the other so often that it no longer deserves even the slightest bit of attention, he always ends up just forgetting about the whole ordeal, unintentionally opting to just get distracted by everything Magnus whenever he so much as steps into a room, instead.

“Oh, you mean the sale we’re having?” Alec perks with a sneer.

“You know that we have our charity event for Loss’s Orphanage every year on that exact date.”

“Oh?” Alec blinks, eyes going owlish. “Is that right?”

“You are such a fucking piece of shit!” He fumes.

“Language Magnus, we’re in a professional setting,” Alec clucks his tongue and awaits the sharp comeback that Magnus always shoots back his way. Something debauched, and cunning and with a pixilated gleam to his eyes all the while. Probably an innuendo, or taunt about going somewhere a bit less professional—his words forever hugged with something this edge of dangerous. And Alec would just clip something back until they’re in the midst of a  full out repertoire that makes Alec feel alive and giddy and just more buoyant than he ever has before. (And then Alec would usually round the day out by shamefully jerking off to the little sparring match in the secure darkness of his loft, where he is never forced to face any unwanted feelings.)

But the thing is, Magnus never opens his mouth to drawl out  one of his artfully precise remarks.  He just stands there for a moment longer, glare deepening, and this look about him.

This look that kind of shakes Alec to his very core—and Alec doesn’t care how fucking pretentious or trite that sounds, the feeling’s factual.  Magnus is looking at him As if he could not believe the gall of Alec, as if Alec has just blazed across  this line they’ve been teetering on ever since they had first met. As if Alec had gone so far past it that Magnus can hardly recognize him. And Alec’s actually tempted to ask what makes this so much worse than all the other slights they’ve doled out to each other throughout the years, but then Magnus just gives a rough shaking to his head, and sashays out of the building without ever looking back, or tossing Alec one last smirk.

And Alec feels hollow for it.

~*~

“You’re sulking.”

“Am not.”

“Jace is he sulking?”

“Hmm, well he did just eat an entire bowl of uncooked doe…”

“I did not,” Alec harrumphs, giving each of them a downright mutinous glower, stirring the ingredients with much more force than necessary.

“Well denial is the first step,” Izzy commends with a nudge of her elbow.

“That’s for grief.”

“Yes, and you’re grieving how a certain someone hasn’t bothered to even speak with you since the incident that shall not be named.”

Alec gives her a very flat look. “I have no idea to whom you’re even speaking of,”

“Sure,” she sneers. “So then you don’t want any advice from either of us—you know two people who love you, and  are both in serious, fulfilling relationships themselves.” Jace doesn’t even try to flounder for a way to contend with Izzy, it’s basically common knowledge that he and that cashier have been sucking face for the past six months, no use in trying to deny it.

Alec’s gaze goes steely. “I don’t know why you think I’d want to relate with you and Clary or Jace and Stefan.”

“His name is Simon,” Jace cuffs him on the back of the head irritably.

“And you shouldn’t be sleeping with him in the first place.”

“oh, damn. Point,” they knuckle punch.

“Fine,” Izzy interrupts their little bro moment,  flipping back a lock of her hair facetiously. “I guess I won’t tell you about this major fight me and Clary had way back at the start of our relationship.”

It’s an involuntary  response when Alec strays his gaze to focus on her. and It’s something rote when Alec inclines his head, silently pushing her to continue, as if he were actually at all interested beyond the arbitrary older brother trying to protect his baby sister from the scum of the earth alertness.

Izzy’s smirk tells him she knows she’s caught him, hook line and sinker. “Well it wasn’t anything terribly serious, just about trying to balance our times so that we don’t sacrifice our relationship to all the other shit swarming around us. You know, just trying to get serious.”

“How did, erm,” Alec coughs, and tries to not sound so terse over how Izzy’s squeezed him into admitting how the severe lack of speaking with Magnus has effected him. “How did you guys resolve the issue.”

She beams like the fucking sun. “You’d never guess, it’s a totally retro practice!” Izzy leans closer, as if to divulge to Alec a long hidden cure to all relationship perils. “We spoke to each other, put everything on the table and went from there.”

Alec glares at her, but Izzy’s probably been long ago immune to Alec’s surliness considering they’ve been siblings for her entire life.

“I know, don’t go crazy over the sudden rush of information.”

“I loath you,” Izzy just pets him like mollifying an upset pug. “Does it actually work? Just talking I mean,” he directs the question to Jace, because again, he loathes Izzy.

Jace gives him a one armed shrug, “Worked last weekend when me and Si were trying to decide between Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars for our movie night.”

“Aww,” Izzy gushes, locking her arms around Jace’s bicep. “You guys are so totally like an old married couple.”

“Yeah, we are,” Jace’s face goes sickeningly fond, and his eyes look like they’re actually shining stars.

Alec’s heart gives a sudden thud when he thinks to how unbelievably happy  his siblings are with their other halves—even fucking Max and his unrequited reverence   over Dot.

Alec’s stomach twists when he pictures the face of the only person who has ever made him remotely that passionate.

~*~

He spends the remainder of the day telling himself that he won’t let Izzy or Jace’s words effect him, telling himself that he doesn’t care that he hasn’t spoken with Magnus since the verbal lashing Magnus gave him nearly three weeks ago. He tells himself that he’s fine, and he doesn’t need to see Magnus to alleviate this tension that’s begun filling the wholes that Magnus had once mended over with his megawatt smiles and dancing laughter that use to make Alec want to cocoon himself within it’s warmth.

Nope, he’s fucking the great wall of China, that’s how unmovable he is.

~*~

Alec is admittedly a very weak man when it comes to Magnus—and he won’t even bother to psychoanalyze that fact. So it’s unsurprising when later that day he finds himself standing outside of Magnus’s door, a tray of lemon squares in one hand, and hoping that they could convey how sorry he is to Magnus—even if Alec doesn’t know what it’s over.

“Okay Lightwood, you got this,” Alec hypes himself up, sucking in a breath before giving three quick wraps against the wood, holding in a gasp once detecting the subtle puttering of feet striding ever nearer.

Magnus swings open the door, finds Alec standing there, and promptly tries shutting it again.

“Whoe, just hold up,” Alec tries pushing his weight against the force, but fucking hell those bolding muscles are not just for show. Before the door could shut completely, Alec squeezes the lemon square tray to act as a temporary barrier.

“There’s nothing I want to say to you Lightwood,” Magnus growls, just glaring all the more mutinously.

“Okay, fine I’ll leave you alone,” Alec raises his hands up. “But I just don’t get why you’re angry, I mean we’ve always been in competition with each other. I don’t get why you find it so offensive that I bested you this time around.”

At that, Magnus’s pallor goes scarlet, and he moves so that he’s standing close enough that Alec could feel tendrils of Magnus’s warm breath skirting across his lips. “You don’t actually think I’m upset over this shitty rivalry, do you?”

Alec gulps dow a breath he hadn’t known he was holding—he thinks he never really knows what he’s doing where Magnus is concerned. “Well yeah—I mean why else?”

“God cheekbones I didn’t think you were this fucking dense.”

Alec parts his lips to retaliate, but then Magnus’s pressing a finger to his mouth in admonishment, and cutting his gaze to a clock behind him. (One of those posh, grandfather contraptions that only the elderly and people as staunchly fashion forward as Magnus, actually bother to keep in their homes.)

It’s still early, Alec knows that for sure. He had come straight hear after closing shop. It couldn’t be past quarter after three.

“C’mon, let me show you why I have a fucking problem with this shit you’ve pulled.”

Alec knows damn well he’d start spewing a thousand different questions, and would refuse to go anywhere until any of them were answered, if it were not for the fact that Magnus grabs his hand, and Alec kind of loses focus of everything but them, and where they’re interlocked, and how fucking good that looks, and how that’s not something someone should think about their fucking business rival.

Alec doesn’t care, because damn do they look good holding hands like that.

~*~

Alec isn’t really surprised when their little promenade through the congested Brooklyn streets ends with them standing outside of Loss’s Orphanage.

“Um, why are we here? I mean it’s not as if i didn’t know what charity you guys were donating to.”

“Just shut up for a while Lightwood,” Magnus bites back before strolling in.

He greets the pretty woman in the front, Catarina, easily, sharing a chemistry only developed between the closest of friends.

“Who’s this Magnus?” Catarina flashes Alec a kind grin after at least ten minutes of them catching up,  and he thinks she might’ve been an angel in another life.

“Cat, this is Alexander Lightwood, cheekbones, this woman deserves nothing but the upmost respect, so cut the bullshit now.”

Alec glares at him, and Cat’s smile goes mischievous. “Oh so this is the James Dean wet dream you couldn’t stop talking about?”

“Oh, woah there Cat, you feeling okay?” Magnus pounces to clamp a hand over her lips, and an arm around her shoulders—Alec just standing there very confused. “Those kids running you so ragged that you’ve started spouting nonsense  again?  

“I like him,” Cat tells Magnus in a stage whisper, ignoring his antics.

“Can’t say I feel the same way about you at the moment my dear.”

Cat’s laughter is something booming and lively. And Alec can definitely see how the pair have become such close friends—both larger than life, and seemingly standing on a pedestal that normal folks could only dream of reaching.

“Testy, testy. Well I’ll go grab Madzie, stay put and don’t do anything I wouldn’t while I’m gone.”

Magnus and Alec burn matching shades of scarlet.

“You were leaving, yes?”

Cat just follies him another smirk before disappearing into the back dormitories.

Alec is jolted back to being a kid, finding Jace in one of these orphanages after his fathers death, and then the elation he felt once the two close friends could finally regard each other as brothers. It’s a strangely bitter sweet sensation, and Alec wonders if any of the kids in here are another family’s future Jace—someone to make them finally feel whole, and complete.

“You’re uncomfortable being in a place like this?”

Alec is thrust back to the present.  “Huh, no…Why would you-?”

“You’v been pretty silent, even for your standards, since we’ve gotten here.”

Alec hadn’t noticed how close Magnus has gotten, his breath hitches with the proximity—the way Alec could take in every shadow that dances across Magnus’s lovely eyes, the way  he smelt like the most darling combination of sunlight and sandalwood—Alec could feel himself losing touch yet again, but he can’t help it. He thinks Magnus is the embodiment of a fucking fire—awing, and beautiful and consuming, but when it’s gone all it leaves in it’s wake is ash and burnt embers—he could most probably destroy Alec if he let him, and the worst part is…Alec would. Alec would let Magnus destroy him over and over and over again, and that’s so fucking dangerous that he gives a harsh shake to his head, and chides himself to focus, all the while ignoring the pang of longing that hits his chest.

“Ah, no. No not uncomfortable,. I guess maybe wistful’d be the best way to describe it?” Magnus kinks his brow in question. “My brother, Jace, he was adopted, and I guess I’m just thinking back to when we first got to call each other brothers. Me, him and Iz all got these weird matching tattoos that were suppose to symbolize thicker than blood or some shit. Even colored one in on Max’s leg when our mom wasn’t looking.”

Magnus laughs, and Alec thinks he could live in that sound for the next eon to come.

“Mangnus! Mangnus!” Before Alec really has time to process it, a little ball of kinetic energy, and thick curls is leaping into Magnus’s waiting arms. She has big brown eyes, and sparkles in her hair, and a smile that could rival the fucking sun.

“Look, look,” Crowing, she smacks a small hand against Magnus’s cheek, using the other to emphatically gesture towards her hair. “S’pose to be just like yours!”

“It’s lovely love, absolutely beautiful. I must have you do my hair one of these days.” The little girl, Madzie, beams.

“My darling, I’d like to introduce you to a new friend. This is Alexander, he’s here to play with us today.”

With all the vitality of a five year old, Madzie whips her head towards Alec—big, cat like eyes brightening ten fold once catching sight of him. “Oooo he’s pretty, just like you Mangnus! ’S he you’re boyfriend?”

Queue another round of awkward blushing.

“You’ve been talking to Catarina for too long,” Magnus mutters morosely, to which Madzie just titters with glee. “No pumpkin he’s just a friend.  Is that alright if he interrupts our playdate, just for today?”

“Hmm,” Madzie kicks against Magnus, wanting to be set down. Then, with assurance in her every step, she saddles up right to Alec, glaring up at him with a terribly adoring grimace. “Mangnus is the best,” she informs him.

“Ah, yes—I think he’s great also,” Alec offers timidly, knowing she wants a response but not knowing how to at the same time.

Madzie starts to rub her thumb against her little chin, assessing Alec—And Alec is really far too worried of what she’ll decide than what should be warranted.

“M’kay,” she finally decrees measuredly, taking his hand in her own, and then doing the same to Magnus. “C’mon, you can color in my unicorn.”

“I’m honored.” Madzie preens, and Alec’s overjoyed that he’s actually said something right.

~*~

It’s close to seven when Cat finally steps into the makeshift playroom and tells them that the orphanage will be closing for the night, and that Alec and Magnus have to see their way out.

It’s begun snowing once they finally meander into the open streets, and Alec can’t help but marvel at how the puffs of snow swirl around Magnus in a heavenly glow—It’s not the first time Alec has thought that Magnus is beautiful.

“I can see why you make such a big deal about that promotion at your bakery every year,” Alec shuffles closer to him, basking in the glow of fairy lights, and aroma of hot chocolate clogging the air. “Those children are remarkable.”

Magnus flickers his gaze up at him, a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips.

Alec feels lighter for it.

“Thank you Alexander, but I must admit my intentions are not as pure as merely adoring all the children, and Catarina to the moon and back.” Befuddled, Alec gives him a one eyed squint, hip checking him to continue.  “The little girl we were coloring and playing dress up with today-“

“Madzie.”

“Yes, Madzie.” Magnus’s gaze turns softer when realizing that Alec actually enjoyed his time today. “You see, I’ve been trying to adopt her-“

Stunned, Alec petrifies right there, in the middle of the sidewalk. “No shit.”

Magnus hikes up both his brows. “Surprised?”

“Yeah, I mean—I guess just a little. Fucking hell, for how long?”

Magnus let’s out a breath through his nose, before continuing his walk a bit more briskly. Alec almost needing to jog to catch up. “Three years.”

“Wholly hell, does it ordinarily take that long?”

“NO,” Magnus shakes his head solemnly. “But I’m a single, bisexual, man…Not exactly prime material for a candidate to adopt a little girl.”

“That’s fucked up, you love her. A fucking monkey from space can see that.”

Magnus let’s out a little huff of a laugh. “Yes, well I did feel an immediate kinship with her—but that really has no room in the logistics of the whole ordeal. I just thought if the lawyers handling the case saw how I was donating, and helping the orphanage, while spending every afternoon with her…”

“That they’d see the potential of you guys being an amazing family. But then I just fucked it all up.”

Magnus just smiles at him consolingly. “Not your fault at all—They’ve been pressuring Catarina to close up the place for a while now. Too many kids and not enough resources, and trust me if you knew Cat you’d know how she’d rather quit eating for a decade than leave one of those munchkins without a toy for the holiday.”

“I fucked it up,” is all Alec could say. Over and over again.

“Alexander, ’s just how the cookie crumbles. I’m sure a nice, two parent, unit will find Madzie and demand to adopt her soon enough—just not me. Now c’mon, there’s a Gelato place a couple blocks down, and you’re not such terrible company.”

Mechanically, Alec follows suit, but knows that he needs to do something, to make a difference.

~*~

Izzy practically squeals with delight when Alec explains to her his intentions, and it’s not very hard at all to get the rest of the crew, from both Heavenly Sweets and Pandemonium, to join in on the plan.

~*~

The morning of the ninth Alec is leaning against the register of Pandemonium when Magnus pads through the doorway.

“Ah—Alexander, not that it’s not wonderful to start my day off with your pretty face, especially now that I don’t want to scratch your eyes out any more but-“

“Follow me,” Alec doesn’t give him time to shed off his jacket, just snatches Magnus’s hand, mildly notices how his heart still decides to do a gymnastics routine whenever they touch, and leads him into the back kitchen.

“What are you-“ Magnus’s words die on his lips.

The whole crew is piled on top of each other, mixing, and frosting and pulling out of ovens. Simon’s adoringly looking over Jace’s shoulder while the former ices very intricate roses onto a red velvet cake, while Clary, Meliorn,  and Raphael are sketching out their intended creations for later on in the day. Maia,  Izzy, and Lydia are pounding together the base of a particularly large project, with Dot   sitting imperiously on the back counter, instructing them all, and basking in the fawning by Max and raj.

It’s a disarray, but a functional one.

“What, what’s going on?” He looks back up at Alec, as if seeing him for the first time—and yeah, Alec can’t help the swell of pride that comes over him when he sees that look on Magnus’s face.

“We postponed the pet shelter special for the eighteenth,” Alec just shrugs blithely, laughing out loud when Magnus punches him in the arm. “Look Bane, I don’t care what you say, it’s just fact that with us working together you guys will be able to make more goodies to sell out to the public, and get more money for Loss’s Orphanage, and it’ll just be better for all of us.”

Magnus still looks flabbergasted, scanning his gaze around all the faces of everyone that Alec’s wrestled together. “I still don’t get why you would do this for me?”

Alec feels his face heating up. “I wasn’t lying to Madzie when i told her that I think you’re great—I actually think you’re fantastic and brilliant and a bunch of other shit I’m sure a five year old wouldn’t have the patience to listen to.” Magnus laughs again, something light and wonderful. “Oh, by the way I got Cat to bring her and all the other kiddos over here to help us sell—You know using guilt against people and all that jazz.”

For a moment, Magnus just freezes, boring his eyes into Alec’s, and making him feel like his heart is on fire. But before he could try and lighten the mood, Magnus just pushes his head forward, and slants there lips together.

Alec thinks Magnus tastes like lilac skies and warm summer days and promises made to be kept and Alec thinks he loves him. Thinks he’s loved him for longer than he could remember not loving him, and it’s this edge of spectacular.

When they finally pull apart, they both pointedly ignore money being exchanged, for just kissing over again, and again, and again.

~*~

They make enough that day to safely say that the orphanage will be up and operational for a long time to come.

~*~

They get Lydia’s husband, John, to take on Magnus’s case for adoption, and he wins custody of Madzie six short months later.

On the one year anniversary of them being a family, Alec proposes. Madzie is  the flower girl and couldn’t be happier over her pretty daddies.

Alec and Magnus still banter and jibe like nothing else, but now their words are lilted with fondness, and their feelings are modified by hungry kisses and proud I love yous screamed across any room.

[emeraldsorcerer]

Chess Match 17

Prompt - Inktober Day 3: Warmth

Most days Lily was happy. An outside observer probably couldn’t detect as much, though.

The opportunities the Emerald Realm presented to her outdid any conventional university or academy she could have possibly gone to. It wasn’t stuffy, it wasn’t limited, and she now had all the time in the world to experiment. Thanks to Sakana’s magic, she had any tool she wanted, any setup to produce nearly any scientific result.

She figured out very quickly that magic was quite possibly one of the most boring powers in the world.

Lily is a tinkerer. An inventor. A tester. A hands-on person. There wasn’t much tinkering to be had with one’s own magic, to her, it got rid of the unknown factor entirely, thereby making it pointless to test or invent. Magic provided an answer to every question, as well as an answer to questions that hadn’t even been asked. There was no mystery anymore where magic was concerned, as far as Lily knew. Magic got rid of the ‘how’ altogether, and for Lily, this was unacceptable.

The only time Lily ever utilized magic was to conjure tools already theoretically  available to her in the human world. Working under the constraints of a lesser plane to replicate a result under conditions only magic would previously have been able to produce, this was her true passion.

In the ethereal Emerald Realm, hew new home, a place absolutely swirling with green-tinted magic, Lily and Sakana sat opposite each other, testing a board made purely by human hands.

“Knight to F2. Check.”

A black hologram knight on a chessboard lept its way far back into the white king’s ranks, putting the king himself at risk. At this point, the game was sealed.

“Oof...you never let up, do ya Lily? Looks like you’ve set me up good once again~! King to E1~”

The white king, in a similar manner, walked his way to the right one square, narrowly avoiding the wrath of the black knight. However, things looked grim. Another knight, a bishop, and a queen were on the attack as well, and had already successfully set up a perimeter.

“Knight to D3.”

And there went Sakana’s queen, along with his last hope of escaping.

“It’s kind of incredible that you built this all by yourself, y’know. I knew there was a reason I plucked you out~”

“It is only the result of unlimited time combined with unlimited resources. Although I do appreciate you taking the time out of your voyages to test this.”

“You sell yourself short~! Even with infinite time and resources, under the constraints you put yourself in, most people wouldn’t be able to pull this off by themselves for a good half a century or so~! Hell, I woulda just magic’d up a board like this, but you went and straight up built it~!”

“Simply using magic would be missing the point. I yearn for the process as well as the intended outcome, and magic irresponsibly takes the process out of the equation completely.”

“C’moonnnn, you know that’s not totally true~! Aaaah, I have no choice, King to D1.”

The king moved as instructed.

“Is it not? It was entirely possible for me to ask you access to your magical abilities, and if granted, create this hologram chessboard without having to concern myself with screws, circuitry, or any form of handmade work.”

“Not necessarily. Magic has rules too, y’know~”

“Such as?”

“Well, I do suppose it kinda depends on the magic...but as a general rule for my kind, it requires suspension of disbelief on the observer's part, you might say~.”

“In other words, it requires an observer to give up explaining it with logic and reason entirely in order to exist.”

“Yup, pretty much! There was an entire reading I had to do waaaay back when about a guy that challenged a witch’s existence altogether~! A mere human, daring to look a witch in the eyes and tell her that magic didn’t exist. And guess what~?”

“He won.”

“Sure did~! After four games, he finally managed to deconstruct and explain almost every mystery with logic and reason backing it. The witch’s magic relied on people believing it was magic to begin with, that’s how it worked.”

“So it was never magic to begin with. Everything could be explained by human means, and her means were simply obtuse and sneaky enough to be mistaken for magic. Is that what you are saying?”

“Yup, pretty much~!”

“Then what are you?”

“Uh...different, that’s for sure. Her basis was on a superstition, a built up being that people began to believe in, y’know? Me? I’m the embodiment of a concept, that’s a lot harder to disprove~.”

“So, if I were to claim you and your magic did not exist...”

“I’d simply say that epiphanies exist, and as such, the embodiment of that concept exists before you too~!”

“That seems to be a cop out. There is either more to it than that, or, of course, I am being tricked and what you say is not necessarily truth.”

“Hey, that’s basically how the others work too. The Witch of Miracles, and Witch of Certainty, they embody those concepts too, y’know~? Of course, those concepts are waaaaaaaaay stronger and more sought after than...y’know, an epiphany. My concept is basically a bolt of lightning - striking at random with little warning. But it doesn’t mean epiphanies don’t exist~.”

“So, in order for your power to be negated, one would theoretically have to prove epiphanies do not exist.”

“Correct~!”

“And that is impossible, because they do exist.”

“Pretty much~”

“So the only thing stopping you, or other witches of your particular brand, is boredom.”

“Kinda yeah~ or, y’know, other more powerful witches.”

“Fair. But that still means a human would have no hope of disproving your existence, or the existence of your magic, without belittling the concept you stand on. Meaning you can almost use your magic as freely as any Harry Potter wizard might. It is not limited. And if you recall, at the beginning of this discussion, my point was that magic without logic, magic that does not require a ‘how’ or a process or any sort, does not appeal to me. You rebuked that, claiming my assertion was not entirely true, and yet you have admitted yourself right here that, due to your power as a conceptual being, you cannot be denied, therefore neither can your magic, therefore you theoretically have free reign over your own magical power without having to explain how or provide a process. You simply will it to be, and it is.”

“...hoof, that’s a lot to take in.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Nah, you’re not wrong for coming to that conclusion, but it’s a bit more aah...complicated than that? The only reason you think that is ‘cause you’ve only seen my power in action inside this realm, which is my sandbox. I’m basically god here, y’know? But outside of here, that’s not entirely the case. There’s kind of a net amount of belief I can draw on to make magic happen depending on the place, and if I try to draw too much...well, it hasn’t happened, but my theory is that the fabric of whatever reality I’m in probably won’t like it too much. It’s like overdrawing from a bank, sure, it might have immediate effects, but over time it’s gonna wreck the whole system~!”

“...I am not certain that is how overdrawing from a bank works.”

“Aaah, y’know what I mean~! More strain on the system means more chance bad stuff’ll happen, so I’m limited in that regard~”

“What if someone were to explain epiphanies logically?”

“...huh. I suppose that’d be a way to counter my magic, then.”

“So, if I were to, say, claim that epiphanies were not magic, but rather, a combination of brain chemicals and neurosis working in tandem with memories and logic, I would essentially be immune to your magic.”

“Most people don’t even think that far ahead. They just see ‘Ooh, magic’ and assume it’s real because it’s in front of them. So, honestly, I don’t know what would happen. Probably just wouldn’t be able to affect you with my magic is all~.”

“Queen to E1. Checkmate.”

“Eh...?’

It was true. Sakana had been bested yet again.

“Aaaaah, y’got me~!”

“As per usual.”

“How cold, Lily~ ihihi~.”

The usually stoic Lily let out a small chuckle as well. A warm game between these two friends was always like this.

[clevercatchphrase]

You Monster Chpt. 28

Click Here to Read on AO3! Chapters: [First][Previous][Next] Notes: It’s finally here. I’ve done it. This chapter is 16 thousand words long. I can’t even.

Somewhere else entirely, several hours ago…

Alphys sat at her computer screen with her chin on her claws as she watched the curious little creature on the monitor before her. She had put down her pen and paper ages ago, no longer frantic to scribble down notes and observations every time they blinked or sneezed. After a couple hours of simply following the human through her screen she no longer felt like she was making brilliant scientific breakthroughs for all of monsterkind, but rather… keeping an eye on a small companion, checking up on an old friend.

Funny how just watching someone struggle through all sorts of obstacles could make root for them, or feel like a guardian angel.

Alphys blinks a couple of times. Huh, where was this protective feeling coming from all of the sudden? She shakes herself out of it and tries to refocus. They were a human and she was a scientist who needed to study them to help her people. She didn’t need to guard them. She wasn’t supposed to feel attached to them. She had only promised to make sure they didn’t get hurt in Waterfall was all, nothing more than that.

Her eyes drift up to the screen where the human jumps in puddles alongside her brother like every other monster child had done at their age.

And yet… she couldn’t help but think.

An alarm on her wristwatch chimes a reminder- it’s twelve o’clock. Lunchtime.

The royal scientist sighs and reluctantly leaves her computer. She knows she promised Sans to keep tabs on the human, but now they were busy conducting music with Shyren by the old statue in front of a gathering crowd. Surely they’d be fine a few minutes alone without her eyes on them when there were so many others there to do it for her.

Roughly an hour later, Alphys hefts the half-empty bag of dog chow over her shoulder as the elevator ascends. She realizes she’d have to go to the local pet store either today or tomorrow to get more. Oh, why did that amalgamutt- pardon, -amalgamate- have to eat so much? Well, if she could call it eating. The conglomerate of canines more or less inhaled its food through the sole orifice on its head, bowl and all. She’s glad the employees at the pet store don’t question how much kibble she buys on a weekly basis, but she’d rather not have to go to the store every other day and risk suspicion when she never once showed evidence that she owned a dog.

The elevator dings! and the royal scientist steps out onto the main floor of her laboratory, in a hurry to get back to her computer screen. She hadn’t been gone long, but she didn’t want Sans to think her indolent for having left them unattended longer than she had planned.

Her lab is dim, the lights usually turn off on their own when she’s not there to save on electricity, but when something goes bump in the gloom her scales instantly stand on end.

She’s not alone.

“H-hello?” She tentatively calls out in the murky hallway, but no one responds. Gingerly, the scientist tiptoes to her computer and waves a hand in front of a motion sensor to get the lights to come back on. None of her papers look disturbed and all her dirty dishes are in the exact place she’d left them. Nothing had changed.

‘Scaredy scales,’ Alphys chastises herself. ‘Jumping at shadows and getting worked up over nothing. Nobody’s here. The lights would have come on if there were, remember?’

And then, creeping into her field of vision, just out of the corner of her eye, something long and slithering coils around her sides, and-

“ALPHYS! DARLING!”

Alphys screams so loud, she’s pretty sure the King could have heard her. She jumps a mile in the air, choking the bag of dog food so tight that kibble goes flying out its open end.

“M-M-Mettaton?! W-w-what are you doing in here?!” the yellow lizard stutters as the rectangular robot embraces her in his long, slinky arms.

“Oh, just the usual, darling! I just wanted to drop by and get a quick status update on how my new body is doing! I know my fans are just dying for a little more pizazz in my show! (Not to mention I already promised my producers a new look for the new season to pull in the ratings!) So has any progress been made since my last visit?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes! Lots,” Alphys lies, wriggling free of Mettaton’s strangle hold to go back to her computer screen. “But, uh, I-I-I’ve had to put it on hold for the moment. Something more urgent h-has come up, regrettably.” Her monitor shows the same live feed in Waterfall of the statue in the rain tunnel, but now the scene is completely bare, no human or Undyne in sight.

Frowning, she begins to rotate through her other cameras. They couldn’t have gone far.

“Wonderful news! So do you think you can give me an ETA on that, or…?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure Mettaton…” Alphys mumbles as she changes through the channels. She finds her brother back in the Glowing Water Room struggling to carry something, and then Undyne on the bridges, but the human isn’t with her.

Alphys’ soul feels like it’s doing frantic back flips. Undyne without the human… That was disconcerting to say the least. She’d promised Sans she’d keep an eye on her! But Undyne didn’t seem to be carrying anything soul shaped, so maybe everything was alright? Oh, who was she kidding. She shouldn’t have let her eyes off them for a second! Fine guardian angel- er, some vigilant scientist she turned out to be!

Just as she starts going through all the absolute worst case scenarios in her head, Alphys flips to her cameras in the land fill sector and she finally gets lucky.

Ah! There they are! Walking through the junk yard (and following a ghost? Whatever it is, it’s making the live feed fuzzy, so it’s hard to tell). How did they get down there? Well, no time to worry about that now. They look a bit dazed for some reason, but at least they’re alive and unhurt.

Just then the human turns a bit, angling their body a bit more towards the camera, and now she can see that they’ve got one arm drawn up funny, which they hold close with their other hand. They’re doing their best not to bump into anything, but still their face goes tense when they accidentally jar their side against some obstructing pile of trash.

Uh-oh. Maybe they weren’t unhurt after all.

“My my, darling! What new show of yours is this?” Mettaton asks rolling up to her side. “Hm, that little human doesn’t look animated. Is this a movie, or an episode of some obscure reality TV series the humans watch? It has no audio. Is silent film finally making a comeback?”

“No, it’s live,” Alphys admits, too concentrated on the monitor to watch her tongue.

“LLLIIIVVVEEE?” Mettaton gasps overdramatically, drawing out the word with exaggerated phonation. “Good gracious, Alphys! But then that would mean there is a human in the Underground right this very moment! Stars above, somebody pinch me! I must be dreaming! This is exactly the kind of show stopping news my network has been looking for! I must call my producer immediately-!”

“WHAT?NO!DON’T!YOUCAN’T!” Alphys says without pause between the words. “I-I mean, they’re not coming to Hotland! Wait, no, I mean, uhh wh-what human? Pssh, that’s n-not a human, Mettaton! Don’t be silly!”

“Alphys. Darling.” Mettaton says frankly. “Do you think my robotic eyes were installed yesterday?”

“Um, yes? It says so right here in your hardware updates?”

“Irrelevant!” Mettaton wheels close to the scientist to drape one arm around her and pull her in close. “Alphys, for the first time in decades there is a human in the Underground and I simply must meet them and have them on my show! Think of the masses we could be informing! Think of the history we could be making! The people we could be inspiring! The demographics we could be exploiting! Oh where is the phone number for my entourage? I must get them escorted to my hotel this minute!”

“No, Mettaton! You can’t!” Alphys argues, pushing herself free. “It’s vital that the human doesn’t come to Hotland! For their safety and ours!”

Mettaton beeps displeasingly and crosses his arms. “My, my, Alphys. You seem rather protective of this human and keeping them a secret. Are they a friend of yours?”

“What?” Alphys replies, taken aback. She wasn’t trying to cover for them! Was she? “N-no, of course not!” She answers her own question. “I-in fact, I wanted to study them, but-”

“Then why are we even arguing, darling? I’ll call my valet and have them dropped off here, and then when you’re done with them, I can bring them on my show for all of monsterkind to meet!”

“Mettaton! For once in your life will you just listen to me and trust when I say it would be a very bad idea to show the human to the entire Underground?”

“And why ever not, darling?”

“Because-! Because the human doesn’t know that they’re human, Mettaton!”

“A human… who does not know they are human.” Mettaton repeats skeptically. “Alphys, as someone who is rather intimate with the realm entertainment, I must inform you that your take on comedy leaves a lot to be desired.”

“My take on-? I’m not joking, Mettaton.” Groaning, Alphys drags her claws down her cheeks, snagging some flaking scales in the process. Oh, great. Now she’s stress shedding. If Mettaton kept this up she’d start developing bald spots. “They think they’re a boss monster like Asgore, and Sans and I agree that telling them has the slightest chance of being a VERY catastrophic idea if they found out!”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad! Our audience could use a little more excitement of the calamitous variety in their life, don’t you think?”

Alphys stares at him blankly. This robot sometimes, she swears. When it’s clear to her that there’s no changing Mettaton’s mind, she decides to switch angles. “Then how about this for thought; You show the human to the Underground and Asgore catches wind of it, then he demands you hand the human over? What will your show do then?”

“I-!” Mettaton starts, raising a finger in defiance before tapping his chassis thoughtfully the way one would tap their chin. Alphys could hear his hard drive whirring as he simulated the scenario in is processer.

“Oh. I do see how that could lead to a premature cancelation. I guess I’ll just have to brainstorm a work around...”

The screens on Mettaton’s front flash red and yellow in a checkerboard pattern before lighting up in the shape of an exclamation mark. A sound clip of a desk bell dings! from his speaker ports.

“I’ve got it! We’ll make it a candid camera reality sitcom!”

“What… are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about make a show in the format of one of those double-blind science-y things you do! We’ll play along with this little boss monster and introduce them to the life as a celebrity! But only those of us who are in the know will really see what’s going on! It will be the greatest inside joke of all history! Now that’s comedy!”

“I… d-don’t think that’s very wise, Mettaton-“

“But Alphys! Imagine the possibilities! While I interview them about their life as a boss monster, you could be gaining valuable research! You could disguise your questionnaires as quizzes, and your experiments as challenges on my game show! The audience at home won’t dare say a word. That would be cheating! And the human would be none the wiser!”

Alphys dares to exhale. It did sound plausible, and as long as she could keep Mettaton quiet with the secret, things would work out fine. Everything would be okay. She wouldn’t be messing up again.

“And who knows? Maybe once we’ve exhausted our ideas, we could have a special identity reveal at the end of the season!”

“Mettaton…” Alphys says lowly, her tone warning.

“Temper, darling! Watch your temper!” Mettaton teases, and begins rolling backwards towards the exit. “Anyway, I must be off now! I just had the most brilliant idea for the pilot and need to get the directors on board post haste! Do keep me posted on the progress of my new form, and call me when our little boss monster decides to visit Hotland, will you? Toodles!”

With that, the rectangular robot disappears through the automatic doors. Alphys feels like her knees have turned to jelly and she barely reaches her computer chair before she collapses into it.

Oh boy. It seemed like the human was destined to come to Hotland now whether they wanted to or not. Mettaton would make sure of that. Why did ensuring the safety of one living being have to be so hard?

Grabbing the edge of her desk, Alphys swivels back around to face her monitor. Her claws brush one of her earlier notebooks on her human observations in the process. Idly, she flips through it, rereading all her potential experiments and questions she wanted to ask them on the off chance they ever got to meet, which now she realized, was about to become reality. She felt a bit differently on some of the experiments now. Reading them again, they did sound the tiniest bit unethical, even if they were performed on a human.

Her eyes flick up to the screen. The human and Undyne and Kid have all rejoined now, and it looks like they’re racing snails at the local snail farm, like any other three friends would.

It’s a struggle, but Alphys forces herself to look away. She’s already too attached to them as it is, and that would only make it harder for her to study them when they finally met in person and harder to let go before she would inevitably send them to Asgore.

“Do your job as the Royal Scientist first, Alphys,” she sighs, opening up a fresh note book and turning to a clean page to resume taking notes like she should have been doing from the start. “Then we’ll talk about part time jobs as a guardian angel.”

You sleep, and the vision unfolds and you find yourself back on the highway of bridges over the dump. Premonition tickles the back of your mind. The scenery around you feels too clear, too real. That’s when you realize this is isn’t a dream.

It’s a memory.

The memory plays out against your will and your heart thumps in trepidation as your body begins to walk on autopilot. You need to get off these bridges. Something bad is about to happen. You know something bad is about to happen, but you can’t stop yourself from moving forward. The sense of already having lived this disorients you as the future overlays the present, not giving you enough space for warning as it plays out. The end of the bridge is coming up. You’re going to walk right off of it. You need to stop, but you can’t control your feet. They move on their own volition.

You try to yell, to shout, or order your body to obey with a voice that’s not there, but nothing works. The edge is inches away and you’re steadily getting closer. You strain, you flail, you fight with the tangibility you don’t have, knowing it’s futile but trying anyway because you must. But nothing happens, and the bottomless drop off yawns wider, ready to receive you. You brace for the worst.

But… then you come to a stop. You’re puzzled, relieved, heart filling with dread. You managed to not walk right off the edge, but that can only mean something even worse is going to happen. You can feel it. Something is warning you not to turn around.

You have to. You can’t help it. This is a memory and it’s already happened.

You turn, only just enough time to recognize the silhouette of the warrior and her wicked smile before her spears rain down and sever the wooden boards between you. Everything moves in slow motion as the world tilts and the ground rushes to the sky, leaving you behind. A stray spear hits your left shoulder which quickly brings you back to normal speed, and for a second you don’t know which feeling is stronger- the pain or the sensation of falling.

And you’re falling, falling, falling into something deeper than dreams.

You have to wake up! Wake up before you hit the ground! Wake up, your arm is being torn to shreds!

You jerk awake, and the feeling of falling quickly leaves you, but the pain in your shoulder screams louder than ever. You’ve fallen over in your sleep, right onto your bad arm. You thrash, blinded by pain as you roll over as fast as you can to get off your shoulder and end up spilling onto the floor.

The worst of the stinging goes away when your own weight is no longer pressing down on your arm. Hissing, you sit up and pull your collar to the side and try to look at it, only to find that even that’s now a challenge. The soreness of it all has started to spread up your neck and around your ribs. It hurts to move your whole left side but you manage to get a peek. The skin is angry and red and swollen. It’s hot to the touch, but your finger tips are cold and pale.

It hurts like hell, but you take small comfort in the fact that there is no puncture wound. At least that part of the memory was wrong.

Wait-

You freeze when you realize your own thoughts, and a bit of frenzied laughter escapes your lips, startling yourself when you put two and two together.

Ha ha, that’s right. That wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. Your eyes water, but you can’t tell if it’s from elation or shock. Ha ha, you can’t believe it. You remembered something. Ha, ha! This meant that you hadn’t forgotten again! This meant that-

Undyne cut the bridge.

The brief flame of joy in your heart is extinguished at once and your blood goes cold.

Why would she…? No. No, that had to be a mistake. You had to be misremembering, like with the spear-

You can’t help but recall your “sparring” session with Undyne yesterday, and how she wouldn’t stop attacking no matter how much you pleaded. Your stomach churns and you try to swallow a lump in your throat but it’s gone dry.

Oh God, she had wanted to- she was trying to-!

Geez, when did it get so stuffy in this room? Was it always this hot, or is it just you? It’s borderline suffocating. You… you need to get out of here, get some air, clear your head. Just… just for a minute. Just to think.

You cast one last glance over your shoulder at Kid still asleep on the couch. You won’t be long, you delude yourself.

As quietly as you can, you find your way to Gerson’s store front and slip outside to take a few deep breaths on the street. The air here is no cooler than the house. God, it feels so hard to breathe.

But why? The unanswerable question keeps jumping to the forefront of your mind as you try to calm yourself down. What did you do that would make Undyne want to… Was it something you said? Something you did? You thought you two were getting along at first. Where did it go so wrong?

You loiter outside the store awhile, massaging your sore arm and coming up with no good explanation. Still not ready to head back inside, you take stock of your surroundings since you didn’t have a good chance yesterday. The caves here are large and smooth and the floor is well-trodden. This must be a major road. Glowing runes catch your eye to the East. There are more plaques on the wall just further down the street. They look just like the ones you saw yesterday over the lake.

Maybe going for a short walk will help calm your nerves and get you tired again, you decide. You won’t go far, just to the plaques and back. Just to stretch your legs and take your mind of things.

“The Power to take their souls,” the first plaque reads when you got close enough to make out the words. “This is the power the humans feared.”

You walk as slowly as possible to give yourself a chance to read each word and to chew up time, following the line of inscriptions on the wall.

“This power has no counter. Indeed a human cannot take a monster’s soul. When a monster dies, its soul disappears. An incredible power would be needed to take the soul of a living monster.

“There is only one exception. The soul of a special species of monster called a “Boss Monster”. A Boss Monster’s soul is strong enough to persist after death, if only for a few moments. A human could absorb this soul, in theory, but this has never happened, and now it never will.

“The humans, afraid of our power, declared war on us. They attacked suddenly and without mercy.

“In the end, it could hardly be called a war. United, the humans were too powerful, and us monsters, too weak. Not a single soul was taken, and countless monsters were turned to dust.”

The road begins to grow unruly underfoot as weeds and grass crop up and snake into your path. You glance up and take in the entrance to a forest with trees twice as tall and twice as thick as the marble pillars that you have back in the ruins. The lowest branches of even the shortest tree are still far out of reach for even the tallest monster. They glow a weak bioluminescent blue on their undersides, and they’re so high you can’t see their tops. You wonder if they’re holding up the ceiling. After a moment of staring you turn back to the plaques.

“Hurt, beaten, and fearful for our lives, we surrendered to the humans. Seven of their greatest magicians sealed us underground with a magic spell. Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a powerful soul can leave.

“There is only one way to reverse this spell; if a huge power, equivalent to seven human souls, attacks the barrier, it will be destroyed.

“But this cursed place has no entrances or exits. There is no way a human could come here. We will remain trapped down here forever.

“However… there is a prophecy; The Angel, The One Who Has Seen The Surface, they will return and the Underground will go empty.”

The story ends here as far as you can tell, but your thoughts are still buzzing and impossible to order, and you can’t help but fidget and pace as you try to set them straight. The perpetual darkness of Waterfall gives you no way to tell the time like you could in the Ruins or in Snowdin, but the streets are noticeably empty and quiet, so you guess it’s a pretty safe bet it’s still the middle of the “night”.

What were supposed to do now? You can’t keep staying here; not out in the open or back there with Kid. Not if Undyne would keep trying to…

Perhaps you can just find the rest of the way on your own? That had been your plan from the start, after all. But it would be rude to just leave Kid behind and run off without thanking Gerson for his hospitality. Maybe you can just get Kid to just take you the rest of the way. The two of you made it so far together. But he looks up to Undyne so much… You doubt you’ll be able to convince him that she wants your dust.

Hm, maybe you could just keep standing outside in the middle of the street doing nothing. You’ve already got a great head start. You groan and shake your head. No, that wouldn’t work. Someone would find you here eventually. You had to make a choice here and now, despite all your bad options.

You guess you could go back to Snowdin. You know without a doubt Papyrus would welcome you back with open arms and you could stay with him and Sans for as long as you wanted. But you couldn’t stay with them forever, waiting each day by the door for someone who wasn’t going to answer. Heck, you don’t even know if you can find the way back to Snowdin at this point. You have to get to the capital one way or another. It’s your best choice. It’s your only choice.

You sigh and about-face, not looking forward to the walk back, but you only take two steps when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.

A familiar gelatinous form inches past like a carefree accordion. You don’t believe your eyes. Is… is that who you think it is?

“Moldsmal?” you ask out loud. The gummy-like monster does not falter or stop and keeps squelching on its way. In a spilt second decision, you choose to pad after it, keenly aware that you are straying from the main road and into the forest.

“Moldsmal, wait! How did you get out of the ruins?”

The smaller monster pays you no heed as it slips over rocks and roots and fallen logs, around crystal outgrowths and mushroom clusters, deeper into the forest filled with the phosphorescent trees.

“Moldsmal, please! Is there a way to get back in past the doors?” You put on a burst of energy and sprint to close the distance between you and the other monster.

“Why are you running away? It’s me! I just need your help-” At last you catch up and reach out to it. It shutters and stiffens at the touch of your fingers- then rears back until it is twice your height and utters a deep, guttural sound. Spores of magic burst out like a halo around its body and it fixes you with a piercing stare from the one eye in the center of its jelly-like face.

And of all the things to think, your brain comes up with a brilliant deduction as you’re stumbling back in shock; This isn’t Moldsmal.

You trip over a rock and land hard on your bad arm. White spots flash across your eyes as you let out one short bark of pain.

The monster towers over you, its spores of magic closing in.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper between terrified huffs. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I-I thought you were someone else.”

The monster-who-is-not-Moldsmal leans in, its thistle-like magic creeping dangerously close as it studies you, apparently at a loss to what to do now that you’ve frozen in horror. It gurgles deep in its throat.

“P-please,” you beg, mouth dry, though you’re sweating. “I mean you no harm.” You still haven’t moved from your horizontal position on the ground, afraid the slightest movement might upset your adversary and wanting to appear as least-threatening as possible. For the second time since passing through the doors, all the warnings your mother had given you rush through your mind. All the dangers, all the threats, and here was one cornering you now, wearing the face of someone you thought you knew.

The monster’s eye is dangerously close to yours. It’s so close you could push it away if you really tried, if you fought back, defended yourself. Maybe stun it long enough to get away. You could. You could, but you can’t move. Terror locks you in place. This is how you’re going to die, scared stiff because of your stupid mistake.

Moldbygg inspects you for a long time, gurgling deep in its throat as it decides whether or not you are friend or foe. After a minute of motionlessness, it seems to understand you are no threat. The spores of magic dissipate, and Moldbygg slowly retracts, collapsing back into its jelly-like form.

You swear you hear it let out an annoyed snort as it inch-worms away. It’s only after you can’t hear its squelching sounds anymore, do you sit up and wipe the tears of panic from your eyes. It was foolish to come out this far at all. How could you possibly make it to the King all on your own when you can’t even walk down the street without screwing up? That’s it, you’re going to head back and try your hardest to sway Kid to show you the rest of the way through Waterfall.

You push yourself up on trembling knees, turn around, and start trudging North, back the way you came… or was it West? Wait, are you even facing North? You can’t tell in this extreme darkness.

You walk blindly, bumping into tree trunks and tripping over roots every-other step. You nearly jump out of your skin when your foot snaps a twig, but the noise gives you an idea.

Shuffling your feet, you kick up the dead pine needles until your foot catches on something stiff and you reach down for it, hopeful.

Ah, yes! You’ve found a branch, just like you were hoping. Holding the stick in your right hand, you attempt to snap your fingers with your left, but the sharp movement feels like bee-stings up your arm. You do a bit of juggling and pass the stick off to the other hand, squeezing it tight hurts your left shoulder, and you snap your right fingers as quick as you can with heated urgency.

Sparks fly and hit the leafless twigs, but the bark refuses to ignite. You snap frantically, feeling your grip tremble as your shoulder muscles cry out in torture.

Finally, a twig catches and you release your hold like you’re dropping a venomous snake, letting the branch fall into your hand on your good arm.

Carefully, you bring the smoldering end up to your face and breathe a bit of life onto it. The kindling brightens and dims with each puff until at last a tiny flame appears. It isn’t much, and it certainly doesn’t light up the whole forest, but the little light does help to chase away the immediate darkness and allows you to watch where you’re walking.

You hold the stick high, that way the flames have to work against gravity, eating their way down the branch and giving you more time to take advantage of the light before it burns at your fingertips. Not that you could get burned with your gloves on, anyway, but the slower the branch burns, the easier the fire will be to manage and the longer you could go without finding a new one.

You try to retrace your steps by searching for the Moldbygg’s slime trail, but all the grass here is naturally glossy, making it impossible for you to be able to tell what is a monster’s residue and what isn’t.

You debate calling for help, but decide against it, not wanting to be caught somewhere you shouldn’t be. Again.

Refusing to admit you’re lost, you march on, hoping with all your heart that you’ll somehow find the way back out and not end up walking in circles, but after passing a rather familiar crystal growth for what you think is the twentieth time, you have to admit you’re hopelessly turned around. Your stick has burned down to embers in your palm and you’re feet are sore from walking. Leaning back against the tree, you slump down and sigh.

Well… at least you managed to make yourself tired again. You might as well wait here until someone finds you and suffer the consequences that come.

Hugging your knees, you place your forehead on your arm and take a moment to reflect on your situation. Your throat starts getting tight and your eyes start to well as you think about the mess you’re in. You can feel another round of tears coming on and you don’t try very hard to hold them back.

You’re right in the middle of feeling sorry for yourself when you hear a rustling in the grass. Your sniffing is stopped at once; the fear of danger is enough to silence your crying as you hold your breath and wait for whatever aid or enemy to emerge from the shadows. The grass rustles again, and from it pops out the most curious monster you’ve seen yet.

At first you think it’s the small white dog again. The creature is the same height and color, but upon closer inspection its face is too flat and more cat-like than canine. It’s got dark grey hair on its head in addition to the white fur, and… four ears? You can’t tell if those are floppy ears on the side of its head or just growths of skin. Two more pointed ears peak out from the top of her head. She’s wearing a blue shirt.

“hOi!” she yips. “I’m Temmie!”

The tiny monster extends one foot and it stretches toward you, kinking at sharp right angles, giving the leg more joints than any limb should legally be allowed to have. Magical, extending legs? Maybe this thing is a dog after all.

It dawns on you that she’s expecting a handshake, and tentatively you reach your own arm out to grasp it. She seems friendly enough and you don’t get any threatening vibes from her. You open your mouth to greet her in turn, but your nose starts to tickle half way through the first word.

“Heh-aa-AA-ACHOO!” you sneeze, barely covering your mouth on time. “Hello. I-I’m Chara. Sorry for sneezing.”

Snuffling, you wipe your nose on your sleeve, then wipe your eyes, and then your eyes some more. (Why are they suddenly so itchy?)

“Is k.” Temmie says, brushing off your faux paus. “Temmie herd nother Tem crying and came as fast as she could! Tem always help other Tem in need!”

“Other tem- I’m not a, uh, Temmie,” you guess. It’s not unusual for groups of similar monsters to go by an all-encompassing name, like Froggit or Vegetoid do, and this one did speak in the third person… you think.

Temmie tips her head, bemused.

“Not a Tem? But you ware blue shirt!” she says poking you in the stomach.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“You hav white furr!” She says pointing at your gloves.

“Well, technically, but-”

“You have four ears!” she says lifting up one of the sides of your hat.

“Th-that’s true in a way, but-”

“You are a Tem!” Temmie nods triumphantly. Case closed.

You open your mouth to say something, but get seized by another sneeze.

Ugh. Now your nose is all blocked up and your ears feel like they’re being stuffed with cotton. Head spinning, you decide not to argue anymore.

“Okay, okay, I am a Tem,” you forfeit when an idea suddenly strikes you. “And if Temmies always help other Temmies in need, then can you show me the way back to the main road?”

“Yeah, Yah!! Follow Temmie!” the small dog… cat… thing skips off and you obediently follow, trekking deeper into the pitch black forest.

Keeping Temmie in your sight is hard when it’s so dark you can barely see your own hand an arm’s length from your face, and you don’t think you’d be able to keep track of her if her fur wasn’t so startlingly white. Not to mention that your eyes are watering, and you find yourself constantly stumbling over hidden rocks and roots in your path. Temmie expertly jumps over each invisible obstacle as she prances through the trees. Her pace is not slow, but you still can’t help but wonder why it’s taking so long to get back to the main road. Surely you hadn’t deviated that far from it?

“Hear!” Temmie announces when the trees suddenly break away to a bare rock face. You stop short. This is definitely not the main road. Have you been heading the wrong way the whole time?

“Where are we?” You ask, stupefied. “This isn’t the main street.”

“This is TEM VILLAGE, duh!” Temmie snorts. “It’s a home for all tems!” And with a sharp turn to the right, she disappears from sight. You gasp in astonishment when Temmie vanishes into thin air and hurry over to where she winked away only to find a crack in the wall well hidden from your previous point of view.

Not wanting to be alone in the open, you squeeze through the fissure after her. The walls get uncomfortably tight pressing against your bad shoulder as the corridor gets narrower and narrower. Just when you begin to panic that you’re permanently stuck, the crack widens and you pop out into a large hollow cave.

You trip and stagger, but manage not to fall, and you can’t believe what you see when you look up.

The cavern is fairly large. Dozens of identical Temmies stroll about, chatting with friends or lounging on the floor. The air is filled with joyous greetings of “hOis!” whenever two Temmies happen to collide, and cheerful “bOis!” when they part ways again. A giant stone statue of a Temmie stands proudly in the center of town, and smaller tunnels branch off in the walls leading off to hidden homes and hideaways. The air is happy and peaceful and it brings a tear to your eye.

Wait. No, your eyes and nose are running like the rivers in the glowing water room but you don’t think it’s because you’re being overwhelmed with emotion. Now that you think about it, this is exactly what happens when it’s pollen season in the ruins, or when you go too long not sweeping the dander build up out of your room; you’re having an allergic reaction.

Oh no.

You need to get out of here. Oh geez, you can already feel a migraine coming on. You spin on your heels, ready to crawl back through the crack when you suddenly remember- you still not know the way back to Gerson’s shop.

For a minute you just stand there, head hanging in defeat as you reflect on all your life’s choices that have led you to this moment, sneezing and suffering. Of all the decisions you make, how is it that you keep picking the wrong ones?

You’re stuck at an impasse; Dare you chance finding the way back on your own, completely blind and lost and risk running into more monsters like Moldbygg (or worse, Undyne), or will you suck up your allergies and endure the Temmies who are helpful and nice since they think you are one of their own? Sure, your Temmie had led you astray, but maybe it was a mistake?

Groaning, you turn back around. The Temmie that brought you here has vanished into the sea of other Temmies, but you don’t think she would have been much help anyway. Picking a Temmie at random, you start asking around.

“Um, excuse me.”

“hOi! I’m Temmie!” Greets the Temmie nearest you.

“Uh, hello. Do you know the way to Gerson or Hotland by any chance?”

“Hmmmm… Nop! Try asking my friend!”

“hOi!” Says the Temmie next to Temmie. “I’m Temmie! And this is my friend Temmie!”

“Hi there,” you nod patiently although your sinuses are pounding. “Do you know who Gerson is, and how to get to him?”

“Nu…” Temmie frowns, her ears sagging. Then she perks up again. “But my friend mite! Ask her!”

“hOi!” Says the first Temmie, apparently having already forgotten the two of you have met. “I’m Temmie!”

“And I’m leaving!” you say sarcastically before breaking away from the madness.

None of the other Temmies are any more help as you work your way through the entire town, and only stop when you reach the back of the cavern. You’ve got a throbbing headache and you’re not sure if it’s solely because of your allergies.

Rubbing your temples, you lean against a sign and try to clear your head. When the pounding stops you can take in the lettering more clearly. Once you get past the grammatical errors, you find that you can actually read the words written on it;

“hOi! U shud check out… TEM SHOP!”

A shop? Hope flutters in your chest. Shops might sell maps, or at the very least be run by a capable store owner who should know some basic directions to the other stores in the Underground. It was your best bet, and really, at this point what else did you have to lose? Taking a chance, you head down the corridor.

Like most of the other establishments you’ve encountered in the Waterfall, the store has no door- just a short tunnel to the counter. The room is dimly lit and curiously decorated with odd mismatched trinkets and doodads and worthless bits of trash on the shelves around you that look less like wares for sale and more like the hoard of a packrat. The register sits in the middle of the room (or, uh, cardboard box in this case?) but no one seems to be manning it. Curious, you approach the box, only to step on something round and rubbery, and you practically jump out of your skin when it lets out a shill shriek.

Looking down, you find a squeaky dog toy taped to the floor. Several, in fact, all placed in front of the cardboard counter top, as if they were intentionally put there to be stepped on like a replacement for a desk bell.

The box in front of you rustles, and a head pops up, flinging foam peanuts into the air. It’s, unsurprisingly, another Temmie.

“Hoi! Welcom to… da TEM SHOP!” she greets you. “How kan i help u?”

“Hi, do you by any chance have a map of the Underground, or at least of Waterfall?” You ask quickly, feeling a familiar tickle in your nose that indicated you were about to sneeze.

“Yeah, yeah!!! Tem has… lots a maps! Tems R excellent cartographers!”

“Thank you so much. I’ve been walking in circles for ages. You don’t know how much I need this,” you sigh in relief, and reach into your pocket for your spare change. “Can I have one?”

“Yeah, yeha!¡!” The Temmie dives back down in the box, leaving only her little bobbed tail sticking out. You watch it circle around in the packing peanuts like a periscope for a while until the Temmie pops up again with a piece of folded paper in her mouth. “One map is... one thousand gold!!!”

Your jaw drops. A thousand gold?!

“B-but I’ve only got a hundred forty-five!” you stammer.

“Sry!” Temmie says firmly, keeping her paw on the folded piece of paper. “Tem has to save for colleg. Tuition… not cheap!” She turns up her nose.

Despair threatens to overwhelm you. You can’t tell if you’re crying or if your eyes are just watering so bad from being in close contact with all these Temmies.

“W-wait, are you willing to barter?” You ask desperately.

Temmie opens one eye a tiny sliver. You dig into your pockets, searching for anything of value you could trade, but all you come up with is rocks. You angrily pull one out and place it on the counter to get it out of your way while you look for something better.

Temmie’s eyes go wide as saucers when you present the geode.

“WOAH!” She gasps. “U hav… ROCKS? Tem’s always wanted rocks, but tem has to save for col leg. Hnng! But Tem really gotta have dat rock! Temmie will pay u… a hundred g!”

You pause.

“Really? But Kid told me these things were-” you cut yourself off, a realization dawning on you as something about Temmie behavior suddenly makes a lot more sense. This could be your only way to buy the map, but a hundred gold for each rock wasn’t going to cut it. You only had eight.

“Hmm, I dunno…” you play along as you tap your chin, considering the offer. “This rock wasn’t easy to come by. It has a lot of sentimental value too.”

“P… plz!!!” Temmie sweats. “One-fifty g! Final offers!!”

“Well… I guess I can bear to part with this rock for a hundred-fifty. Deal.”

You pass the rock to Temmie and she dips into the glass jar, which you guess is her till, to fishes out a handful of gold coins to match her price.

“Thanks u!” Temmie sings, proudly placing the stone on a shelf of the knick-knacks and dryer lint behind her.

“My pleasure. I sure will miss that rock, but I’m glad to see it will go to a good home.”

“Yea, Yeah! Tem will take good care of it!”

“Say Temmie…” You trail off and pull out another rock from your pocket. Temmie’s eyes bug as she shifts her pupils from the rock to you. She’s sweating profusely. “Would you like another?”

--

Six more rocks sold later and you have enough money for the map and still have one rock left over. Temmie seemed absolutely shocked when you placed the grand of gold on the counter and rejoiced that she would now be able to go to “cool leg”. You congratulated her, deciding to refrain from telling her that all the money was hers to begin with, and that you’re walking away with more gold than when you entered.

You grab the map and leave, ready to put this whole ordeal behind you.

Back in the main square, you take a moment to kneel on the ground and unfold the piece of paper. It’s harder to do than you think with only one arm, and when you finally smooth out all the edges, you behold the map to find…

Crayon scribbles.

The paper is covered in crisscrossing lines with no order or direction. There are no land marks, or compass or key, and half the paper is taken up by a huge, crudely drawn self portrait of Temmie.

You flip the paper over, thinking maybe the real map is on the other side and this is just a doodle, a mistake. The other side is blank.

“No… no, no, no, no!” You moan. Two minutes ago you thought you were being crafty in swindling a salesman. Oh how badly you have been played.

Frustrated, you crumple up the map and throw the ball as far as you can. It goes an unsatisfying distance of a couple of feet, but you don’t care as you storm off towards the entrance. Guess you’ll just have to wing it after all.

“Pardon me,” A voice, deep and eloquent, interrupts before you can leave. “I do believe you’ve dropped this.”

You spin around in alarm at the authority of the tone, only to look down in surprise. It’s… another Temmie?

“This belongs to you, does it not?” The Tem holds up the paper ball of your crumpled “map” in one limb that’s thrice as long as the others to reach your height. You swallow and nod, taking the trash from its paw. The leg contracts like a tape measure.

“Ah, good. It is nice to see children taking responsibility for their items. We do not approve of littering here in Temmie Village, but seeing as you are clearly a visitor, I will let you off with a gentle reminder. No sense in punishing those who never learned the rules.”

You stare at the Temmie completely dumbfounded. It smiles up at you, humming mirthfully with a twinkle in its eye.

“Cat got your tongue, young one?”

“You talk… really good,” you say stupidly.

The Temmie’s eyes crinkle as it tries to hide its amusement. “The correct phrasing would be ‘Talk very well’, but adverbs and adjectives can be tricky even for the most fluent speakers. Thank you, young one. I do pride myself on my, shall I say, above average linguistic achievements for my species. Though flaunting such talent is unbecoming of one’s personal image. Dignity and grace are best appreciated when expressed silently.”

Your mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out. You aren’t sure how to respond to that.

“Where are my manners?” The Temmie continues. “I have been conversing with you all this time without even introducing myself. I am Bob.”

“C-Chara,” you reply, crouching down to shake Bob’s tiny paw, despite your better judgement. You sneeze.

“Gesundheit,” Bob says. “And a pleasure to meet you. Though I must ask, what brings you to Temmie Village, young one?”

“I got… lost,” you confess. “I’ve been trying to get directions back to the main road but… no one’s been particularly… helpful.”

“Say no more, young one,” Bob nods knowingly. “I can assist you.”

“You can show me the way?” you ask, your spirits soaring.

“Oh yes. Though I as much as I wish to guide you, I assume being in my presence will just cause you physical discomfort, will it not?”

You reluctantly nod and hand your head in shame. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, young one. We cannot control what we are allergic to. Listen close and I will describe to you the route you need.

“When you leave this place, take the first left you come across and follow it as far as you can go. The turn should be about twenty paces from our cavern entrance. Then turn right and head straight until you reach a dead end. Take one more right followed by two immediate lefts, and you’ll be back amongst civilization. Understood?”

“I think so,” you nod, your eyes burning from all the fur in the air. Left, straight, right, straight, right, left, left. It shouldn’t be too hard to memorize.

“Then you’d best be off, small one! Quick before your eyes and nose permanently turn against you!” Bob says, turning to go on his way. “I wish you luck, and may we both see the day our paths cross again!”

You wave farewell and make for the exit, ready to put this nightmare of a detour behind you. Your eyes and nostrils start to un-swell almost immediately when you squeeze back out through the fissure and you breathe deep, never more thankful in your life to have clear sinuses.

Right. Now to get back on track. You don’t see any other useful sticks on the ground that you could use as a torch. Guess you’re going in blind like the first time.

The first step in Bob’s directions was to take twenty steps and turn left. You start walking, straining your eyes as hard as you can to look for pathways in the pitch-black darkness. When you’ve mentally counted to twenty, you turn and began to feel around for the trail. With a hand sticking straight out in front of you, all you come across is more underbrush, too thick to push through, and your anxiety begins to resurface.

You didn’t mess up Bob’s directions, had you? Maybe you were supposed to turn right instead of left? You spin around a hundred and eighty degrees and poke about the other side of the road to see if you come across the correct path, but this side is just as dense a tangle of grass and bushes as the left side. You try not to double guess yourself. No, Bob had definitely said to go left first, and then straight. Right? Right. Twenty paces. Oh wait, what if those paces had been in Temmie proportions? You would have passed the turn ages ago if that were the case.

You remind yourself not to panic and start to back track. There was no need to get worked up. You walked in a straight line, so you could easily find your way back to Temmie Village and start over if you needed to. You could even go back in, find Bob again and have them repeat the directions to you. No need to freak out yet.

You walk blindly in the dark with your arm stretched out, waiting to hit the rock wall that marked your starting point. You mentally count back from twenty to recount your steps, but when you start getting into the negative numbers, alarm bells start to ring.

This isn’t right. You should have hit the wall by now. There were no other paths to take or accidentally turn down. How could you mess up something as simple as just walking in a straight line? Wait, did you remember to turn left or right when you started to back track? You had been facing the right side of the road instead of the left, so that meant you should have turned right one more time to make sure you had correctly lined yourself up again. Had you turned left and walked even further from Temmie Village?

Completely turned around, you keep walking in a vain attempt to stop yourself from having a break down. If you froze now, you would just completely shut down again and put yourself back at square one. Just keep walking until you hit something and you could orient yourself from there.

The path ends when you run smack dab into a tree, shaking loose a few barely-glowing pine needles that rain down on your head. Okay. A tree. You’ll use this as a starting point. The path here bends sharply right and it looks like the only way to go. You decide to follow it and stay right at every turn until you either stumble out of the forest or reach another dead end. It seemed as full-proof a plan as any.

You turn right and walk, and before long you find yourself at another bend that turns right again. That’s good. Bob’s directions said you’d have to make two right turns in a row. Maybe you accidentally found the right path after all.

You walk as far as you can, keeping an eye out for any signs of the foliage thinning or any hints of life beyond the trees, but find none. At least this path only seems one way. It would be very hard to get turned around on a road so narrow. When the path bends right for a third time, though, you start to get worried that you’re walking in a circle, or box rather. Aw geez, you weren’t going to end up back where you started at the tree, were you?

The trail is short and turns sharply left before you could find out. You keep following it as it’s the only way to go, and your hopes rise when you think you see light building around the next corner and hear a faint hum of quiet conversation. Could it be? People and magic? You pick your pace and round the curve in excitement, only to stop short in awe.

Before you lays a field of echo flowers, each as tall as you, glowing a bright cyan blue, and whispering softly to one another. Standing on top of a slight ridge, you can see they all grow so tightly packed together that they look more like an ocean than a meadow. You think you’d be disappointed you’re still lost if you weren’t so captivated by the surreal beauty of it all.

It occurs to you that this is far from the correct way back to Gerson’s shop, but it’s simultaneously further into Waterfall than you’ve been yet. And from your slight vantage point you think you spy the slightest trace of a warm red glow at the other end of the field reflecting off the tiny waterfalls flowing around the cavern’s edges.

It could just be your eyes playing tricks on you, you remind yourself. Your brain desperately looking for something it wants to see. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a beacon to light the way out.

Once again you find yourself at a crossroads. Literally. Still standing on your little ridge, you debate which path to take. Turn back now and figure out the way back to Gerson’s shop? Or bumble along blindly through the echo flowers to what might be Hotland. You weight the pros and cons of both options. Going forward you can’t get lost; you could just leave an audible trail for you to follow back through the flowers. But if that dim light at the other end of the tunnel isn’t Hotland, what would you do then? Wonder around even longer, getting even MORE off track? Your other choice was to turn back now, find your way back to the main road and have Kid guide you. It would definitely guarantee you wouldn’t get lost again, and assure you had a trusted guide to Hotland, but it would also mean having to be in close proximity to Undyne…

On reflection you don’t know why you thought this would be a hard choice.

You forge head into the flowers without even glancing back.

Undyne wakes up early out of sheer force of habit. Normally the first thing she does in the morning is go for one or two or twenty laps around Waterfall, maybe do twelve dozen pushups or perhaps a couple hundred chin up and a few thousand crunches just to get herself warmed up.

Not today, though. Today she was stuck with babysitting duty.

Sleeping in her armor was uncomfortable, but she had no other choice having worn nothing casual or appropriate to compensate for the heat she generated in her suit underneath the metal exterior.

Groaning, Undyne stretches and yawns. If she acted quickly, she could sprint back home and change into something more suitable for Hotland’s extreme temperatures before she took the punk to their doctor’s appointment. Hell, she’d pretty much have to if she didn’t want to faint from heat stroke as soon as she crossed over into the volcanic region.

Hmm, while she was at home, she might as well grab breakfast. No doubt Gerson would offer to feed her, but she couldn’t impose-

“Undyne!” Kid shouts and frantically raps on her door. “Undyne get up quick! It’s an emergency!”

Undyne is out of bed in less than a second at the sound of Kid’s panicked tone. She opens the door so fast she almost rips it off the hinges.

“What’s wrong? Where’s the danger? Did someone fall down?”

“M-my friend!” Kid hyperventilates, close to tears. “Th-they’re gone!”

“Gone?” Undyne echoes in confusion.

“I-I woke up because I h-had to go to the bathroom, a-and noticed they w-weren’t on the couch!” Kid stammers. “I ch-checked the whole house, b-but they’re not here!”

Shit. Fuck. The ONE time she lets her guard down and looks the other way, the brat goes AWOL on her. After all those crocodile tears they shed last night? She should have known it was all a ruse! She should have guessed it was all a trick!

“Undyne,” Kid says solemnly as she searches for her helmet. “They were really upset yesterday after Napstablook told them their mom wasn’t coming. They became completely detached, a-and I couldn’t help but think of my sister because she gets that way sometimes too when she’s really upset.”

He looks at her, serious, worried. Undyne’s anger drains away to actual dread.

“Wh-what if they ran away to-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Undyne orders. “We’ll find them, okay? They don’t know their way around Waterfall. They can’t have gone far.”

“But they could have been gone for hours by now! A-and it’s not really hard to find a way to… disappear in Waterfall…”

Kid had a point. The punk may not know Waterfall very well but they did know how to get to the dump where bottomless drop offs could sweep you away without a trace. Kid drawing a parallel to Alphys hits too close to home for her, and for a moment she put her in their shoes. Nobody, human or monster, should ever be forced to conclude the only solution to a problem like that is to remove themselves from the equation.

“Kid, go wake Gerson,” Undyne orders as she adjusts the fit of her boots. “Tell him what you told me. I’m gonna call your sister to check if she’s seen anything then I’ll go check the dump.”

“Got it!” Kid nods and runs off down the hall.

Alphys almost doesn’t pick up when Undyne calls her from Gerson’s phone. It was an unholy hour in the morning to be calling someone, so she should have figured, but on her fourth redial Undyne finally gets through.

“Hello?” the lizard answers groggily, her voice slurring like a drunk.

“Alphys! It’s me!”

“Oh, Undyne!” Alphys perks up, suddenly sounding a lot more sober. “What a surprise! I n-never expected you to call so early.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured. But that’s not important right now! The punk ran away again last night! I need your help to find them.”

“W-w-what?! They’re gone!? But why? D-do you think it was a ploy? Do you think they sleep walk? Gosh, I decide to take one little nap and I miss something big! Oh why did I think resting my eyes was a good idea!”

“Alphys, focus! I need you to look back through your security tapes to tell me which way they could have gone.”

“C-can do, Undyne! B-but it might take me a while-”

“That’s okay. I’m gonna circle the dump a couple of times then come back to Gerson’s to check again, but if you find out anything, call back here right away, got it?”

“Uh, o-okay? I don’t see what good it will do calling back if you’re not here, b-but will do, Undyne! Bye!”

The line goes dead and Undyne hangs up the receiver just as Kid makes his way back into the room.

“Yo! I told Gerson like you asked! He said he’d go check the neighborhood.”

“Good job, Kid. I’m heading out now. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Wait!” Kid interrupts her before she could leave. “What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

“You ,” Undyne says, lightly poking him in the chest. “Are gonna wait here and listen for any phone calls. I asked your sister to look through the security footage of last night. If she finds any clues that can tell us where the punk went, she’s gonna call back here and I need someone here to answer her.”

“But-! They’re my friend, Undyne! I can’t just sit around here waiting! I should be out there searching with you! I want to help too!”

“You will be helping, Kid! When your sister calls back here, come find me and tell me immediately, okay? In the meantime, I can’t have two children getting lost on my watch. Got it?”

Frowning, Kid averts his eyes, but stays silent. It was clear to Undyne he didn’t like being left behind, but he reluctantly did what he was told.

“Kid, I’ll probably be back before your sister even gets a chance to call me. And when I do come back, we can go look for them together, alright?”

Kid nods halfheartedly and stays put. Undyne watches him for a second before turning out the door. She didn’t have time to linger. She had a human to find.

Kid watches Undyne hurry out the door. Gerson wasn’t far behind, though his pace was much less urgent. He hobbled like he had all the time in the world, wearing lazy smile on his face like he was going for an early morning stroll instead of looking for a lost person.

Kid wouldn’t deny he was the least bit annoyed. His friend was lost and maybe scared and definitely hurting in more ways than one, and yet the old tortoise was moving like a… well, like a tortoise!

Kid pouts. He couldn’t stay here tapping his tail and waiting for news to come to him! He had to be out there! Searching like the others! Not all monsters in Waterfall were as friendly as Gerson or Undyne. He had to find them before they got hurt! Or worse, before they hurt themselves.

The phone rings. Kid jumps to his feet immediately and answers before the first chime even finishes.

“Sis?”

“K-kid? W-what are you doing at Gerson’s shop? Do Mom and Dad know you’re there?”

“I spent the night here! But that’s not important. Did you find my friend?”

“I… Yes-! Well, yes and no-, I mean- I know which way they went but I don’t know where they are n-now.”

“Well tell me what you do know,” Kid asks, his tail thumping in irritation. “Undyne told me to relay any news to her so we can find them as fast as we can!”

“My tapes s-say they left the shop around three a.m. this morning, and they went East into E-echo Flower Forest. They still must be in there, though. I don’t have any cameras in the forest bec-cause it’s too dark, but they didn’t come back out and I haven’t seen them cross over into Hotland yet.”

Kid goes silent on the line. Echo Flower Forest was just down the road! He could catch up to them within minutes!

“Kid? You still there?”

“I’m still here,” Kid answers distantly. “Thanks for all your help, sis. I’m gonna go after them.”

“Kid! No! Stay where you are! Let Undyne take care of it!”

“I can’t, Alphys! They’re my friend and they need me! And I’m gonna be there for them!” Kid argues fervently before calming his temper. “Don’t worry, sis. I know Waterfall inside and out! I’ll be okay, and we’ll both be in Hotland before you know it! Alright?”

“Kid! Don’t-!” But Kid never heard his sister finish her sentence as he put the phone on the receiver and scampered out the door.

Two laps around the junk yard and Undyne returns to Gerson’s shop with nothing to show for it.

The fact that she didn’t have any proof that the punk had gone to the garbage dump should have been reassuring for her, but sadly it wasn’t. Just because she didn’t find anything, didn’t prove that the kid hadn’t gone that way. If anything, it only proved that they had left no trace behind.

The phone is ringing when she steps into the back room and Undyne is quick to answer.

”-pick up this time, please pick up this time, please pick up this time, please-”

“Alphys?” Undyne speaks up over the scientist’s nervous mantra.

“Undyne! Oh thank God you answered! I feel like I’ve been trying to get through for ages!”

“Sorry about that,” Undyne apologizes. Where the hell was Kid? She thought he’d agree to answer the phone for her. Ugh! She knew she should have made him promise to stay out!

”Undyne, listen, I know which way the human went, but you need to catch up to them quick!”

“Why? Which way did they go?”

”East. Very deliberately it seems, but they haven’t reached your arena yet. My brother ran after them.”

East. Undyne mentally exhales in relief. That was towards Hotland, and the exact opposite direction of the dump and it’s many bottomless drop offs.

“We did tell them they have a doctor’s appointment with you today. You think they’re on their way to you?”

”I… well, I don’t know about that, but Mettaton knows there in the Underground now, and if the human does get as far as Hotland without you, things are probably going to go south real quick. I told him not to tell the rest of the Underground, but you know how he can’t keep a secret!”

“Right. I’m on it. I’ll catch up to them and keep that robotic nuisance at bay.”

The warrior hangs up the receiver, retreats from the shop, and jogs into the forest.

Echo flowers, as it turns out, do not make good trail markers.

The flowers grow so close together, that if you tried to whisper a message in one, it wasn’t long before the little plant shared its tidbit with the twenty flowers around it. How would you be able to follow your path back if every flower in the marsh said the same thing?

You tried to find a work around; whispering extra softly, speaking to only the most secluded flowers, but each blossom turned out to be a terrible gossip, swaying and bending as if weighed down by the secret spoken to it and just itching to pass it on.

You give up rather quickly when you realize this won’t work and instead try to focus on memorizing the snippets of conversation the flowers already carried. And while you’re positive that the flowers must have distorted some of the dialog over time, you can’t help but feel like some of their messages are a bit… ominous.

“Be… ware…” Whispers one flower, bowing to your ear.

Your hair stands on end. Beware of what? Pssh, no, there’s nothing to beware of here. There’s only flowers around you as far as you can see.

”Watch… out…” Another flower sighs.

A shiver runs down your spine, and your palms start to sweat. You remind yourself it’s just old, repeated words the plants are saying, nothing to be afraid of. Still, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder. You swear you saw something move out of the corner of your eye…

”It’s… coming!” A third flower warns and you think you hear a twig snap. You spin around, slapping yourself in the face with the ears of your hat in the process. The grass rustles up ahead. Your heart is pounding. Something’s out there.

“H-hello?” You call out, your voice shockingly loud compared to the muted voices of the flowers.

”Hello?” “Hello?” “Hello?” the flowers echo back.

The shifting grass stops. Maybe it was just a breeze. Or maybe the other person heard you and doesn’t want you to know that they’re there.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you begin to back away… as slowly… as carefully… as you can, never taking your eyes off the last place you saw the flower stalks bend and sway. All around you, the flowers feel like they’ve gone silent.

You take a step… and then another… and then another… and then your back hits something solid.

You scream and jump. The solid thing screams and jumps. You whip around and find-!

“Kid?” you blurt out, gasping as the startled lizard picks himself up off the floor. He blinks at you a bit, his pupils wide in surprise.

“Y-yo! Hey! I found you!” His face breaks out into an enormous grin. “Dude, you’re alright! Oh, man, we were so worried!” He head-butts you on your good side. “I thought-! I thought you snuck out do go do something stupid… Why’d you run away, bro?”

“I… I didn’t mean to,” you say. “I had a… bad dream and went for a walk to take my mind off it, and ended up getting lost. Sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s alright, dude! I’m just glad to know you’re safe. C’mon, we can head back to Undyne and-“

“No!” you shout reflexively. “I… I can’t go back to Undyne, Kid. She’s dangerous.”

“Well, of course she’s dangerous. She’s the Captain of the Royal Guard! That’s why we should stick with her through the rest of Waterfall, and-“

“No, Kid,” you try to explain. “She’s dangerous to me. Yesterday on the bridges… and when we were sparring… I don’t know why, but I think she was trying to hurt me. I know she was.”

Kid’s face goes from curious to concerned.

“But… why would she want to do that? You’re a kid like me, not a criminal. In fact, she’s out looking for you right now!”

You can feel your face visibly blanch at the thought of Undyne hunting you down. Kid sees it too.

“I dunno, but… do you think you could just show me the rest of the way to Hotland? We’re already pretty far, right? We can do it without Undyne’s help, can’t we?”

“Y-yeah…” Kid says slowly. “It’s just two more rooms after this. Follow me.”

“Thank you,” you say, relieved, and fall in line with Kid as he guides you through the flowers.

Undyne summons a spear to light her way. The glowing green javelin casts long shadows in the forest and illuminates the eyes of the night creatures hidden in the thicket, watching her with care.

She combs the woods but comes up with neither the human nor the royal scientist’s little brother. After deeming the area clear, she turns towards the meadow, home to the namesake of Echo Flower Forest.

Standing on the rise, she scans over the flowers’ tops, searching for any sign of movement. Even from up here she can hear the eerie sounds of the flowers’ chatter.

Ugh. She hated this room. She always had. Detached voices talking to no one wasn’t cool, it was creepy. The flowers sounded more like wailing spirits who failed to pass on rather than recordings of people she knew. She could never understand the other kids’ fascination with them.

Cautiously, the warrior begins to pick her way down into marsh. Her feet sink into the bog, swamp water sucking at her heavy metal boots like drowning hands trying to drag her down with them. When she steps into a particularly soggy patch of bog, Undyne has to stop to yank her foot free, all the while the flowers whine and moan around her.

”Where are you? Where are you?” a flower asks on repeat when she lurches her foot free. Sweat beads on her brow. The voice sounded like a kid, but warped by time, the words sounded haunting.

”I’m over here,” another flower responds, as Undyne tries to circumvent the plants and their spooky game of telephone.

”Come find me!” a third flower teases a ways off. Undyne makes a point not head towards it, and instead approaches a quieter patch to calm her rapid pulse.

”Ssshhhhh!” several flowers hiss at her at once when she bumps into them. Startled, the warrior flinches and staggers back, right into a cluster that explodes with laughter when she stumbles.

Panting, Undyne’s one eye darted around. Throat dry and scales clammy, she found she couldn’t calm her nerves. This was starting to be a bit too much. These freaky flowers needed to shut up quick before she decided to some weed whacking with her lance.

There’s a scream off in the distance and Undyne almost launches clean out of her armor. That scream wasn’t from a flower, though. It was real, it was close, and it sounded familiar.

Straining her ears, Undyne pin points the source. It’s half way across the field. Putting her feelings about the unsettling flowers aside, Undyne charges fourth towards the noise, summoning a spear at the ready. When she catches a flash of Kid’s yellow scales, she puts on a burst of speed and practically explodes from the flowers before him.

“Kid!” She shouts, her voice quaking with alarm. She quickly toughens her tone to hide her fear, not wanting to look weak in front of anybody, especially him. “I thought I told you to wait at Gerson’s for me! Don’t you know how dangerous it is to wonder off!”

“U-undyne!” Kid startles, tripping over himself as he turns around. It’s then Undyne notices the human cowering by his side, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. “I-I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand waiting around doing nothing! I had to-!”

“YOU!” the royal guard interrupts and turns on the human. “What were you thinking running away last night?!”

“I-I wasn’t-“

“Damn right you weren’t!” Undyne cuts them off. “Do you know how dangerous that was? How worried you made everyone?”

“I’m sorry,” they whimper. “I didn’t mean to.”

“So why’dja do it then?!”

“I-“

Undyne catches the punk’s eyes flick from hers to her spear and she notices something that wasn’t there a before; a new sort of wariness, a new type of caution. Now why would that be there if the punk had accidentally got lost?

“I had a nightmare and accidentally wandered into the woods,” they say, not looking at her. Undyne narrows her eye suspiciously.

They’re lying.

“Well your little stunt certainly wasted most of my morning.” Undyne scoffs. “Might as well keep going to Hotland since we’re already eighty percent there.”

“Sorry,” the brat apologizes again, and starts to move to the back of the line.

“Oh, no you don’t, punk. You should walk in front. That way I can make sure you don’t get lost again.”

The human swallows, the apprehension clear on their face, but they move to the front without arguing. Kid joins them to lead the way.

The air is tense between the three of them as they march in silence, fueled by the glares Undyne sends out that boar into the back of the human’s skull. She doesn’t notice her own blatant staring, though, too lost in her thoughts trying to puzzle together the punk’s behavior.

They were lying about having a nightmare and roaming off. So did that mean she was initially right? Had they intentionally tried to sneak away? Was it all a big act? Undyne grinds her teeth together. There still wasn’t enough proof, but her misgivings were growing. She needed to expose them once and for all, and she needed to do it quick.

Kid tries to make conversation to lighten the mood.

“Oh man! I can’t wait for you to meet my sister! She’s the smartest monster in the Underground and a doctor! I bet she’ll be able to make you better in ten seconds flat!” he boasts, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Do you really think your sister can fix my shoulder?” the brat asks.

“Of course she can, squirt!” Undyne pipes up from her daze, insulted that anyone would dare doubt Alphys and ready to defend her honor. “Alphys can do anything she sets her mind to! That’s why she’s the royal scientist! She’s the best!”

Kid smirks and gives the punk a “can you believe this?” kind of look.

“Yeah, you and my sister are really close, aren’t you Undyne?” he asks. “What else is she good at?”

“Everything!” Undyne answers definitively. “Alphys is, like, the third most knowledgeable person on humans in all the Underground, plus she’s responsible for bring us the UnderNet connection and hooking up every monster with cell phone by building them out the spare parts she finds in the dump! She’s taught me everything I need to know when encountering humans.”

“Sounds like you really like her,” the brat says carefully, testing the waters for safe places to tread.

“Well, DUH! Who wouldn’t like Alphys? She’s wicked smart and passionate about her work! She has dedication and drive! I’m surprised she’s not constantly having to step over monsters who come to bask in her glory!”

“Wow, have you told her any of this?” Kid says. “Imagine how cool it would be to see the captain of the Royal Guard date my sister! You’d be like, my in-law! That would be SO COOL!”

At that, Undyne blushes and falters. “Ha, ha! Y-yeah, Kid. Wouldn’t that be something. Unfortunately I’m probably not what Alphys is looking for.”

“What makes you say that?” the brat asks, genuinely curious.

“Alphys is just so…! Out of my league! She probably wants to date someone who has a quadruple digit IQ like her, or someone who can reverse engineer a particle accelerator or something. She’s probably looking for someone more her speed if she’s looking at all.”

“Well, let’s just ask her what she’s looking for when we get to Hotland.” Kid suggests, skipping ahead a few paces as the forest thins back into bare caverns. “I bet you two have some common interests.”

“Yeah, of course we do!” Undyne exclaims indignantly as the trio exit the field of flowers and onto a rickety old bridge spanning across a chasm.

“Really? Like what?”

“Like anime!” The warrior scoffs and raises her head high. “It’s the epitome of human behavior and Alphys has all the best kinds! She’s let me watch them all and everything I’ve learned about human culture I’ve learned from those documentaries!”

“Oh, that’s neat,” The punk says as Undyne’s training arena comes into view. Hotland isn’t even visible yet she already feels like she’s being cooked alive. “I’ve never heard of anime before. Maybe you can show me one before I go back home with the King?”

“Right!”

Wait. The King? That’s right, this punk was on their way to infiltrate the King’s castle and she had almost lead them right to the front door! RAUGH! How could she have been so stupid?! Yet again this human found a way to weasel past her defenses and mess with her mind! And by getting her to go on about Alphys of all things!

This was the third time they’ve gotten into her head! There was no way she could let this thing go to Hotland where she couldn’t follow! She couldn’t let them reach Asgore!

“No.”

Kid and the brat are half way across the bridge when she utters the word, low and cold.

Kid stops first when he notices Undyne has stopped following.

“Undyne?” he cocks his head. “Is something the matter?”

Instead of a response, Undyne charges, calling forth a long spear to catapult over Kid and onto the bridge. The wooden planks buck and shudder and the human and Kid are knocked off their feet.

The punk instinctively throws out their arms to catch themselves and yelp when they hit their bad side. Tears prick the corners of their eyes.

“You’ve distracted me for the last time, punk.”

“U-Undyne?”

“Don’t move. I’m not letting you progress any farther, especially not to Asgore.”

Behind her, Kid blinks in a daze and rolls over to push himself up. Unaware of his surroundings, one foot slips off the edge of the bridge. He inhales sharply and lets out a strangled cry as his lower half slides off the edge, his feet kicking but finding no purchase.

“H-help! Dude! Undyne! I-I’m slipping!”

The brat’s head snaps down to Kid and their face goes white as snow.

“Undyne. Kid’s falling. Quick, you’re closer; you’ve got to help him!”

“Like I’d turn my back on you!” Undyne growls. “You can’t trick me anymore! We settle this here and now!”

“Undyne, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” They plead, desperate and angry.

Kid’s struggling becomes more frantic as his torso gives away, leaving him hanging on his chin.

“D-dudes! Help! I can’t hold on much longer!”

“I’ll be with you in a second, Kid! I have to deal with them first!” Undyne calls over her shoulder, without taking her eye off her target. She readies her stance. “So what’s it gonna be, punk? Fight or flee?”

“Neither!” The human shouts at her. “Undyne what are you doing!? Kid’s going to fall!”

Undyne narrows her eye, calculating her opponent. Now that she’s separated them from their living shield the brat had only two options; fight here or run away. And judging by their posture they looked ready to sprint. Undyne bites back a smile. The second they’d move, she’d let their spear fly.

“I-I’m losing my grip!” Kid cries.

The punk meets her gaze one final time, and just like she predicted, the kid bolts, and Undyne unleashes her spear.

Except, the brat didn’t run away like she hoped. They ran toward her.

The miscalculation means Undyne’s spear completely misses its mark and harmlessly sails over the human’s head as they dive between her legs like a base runner.

“HEEELP!”

Without thinking, they lurch their left arm forward and manage to snag Kid’s sweater just as his hold on the edge gives away.

All of his weight drops down on their bad arm at once. There’s a sickening pop! heard by all three, and the human shouts, short and sharp before biting down on their tongue and their pupils shrink to pin points.

Tears running down their cheeks, the punk grabs a fist full of Kid’s shirt with their other hand, braces their left foot against the wood, and reels themselves backwards, hauling kid back up in the process.

For several heartbeats nobody moves or says anything. Undyne stares in shock as the two kids take a moment to do nothing but breathe.

“You… saved my skin,” Kid pants, still trembling form the ordeal. “That sound your shoulder made wasn’t pretty. You okay, dude?”

The human nods, not looking up from their hands and knees. After what feels like an eternity, they manage to raise their head and look over at Undyne. Their expression makes her freeze.

Undyne is used to monsters looking upon her like she’s the sun itself. She’s also used to monsters looking at her with hatred or fear.

But she can’t recall someone ever looking at her completely disgusted.

The punk seethes and stands up to their full height, not breaking eye contact with her for a second. Was it finally happening? The battle the brat had strived to avoid? Where they now finally going to give in and fight? Finally done running away and hiding behind shields were they?

Raw magic crackled at the warrior’s finger tips, waiting to be shaped. The human inhaled.

“Undyne,” The human says clear and commanding, no longer a trace of fear in their voice. The magic thickened in Undyne’s palm. Here it comes.

“I’m sorry, alright?”

Wait- what.

“Whatever I did to make you hate me, I apologize, okay?”

What? No, this isn’t what was supposed to happen. They were supposed to charger her, lash out, and fight her with their true strength. What are they doing? Another ruse? Another scheme?

“I know I can’t make everyone like me,” the punk goes on, their fingers curling into fists. “I kept trying to get on your good side, but I can see now you’re not gonna let that happen no matter what I do. So, fine! Go ahead and hate me then! But don’t let other people get hurt because of whatever you have against me!”

They stare each other down for a bit, but as hard as Undyne searches, she can’t find even the smallest hint of an ulterior motive in their gaze. The punk was exposing themselves here and now with all they had, completely honest for all to see.

Their hands are shaking when they finish their speech, and they clench and unclench their fingers in distress. Kid tiptoes up to their side and tentatively nudges their arm. The touch is enough to make the tension leave their shoulders and they exhale, bushed.

“Undyne, thank you for getting me this far to Hotland, but I think Kid and I can make it from here. C’mon, Kid. Let’s go.”

The human passes Undyne without so much as a second glance while Kid looks over his shoulder with a mixture of pity and disbelief. He turns away when he catches her staring and hangs his head.

She can’t understand. Why wouldn’t they retaliate? The punk had the perfect time to strike, but instead they’re acting like… like...!

Like how a monster would act…

And all the while she kept attacking first the way the humans had.

“Punk… wait,” Undyne calls after them, reaching out a hand to grab them by the shoulder. The human stops, eyeing her skeptically. They don’t say anything, waiting for her to speak.

“I’m… I’m sorry too,” Undyne admits. “All this time I thought you were lying about who you were… pretending to be someone else. I can see now that was never the case and I misjudged you. Can you… can you forgive me?”

The punk looks away, their lips drawn into a thin line, as their fists curl and uncurl, and Undyne realizes that they have to actually think about their answer.

“How about… a truce instead?” they offer after the silence dragged on to uncomfortable levels. “I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. I’ll go to the King and back to the Ruins and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again. Would that make you happy?”

Undyne looks down, crestfallen. They weren’t exactly forgiving her, but she guessed she deserved it.

“Deal,” she sighs halfheartedly.

“Thank you… for the apology.” They tell her. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t be better friends. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.”

“Yeah…” Undyne exhales and gets to her feet. Geez, even from here she can feel the heat from Hotland. She can’t go any farther than this without roasting alive in this tin can she calls armor. She’d better start heading back home before she became an actual fish stick.

Undyne lingers back as the two friends head off through her arena and into the next district. Sans should be waiting at his station to meet them like he said he would, but knowing him Undyne figures she’d better call ahead just in case.

Gerson is there to greet her when she returns to his shop.

“So! Any luck?” he asks, not particularly waiting on the edge of his seat.

“Yeah…” Undyne says.

“Well you could have fooled me! That’s not exactly the tone of someone who successfully found a lost person. How’d it go?”

“I… They’re on their way to Hotland.”

“What’s that?” Gerson teases, cupping his hand to his ear. “Did you say that you, the renowned Undyne, let her quarry get away?”

“No, I intentionally let them go. Sans was right.” Undyne says moving closer to the phone. She takes the receiver but hesitates to call the number. “Gerson, do you think I made the right choice?” She asks her old mentor.

“Hm, let me answer your question with another question,” Gerson says. “What makes you doubt you made a wrong one?”

“Well, for starters I watched them risk their life save another monster that they barely knew for two days, and then, even though I know they were scared, they stood up to me for not doing anything.” She gives the old tortoise a sheepish look. “They were more upset that someone else almost got hurt than they were worried about themselves getting hurt. How many other monsters do you know who are like that?”

The warrior sighs and rubs her neck. “The way they looked at me after they saved Kid… They knew I was out to get them in the end. They may not have known why, but they knew I was, and in the end when they had the choice fight they decided to speak. When they had the option to run, they chose to stay and help… When they looked at me, for a second I didn’t know who the real bad guy was.”

“Well, it sounds like to me you made the right choice then,” Gerson says sympathetically.

“But Gerson, they’re the last piece we need to set all of monsterkind free! Is it right to deny the emancipation of thousands solely because one human turns out to be good? Did I just damn us all to be trapped in the Underground even longer because I saw something that resonated with me in the eyes of one child?”

“Do you feel damned, Undyne?”

“What? No... I don’t think so.”

“Well, then neither will anyone else once they all get to know this kid, so you needn’t worry.”

“I do feel guilty, though,” Undyne confesses.

“What for?”

“For almost killing someone who’s a better monster than I am.”

The old tortoise nods knowingly and lets the conversation drop. Undyne turns towards the wall and dials her sentry’s number.

Sans almost didn’t hear his phone ring underneath all the barking. Struggling to get out of the five leads, he frees up his hand and pulls out his cell from his coat pocket. The phone almost falls up into the snow but he manages to catch it in time. Once free of the muffling fabric, the ringtone sang loud and clear.

♫A turtle lives in water, a tortoise lives on land, a turtle's not tortoise, it’s not hard to understand♪

Oh that’s weird. Why is Gerson calling?

Bringing the phone up to his skull, Sans thumbs the screen and hits “accept call”.

“Yeah?”

”I couldn’t do it.”

Sans isn’t sure if it’s the fact that Undyne answered or if it’s her word choice that makes him say; “Come again?”

”The kid. The human. You were right. They don’t have a clue about who they are. You won.”

“That’s what Paps and I have been trying to say this whole time,” Sans says, following up with a muffled (“Hey! You! Cut it out! Leave the mail carrier alone!”) If Undyne had heard she didn’t say so.

”Anyway, Kid and the punk are headed to your station. You should see them in a couple of minutes. Make sure they get to Alphys in one piece, okay?”

“Gee, I’d love to Undyne, really, but -ngfh!- I’m not at my post right now.”

”What? What do you mean you’re not at your post?! Being a sentry is your fucking job!”

“I know, I know, but I, uh, really screwed the pooch yesterday when I forgot I made a certain promise and then got some visitors at my station. And instead of letting sleeping dogs lie, they made me hightail it back to Snowdin and now I’m a little tied up compensating with some overdue quality time with the canine guard unit.”

”SANS, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, BUT I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE MAKING PUNS, SO YOU’D BETTER CUT IT OUT RIGHT NOW OR YOU’RE FIRED!” Undyne rages. “Just… when do you think you’ll be able to return to your station?”

“That depends. How long does it take to walk five dogs? That’s not a set up for a joke, by the way. I’ve been on this walk for hours. Please, send help.” Sans can practically hear Undyne rubbing her temples as she exhales into the receiver.

“I’ll be over there in a few. Just give me a minute to grab some squeaky toys.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be… hanging around.”

”That better have not been a visual gag. I can’t even see you right now.”

“…”

”Oh my God, it was, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

”Sans! If I arrive in Snowdin and find you LITERALLY TIED UP, I will terminate you on the spot!”

“Oh, come on, Undyne. Haven’t you barked up the wrong tree enough for one day?”

“YOU’RE THREATENING TO MAKE PAPYRUS AN ONLY CHILD, SANS!”

“I kid, I kid,” Sans chuckles. “See you in a few, Undyne.”

With that, Sans ends the call. He turns his head to focus on the five dogs intently circling the base of a tree, upside down in his field of view. Their leashes have tangled into one giant knot, with Sans hanging off one of the low branches, wrapped up tight like one of Muffet’s customers. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have any blood that could have rushed to his head, or else he would have a major headache from hanging upside down so long in this tether-cocoon the dogs have twisted him up into. The events leading up to this moment had not been quite as funny as the final outcome, but he had tried to make light of it anyway.

“Hey, guys,” Sans whistles to get their attention. “I think that squirrel you all went after is long gone. Mind helping me down now?”

[disneydreamlights]

For Skylar: A5-A7, A13, A19, B8, B9, the C section, D5, E2, E6, F1-F4, F10, G7.

So what I’m gathering from both you and Zoe sending Sky is she’s a popular OC, cool. 

Are they good at handling change in their life?

She’s not really that great at it. She can adapt to smaller changes, but when it comes to larger changes she starts getting very quickly overwhelmed with them. When her Keyblade Master died, even after she’d started moving on, it took a lot of time to adapt to her new Master because she had no idea how to adjust.

Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Haha, no. She’ll act like it at times she does but god does she question her interpretation of events all the time. She’s not very confident in her world view unfortunately. In DR rps, whenever she messes up in a trial it tends to not help that either.

Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted?

She’s more likely to admit that she overreacted to something than excuse it. So if she gets angry she’ll be like “Yeah I was angry but maybe I could’ve approached that calmer” once she knows the full story. It also depends on the reaction though too, it’s very often things that push her out of her comfort zones that give her extreme reactions in the first place.

Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

No, surprisingly. She can be afraid but she doesn’t have anything that she’s just crazy afraid of and is scared of running into. Like she’s scared of losing her friends but that’s not really a phobia.

What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?

Betrayal, that’s about it. If she trusts you and you kick that trust to the curve, she will not take it well. Besides that, for the most part she doesn’t have too many issues with things putting her in a bad mood for no reason. Unless you count like anxiety and stuff, then her social anxiety does a pretty decent job of that.

Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?

Overall no, she’s a pretty serious oc but she has her moments where she can have good lines, especially in some of the early Skyuuya interactions. Fun fact, this is still one of my favorite lines I’ve written: Can't say I disagree because she is pretty but I'm also sure he'd flirt with a tree if I put a skirt on it...

Anyways, outside of her rare moments of humor, I’d say probably not, especially in universe since most of it is in her thoughts anyways.

What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM… 

Sarcastic humor. She’s sarcastic and a bit mean with her humor, but still.

Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Oh god...very, very strong moral code to go with her strong sense of judgement. She follows her moral code to the best of her abilities, but literally the best way to describe her would be she’s like lawful good on D&D alignments because she follows the rules as they should be to do good.

Now granted, there are things she’s flexible on, but they’re very few and far between and self-defense is the only reason she’ll accept for violating them.

Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Sky killed somebody once. She is still beating herself for it however many years later the rp takes place. It could be like forty years later and she could be happily married and she’s still beating herself up over it.

Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

She does, I’m having difficulties explaining why but when it comes to any of her particularly important ideologies, they have to match. She won’t start fights over it in most cases, but she’ll definitely make a note to avoid those people who collide with hers.

Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

Lesser, but more important. She understands her role as a Keyblade Master, even if it’s in a time where there are a lot more Keyblade Wielders, makes her important, but she’s kinda very upset with herself so she thinks a lot of people are better people than her.

Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

Her morals went out the windows in a life or death situation with her best friend so I don’t think either are the case. XD

What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

She’s got more than enough munny to occasionally spare some to those who need it, but she’s more likely to do it with food. She feels bad leaving them to starve, so she’ll make an effort to help them, especially since as a Keyblade Wielder she views it as her duty to help anyone who needs her.

That being said she’ll only do it if she has the ability to. If she’s put in a situation (like post PoD) where her own survival has to come first, she’ll prioritize that instead.

Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort?

People change, she’s seen it in both her best friends and her sister, but she doesn’t believe it just happens, she believes change needs a catalyst. Landon changed because he fell to darkness, Serafine became less bubbly because she became blind in one eye, Marina started to have temper issues because of the stress of everything that happened. Nobody changes without a catalyst, those are just inevitable.

Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

Having been in a situation where she had to violate her own moral code, she has to have a more realistic and practical view to morality, but that doesn’t mean she’ll approve of her own actions.

Do they believe in ghosts? If not, why? If so, do they think they’re magical/tie into their religion, or are they scientifically plausible?

...I feel the need to point out she’s a KH oc and they have both the Underworld and Halloweentown in canon. She believes in ghosts.

Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

Strongest: Body-Kinesthetic (She has a very good sense of her body due to her combat training, and it continues to get better as she trains more.)

Weakest: Linguistic (She’s just...really not a language person. At all.)

Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?

Yes and yes, she very frequently tries to learn more about the worlds she visits for her training on a regular basis, even if she knows she’ll never have any practical use for the knowledge.

What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there?

It depends on the universe and my denial levels.

In regular universes, she lives in a one bedroom apartment in Daybreak Town.

In my version of post PoD, she does her best to find a home with Yuuya in the falling apart despair world.

In post PoD, she’s dead.

What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum...to be honest it probably wouldn’t be a permanent home, because in no matter what universe she’s always on the move, trying to make the world(s) a better place, so I actually wouldn’t be surprised if she always stayed based in a small apartment. Maybe if she moved in with people it’d be different, but she wouldn’t want something big.

Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?

Yeah, definitely.

How clean are they overall with home upkeep?

She keeps it clean enough where if somebody besides like Marina or Sera were to stop by she wouldn’t be embarrassed but besides that...she really only does the bare minimum.

Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

All my ocs have some kind of artistic skill, but hers is a bit lacking compared to most of my ocs. She can play piano, but she’s only an average pianist, which is about where she assesses her skills too.

Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?

If thirteen counts as childhood, then she’d really like to forget the sight of the Keyblade Master who decided that she was worth training get killed by Heartless while trying to save her sister while remembering that those Heartless were summoned by a mistake her best friend.

That’s always a wonderful memory I could see her wanting to forget.

[rubiaryutheroyal]

Maya and Ema argue over whose better at solving mysteries, Wright or Edgeworth. Pearl and Kay join in.

Maya: Okay, Ema. I think you need to focus on the hard facts, not just feelings.

Ema: Sorry, Maya, but you’re the one who needs to look over the evidence again.

[What began as a casual chat between the two, recalling great memories about past cases and their adventures has somehow led into a heated debate over which of their respective lawyer buddies is the better mystery-solver.]

Maya: Hey, even you have to admit that Nick has beaten Mr. Edgeworth in all but one of his cases. I think the official record is proof enough.

Ema: But that record is misleading! Sure, he’s won a bunch, but Mr. Edgeworth works on a day-to-day basis. He has way more cases under his belt!

Maya: Hey, it’s not a matter of quantity when it comes to solving crimes; it’s the difficulty! And I’d say Nick has him beat by miles!

Ema: In what way?

Maya: For one, he has to argue against the police who usually do their investigation first. For another, the culprits trick the police into overlooking them. Those criminals have to be pretty crafty to do that!

Ema: Sure, but it doesn’t mean facing off with criminals on the scene is any easier! Those guys try to escape in whatever way to avoid being caught at all. I’d say that makes them craftier than those who end up in court, since they skip out on the risk of slipping up somewhere and getting caught in a heavily guarded place!

Maya: Hey, the only reason culprits show up in court is thanks to the efforts of the defense drawing information out from the evidence and testimonies! Not to mention, it’s always an uphill battle to argue with the prosecution and have to find the real culprit just to convince everyone! It’s like doing two jobs in one!

[Their bickering draws attention of Pearl.]

Pearl: Huh? H-hey, why are you two fighting? Please stop!

Maya: Don’t worry, Pearly! We’re just having an informed debate. And I’m defending Nick from Ema’s claim that Mr. Edgeworth is the better crime-solver!

Pearl: What? But Mr. Nick is a defense lawyer. Isn’t that already a tougher job than a prosecutor?

Maya: That’s right, Pearly! And just by being a defense lawyer, Nick has to face off against odds thought to be insurmountable, but he still wins anyway!

Ema: Huh? Hey, two-against-one is no fair! But still, isn’t it basically by luck that things work out for Mr. Wright?

Maya: Nuh-uh! …Well, I mean, sure, he does get really lucky sometimes, but it’s not just because he’s lucky! People don’t call him the “Ace Attorney” because of luck!

Ema: Er, well… I guess that’s true. He is pretty good at what he does…

Maya: Ha!

Ema: Buuut! I’m not saying that he isn’t. I’m saying that he isn’t as good as Mr. Edgeworth!

Maya: Oh, yeah? Where’s your proof?

Pearl: Yeah! Where’s your proof?

Ema: Well, um… H-hey, this double-teaming is making it hard to focus…

???: Have no fear, for the Yatagarasu is here!

All else: Huh?

[Suddenly, Kay hops down from… well, actually since they’re in a courthouse lobby, she has to come in through the doors.]

Kay: Hey, Ema! It sounds like you’re in a pickle!

Ema: Oh, Kay!

Maya: Huh? Where’d you come from, Kay?

Kay: Somewhere. But that’s beside the point! I hear you’re arguing over who’s the better crime-solver, huh?

Maya: Yeah, but I think we’ve got Ema stumped.

Kay: Hehehe… Sorry, but if you’re looking for proof, I got some!

Maya: W-whaaaat?

Pearl: Y-you do?

Kay: Sure! Just think about it: Where would Mr. Wright be if it weren’t for Mr. Edgeworth?

Maya: Um… you mean from the beginning? Not a lawyer, I guess.

Kay: Exactly! It’s thanks to Mr. Edgeworth lending him a hand in some way that he wins his court cases! If Mr. Edgeworth outright refused to help, I don’t think Mr. Wright would really do that well.

Maya: Well, sure, but Mr. Edgeworth doesn’t help him all the time. He’s not even around for some of Nick’s cases. We can’t credit everything Nick does to Mr. Edgeworth!

Pearl: Not to mention, we’re Feys! We can channel Mystic Mia, who was Mr. Nick’s mentor, if we’re really stumped!

Kay: Um… I don’t really get the whole spirit channeling thing, but isn’t calling a spirit kinda like a cheat card? It’s basically calling in someone else, isn’t it?

Maya: Well… I guess it could be, but usually we have to explain the situation to Mia before she gets answers. But she always does!

Kay: Well, then. I think that goes to show how great your sister is, but it doesn’t really help Mr. Wright’s case.

Maya: …Oh, yeah.

Pearl: Oh.

Ema: Meanwhile, Mr. Edgeworth can get help from me and Kay sometimes, but all I do is help with a little scientific investigation!

Kay: And I just help with breaking down the facts of a crime with Little Thief! It’s like a planner, but with holograms. The rest still falls on Mr. Edgeworth to do all the solving!

Ema: Exactly! So I think we have a pretty good basis for claiming that Mr. Edgeworth is the superior solver.

Maya: W-well, it’s not like Nick always needs help from Mia. He fights a lot of his own battles in court and on the scene.

Pearl: Hmm… though I have to agree that Mr. Edgeworth always seems to be on top of things, while Mr. Nick is usually… not.

Maya: P-Pearly! Don’t tell me you’re swinging over to their side!

Pearl: I-I’m sorry, Mystic Maya! You’re right! We should keep holding the fort for Mr. Nick!

Maya: Yeah, that’s the spirit!

Kay: Eh, but I think we’ve pretty much won once I brought in Little Thief.

Maya: What makes you think that?

Kay: ‘Cause it’s just a tool to help solving crimes easier, but Mr. Edgeworth doesn’t need it most of the time.

Ema: Though I don’t like to admit it, same goes for my help. He still has the police’s forensics team to fall back on in case I’m not around.

Maya: Hey… doesn’t that just make Mr. Edgeworth have a lot more “cheats”?

Ema: But are they really cheats when the defense has to use them too? The scientific investigation, I mean.

Maya: Um… I guess not. But there’s still Little Thief!

Kay: And as I was saying, it’s just a tool for planning. I use it for my next ventures, but it works just fine as crime-solving assistance! That’s all there is to it.

Maya: …

Pearl: Um, Mystic Maya?

Maya: …You know, Pearly, I think they have a point.

Pearl: W-what!? But what about keeping the fort!?

Maya: I know, but… Mr. Edgeworth can have all sorts of assistance at his disposal, but it doesn’t mean he needs them. And Nick doesn’t, but he has to rely on someone helping him work things out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a moment when Mr. Edgeworth can’t figure out how a crime goes when he’s on the case. Just moments where we confuse him for a bit, and usually it happens because of an accidental discovery.

Kay: …Well, if I’m going to be fair, I have.

Maya: You have!? When?

Kay: Plenty of times, actually. We can meet with some pretty bad situations where we just can’t find the evidence or people don’t talk, no matter how hard we try to convince them. But we still barely pull through when the culprits slip up and reveal something quite important!

Maya: Huh… sounds a lot like how it is for us in court.

Ema: Thinking about it, a lot of the investigations Mr. Edgeworth leads feels kinda like we’re in court anyway.

Kay: Especially when we have to face off against other prosecutors, an Interpol agent, and even a judge!

Maya: Oh, you mean Judge Courtney? I’ve heard… but who’s this “Interpol agent”?

Kay: His name’s Lang, I think. He’s from Zheng Fa.

Maya: Zheng Fa? Where is that again?

Kay: Who knows? It’s somewhere in Far East Asia. He’s a pretty cool guy, but he has this weird obsession with wolves.

Maya: Wolves? Why wolves?

Kay: I dunno. He kinda reminds me of one with that hairstyle though! …Now that I think about it, it’s pretty spiky like Mr. Wright’s, but not that spiky. More like ruffly, like fur.

Maya: Well, I doubt anyone who have their hair as spiky as Nick’s. It’s like he has feathers on his head!

Pearl: Oh, wow. I never thought about it, but now I don’t think I’ll be able to not see it.

[And as the conversation goes on, it’s as if their “informed debate” fizzes out of existence, and no conclusion is reached.]

–

Maya: W-wait!

What?

Maya: Come on! That’s a disappointing end! I thought Pearly and I were gonna pull a turnabout somehow!

Hmm… but lately, all I’ve been writing about are arguments. I’m tired.

Kay: Come on! You’ve had plenty of rest between your writing!

But…

Ema: It’s just a little more! Give us some closure, at least!

Fine… Let’s just say Edgeworth is the superior overall because he has less derp moments. Not that he doesn’t, but it’s on a lesser scale.

All: …

Ema: Yeah, that sounds about right.

Kay: I’m down with that.

Maya: Objection! That’s not fair! Don’t just jump to the conclusion yourself!

Pearl: And that’s a silly reason!

I’m the Mod of a silly blog. I am obligated to take the silly route in all situations!

Maya, Pearl: ...

Maya: I’m starting to think the one who’s impossible to argue with is the Mod.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (46/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous Chapters conveniently available here

[17 May 236 Before Age.  Extraliga]

"You want to go after her?  Are you insane!?"

"You're way out of line, kid!"

On the bridge of Luffa's star-yacht, her companions were having an argument.  They were Dorluns, of a culture that valued survival above all, and they had been separated from the rest of their kind.  This and their ties to Luffa had made them very close, almost like sisters, but that didn't mean they always agreed.  

The younger of the two, Keda, had assumed a role as Luffa's business assistant.  She managed the Saiyan's finances, kept the ship running smoothly, and did whatever odd jobs needed doing.   Most of this could be accomplished from the yacht's spacious bridge, and so Keda had converted it into her own private quarters.   Off to one side of the deck she had a sleeping bag and a footlocker, and various personal effects laying around them.  Ironically, there were far more comfortable cabins on the ship--it had originally been a luxury pleasure craft after all--but Keda wasn't interested in comfort.  For her, the bridge was the best place to be on the ship, since she could respond to almost any situation from that location.  

Her only real regret about working for Luffa was that it made for a somewhat lonely existence.  Luffa was a good friend, but a strange one, and not always sociable.  The Saiyan would get into one of her moods and keep to herself, sometimes for days.  Keda tried to keep a respectful distance, but she had long wished for more relateable company.  When Zatte showed up, it seemed like a dream come true.  

It had been a miracle of sorts.  Zatte was supposed to have been killed while defending the Dorlun colony from an alien invasion.  But Dorluns were hard to kill, and after two years, she turned up alive and well, though she had lost her right eye in the battle.  Best of all, she had agreed to live with them on the ship, but it had all been a trick.  Zatte had actually been enchanted by a race of demonic creatures the whole time.  Luffa had managed to free Zatte from their power, but Keda found it difficult to believe everything was back to normal.  

"Zatte, we're safe here!" Keda said.  "If we follow Luffa to Planet Wist, who knows what we might run into!"

"What, so we just abandon her?" Zatte asked.  She was about twice Keda's age, and normally that would have settled the dispute then and there.  The Dorluns respected their elders, after all, since an elder was someone who had managed to stay alive longer.  But Keda had never heard an adult Dorlun talk as recklessly as Zatte.  Besides, living with a Super Saiyan had forced Keda to grow up in a hurry.  She refused to back down from this.

"Luffa told us to stay behind!" Keda shouted.  "She doesn't need our help, dammit!"

"Watch your mouth, Keda," Zatte said.  

"Or what?" Keda shot back.  "Are you gonna fight me?  That seems to be your answer to everything else!"

"She's the xan'nil-Dor!" Zatte insisted.  "We have an obligation as Dorluns to--"

"Don't play that card with me," Keda snapped.  "You keep saying she's a xan'nil-Dor, but I don't buy it!  You're just looking for an excuse to go charging into battle again."

"You of all people should understand what I'm trying to do!" Zatte said.  "You've been providing support for Luffa's work for years now!"

Keda threw up her hands.  "Because it's my job!" she shouted.  "Luffa pays me for this.  She lets me live on her ship for free and she lets me use the subspace radio to try to find other Dorluns.  And if we run into any trouble at all, she takes care of it.  She's the strongest person in the universe, and she pays me to live under her protection!"

Zatte turned up her nose.  "Is that all she is to you?" she asked.  "Just a resource to exploit?"

"Of course not," Keda said.  "But I'm not trying to turn her into some kind of religious symbol to justify bad decisions like you are!   You want to risk your neck, and you're using her as an excuse!"

"I said watch your mouth, kid!" Zatte yelled.  Among the Dorluns, 'risk' was not a word to be used lightly.  

"Oh, so it's bad for me to say it, but it's okay for you to do it?" Keda scoffed.  "What did those Makyans do to you, Zatte?"

Her good eye narrowed as she looked down at Keda.  "They showed me that there's a lot of evil in the universe," she said grimly.  "And that we can't just hide under our beds and hope someone else will fix it for us."

They stared at each other wordlessly, and and then the door to the lift opened.   Dr. Topsas stepped onto the deck.  In three of his arachnoid limbs he held mugs.  

"Ladies," he said pleasantly.  "I couldn't get to sleep, so I went to the galley to make some tea.  Would you care for some?"

"Not right now, doctor," Zatte said in a low voice.

"Thanks, but no," Keda said.  

"Hmm, more for myself, I suppose," Topsas said.  "Ms. Zatte, I should like to look at your arm once more in the morning."

"It's fine, doctor."

"Indeed, but I have little experience in treating Dorlun patients, and my old exophysiology professor always warned me to be thorough.  You mammals have so few arms as it is.  You'll forgive me for being overcautious."

"Of course," Zatte said.  "First thing tomorrow."

He turned and left the way he came in, and the two of them continued staring at each other.  

"You don't trust me because of what the Makyans did to me," Zatte said.  "Is that it?  You still think I'm under the influence of the Black Water Mist."

"Well, you stopped wearing that weird costume," Keda said, "but you haven't done anything about your hair."

The Dorluns all wore their red hair long, just in case they needed to use some of it for kindling to start a fire in an inhospitable situation.  It was one of their oldest customs, dating back to the dawn of Dorlun civilization.  Keda had hers tied up in a bun for convenience.  Zatte had most of hers cut off at the whim of her former masters.  She had been sporting an undercut bob ever since.  Her bangs hung down just above her eyebrows, and the rest of her hair barely covered her ears.  It was a stylish look, but not very Dorlun at all.  

"I happen to like my hair this way," Zatte said.  "It's a lot easier to wear my eyepatch, for starters."

"I hadn't thought of that," Keda said rubbing the tip of her chin.  

"You know I infected Luffa with the Mist, right?" Zatte added.  "You still trust her, don't you?"

"Yeah, but..."

"She cured herself," Zatte said.  "I don't understand it all, but she managed to break free and then she did something in my mind, and the next thing I knew we were all back to normal."

"All?" Keda asked.

"They had a lot of agents out there, kid," Zatte said.  She walked over to the main viewscreen and looked at the display of the night sky outside.  "I know because one of the jobs they made me do was to keep tabs on them.  There was this order of monks on this one planet.  We had three of them infected with the Mist.  No one in the monastery knew, but every night they went out and held these arcane rituals to summon evil spirits.  Blood sacrifices, the works.  Every so often they'd send me a progress report.   There was another planet where we had one woman killing random strangers on a regular basis.  Just, picked an innocent person and slashed their throat.  She'd send me a list of names.  Another guy was the prime minister of his planet."

"What did he do?" Keda asked.  

Zatte shrugged.  "I have no idea.  His orders were to sit tight and wait for the 'right moment', whatever that was.  At the time, I used to look forward to it.  I used to look at a big map of the galaxy and look at all the red dots that represented our agents, and I'd imagine it was a plague spreading through all of creation.  No one even knew about it, and even if they did, no one could stop it.  And what I liked the most was that I was a part of it."

She clenched her fists as she looked at the star-field.  "Luffa... she was as much a part of that plague as I was, but she took that power and tore it down in a matter of days!  Days!  She eradicated the Black Water Mist like it was nothing, and all it did was make her hungry!  Later, she apologized for not doing it sooner!"

She turned and faced Keda.  "That was when I realized she was xan'nil-Dor, Keda.  The 'why we survive'.  She's part of the higher cause all Dorluns live for.  For the good of the universe, we have to help her."

"It's not your call to make," Keda said.  "You can't just decide your alien girlfriend's a xan'nil-Dor for crying out loud.  I'm only twelve and I know that much.  You need--"

"I know!" Zatte said.  "I should take it to a council of elders, present a formal argument, and let them decide whether my claim is legitimate.  And it's not like we're talking about a planet, or a scientific mission.  Whenever the xan'nil-Dor is a person they'd want an in-person interview, and that would go over so well with her."

"She hates that kind of talk," Keda said.  "Lots of people already think she's some kind of angel or demigoddess, or a cosmic entity.  It ticks her off."

"Keda, it doesn't matter whether she likes it or not.  It doesn't matter that there are no other Dorluns I can take this to.  I know what I saw."  Zatte paced around aimlessly for a moment, then dropped into one of the chairs at the forward stations.  "Do you think I want to wander into a battlefield on a planet I've never seen before?   I have to do this.  She's a xan'nil-Dor, and if I don't go help her then my life isn't worth much at all."

"Help her?!" Keda asked.  "She's a Super Saiyan, Zatte.  She's invincible!"

"That's their legend, kid," Zatte said.  "You remember ours, don't you?  The immortal Dorlun?  And what happened to him?"

Keda rolled her eyes.  "Come on..."

"What happened to him, Keda?  You know the story."

She threw back her head and made a weary sigh. "Ugh.  He fell down a well and he's still there to this day," she said.  

"Safe and sound, for all the good it does him," Zatte said.  "Maybe she really is invincible, but that doesn't mean she couldn't use a hand once in a while.  You saved her once, from what I hear."  

"That was..." Keda shook her head and started waving her hands.  "That's not how it happened.   I needed her help just as much--"

"She really looks up to you, you know," Zatte said.  

"Oh, now you're just teasing me," Keda said.  

"It's true," Zatte said with a smile.  "She doesn't like to talk about it because she's embarrassed that she needed help from a little kid.  But I think she wishes she could have been in your shoes, helping someone much, much stronger face impossible odds."

"Well, I'd rather be the invincible one on the team," Keda said.   "So I guess we're even."

"Look, Keda, you don't have to come along.  You can go with the doctor and see him back home like Luffa wanted.  I understand why you'd want to honor her request," Zatte said.  She swung the chair around to face the computer terminal and began typing in course commands.  "But I need the ship.  I'll take it through the wormhole to Wist, but I'll probably have to bring it back the long way.  Luffa wouldn't want to expose the fairies who live in the wormhole to her energy."

"I won't let you do that, Zatte," Keda said firmly.  

She paused and looked up at the girl.  "Won't let me?" Zatte asked.

"You want to put yourself in harm's way, all on some vague hunch," Keda said.  "Maybe it makes perfect sense to you, but you're the only other Dorlun I've found so far, and I need you.  Luffa might enjoy having you join her in battle, but she told you to stay here, and she's the boss."

Zatte swung the chair around and listed to one side as she listened to Keda.  "The boss, huh?"

"This is her ship," Keda said, "and when she's not around, I'm in charge."

"Swell," Zatte said.  She turned back to the station and resumed her work.  

Keda watched her angrily for a moment, then looked up at nothing in particular.  "Computer," she called out.  "Lock out all command functions, voice-authorization: Keda-115-Phi-763."

Zatte ignored this until the displays on her station stopped responding.  Red text appeared on the screen, informing her that her access had been denied.  She looked back to Keda impatiently.

"Kid," she said, "You're really starting to tick me off..."

"I'm serious, Zatte," Keda said.  "You can beat me up if you want, but I won't release navigation to you.  We're going to do what Luffa asked, and that's that."

"I don't want to fight you, Keda," Zatte said.  "If I had access to another ship, I'd use it, but I need--"

Keda crossed her arms.  "I said no."

Zatte put her elbow on the armrest of her chair and rested her head in her palm as she regarded the child.  "I think I see why Luffa appreciates you so much," she said.  "I'm sorry it has to come to this."  

Before Keda could ask what she meant, Zatte put her hand on the computer panel and cleared her throat to speak.  "Computer, execute program Zatte One."

The panel flickered as new displays appeared, and then a line of text appeared which read "Handprint authorization confirmed.  Access granted."

"Wh-what?" Keda gasped.  She ran over to the nearest terminal and tried to undo Zatte's last command, but the computer refused to accept her instructions.  "What the hell did you do?" she asked.

"Language," Zatte muttered.  "I figured your shape-shifting powers might help you imitate my voice, maybe enough to fool the computer, so I added a handprint authorization to go with it.  You might be able to imitate my fingerprints, but not if I use my energy manipulating abilities to modify the image slightly.  Of course, you're probably clever enough to find a way around that too, I guess, but I'm betting it'll take you a while."

Keda started checking every terminal on the bridge, and began pulling her hair out of the bun it was in.  "How...?  When did you do all of this?" she asked furiously.  

"When I first came on board," Zatte said.  "The Makyans sent me here to kidnap Luffa, remember?  My plan worked perfectly, but I hacked the ship's computer just in case you got suspicious and tried to stop me.  I probably would have removed the program eventually, but I never got around to it.  Feels kind of embarrassing to use it now, but what can I do?"

Keda kicked one of the workstations in frustration.  

"I meant what I said," Zatte told her.  "I won't force any of you into this, and I'll go alone if I have to, but I will be going."  She turned from the station and looked at her with an earnest expression.  "I know it's crummy of me to ask, but I wish you'd come along.  You're the only other Dorlun I have, and I need you."

Keda ran her hands over her face and took a few deep breaths.  "I guess I should stay with the ship," she finally said.   "You'd better be right about this, Zatte."

*******

[17 May 236 Before Age.  Planet Wist.]

Normally, it would have been difficult for them to move so freely across the skies of Planet Wist, but with Luffa on the warpath, much of the Shockmaster’s military might was either demolished or otherwise engaged.  Suddenly, the trio of Ensign Liberty, Scotch Woodcock, and Tobiko were very low on the priorities list.  If anyone below even noticed their movements, they did nothing to react.

"Bloody hell," Woodcock grumbled as he looked over the site of a recent battle.  "Bird’s only been here a few hours, right?    Looks like a damn army of Saiyans came through here."

"She’s intense," M’ranga said.  "When I met her before, she was holding back her power.  Even then, all she wanted to do was fight, even if it was just sparring with me.  Well, she’s not holding back anymore, and if we don’t put the Shockmaster down while we have the chance, there may not be a planet left to save!"

They flew in a V formation, with M’ranga in the lead, holding a small copper nugget in front of her like a compass.

"Arrrre you surrrre we’re going the rrrriiight waayyyy?" Tobiko asked.

"If this enchanted stone works like it’s supposed to," M’ranga said, "we should be on the right track.  I’m just worried we won’t make it in time."

"What is this Shockmaster guy anyway?" Woodcock asked Tobiko.  "Y’said you’re about as old as he is, right?  Two o’ ya were mates back in the day?"

"It’s nooooot thaaaat simmmmple," Tobiko explained.  "Youuuu seeeee--"

He paused for a moment, then raised his hands over his throat and chanted something quite unpronounceable.  When he spoke again, he sounded like a completely different person.

"Ah, much better.  Excuse me, friends," he said.  "I’ve lived alone in the marshes for many long ages.  I’m not used to speaking this much, and I know my normal voice can be... tiresome after a time."

Woodcock stared at him in disbelief, the he reached into the pocket of his leather pants and withdrew a hip flask.  He took a swig and shook his head.  "Wish you’da done that a long time ago..."

"The loquacion spell lasts for but a short time," Tobiko said, "yet it will suffice for me to tell the story."

He cleared his throat and began: "The Ancient Wist once dominated this region of the universe.  Their powers and technology were formidable, and their culture was among the finest in the galaxy.    Order was preserved not through mere soldiers or arms, but by a great council of wise elders.  I was once a member of that august body, before I became the repugnant creature you see today."

"You’re a brave man trying to help his people, Tobiko," M’ranga said.  "I find nothing repugnant about that."

"Erm, yes, well, be that as it may," Tobiko continued, "I did not always look like this.  Before I was condemned to exile, I resembled the people of Wist as they are today.  I was considered quite handsome in my youth, for what it’s worth--"

"You’re fighting for a noble cause," M’ranga insisted.  "That’s the inner beauty that counts, mister."

"You think so...?" Tobiko asked.  "The Elders banished me for speaking out against certain military expansions, and they cursed me to inhabit this amphibian form specifically because it was hideous and unseemly."

"I’ve been to many different planets in my time," M’ranga said.  "And in my experience, there is no absolute standard of attractiveness, save for the quality of a person’s character--"

"Beerus Priest, will ya let him finish the fraggin’ story already?!" Woodcock groaned.

"Sorry," M’ranga said.

"Yes, er, as I was saying," Tobiko said, "the fact of the matter is that the Shockmaster was sealed away long before I was born.  He was one of the great heroes of his age, a staunch defender of the principles my people once cherished.  But like me, he fell out of favor with the Council.  However, his distinguished career earned him clemency.  Instead of being cursed to a long life of isolation, he was placed in a kind of stasis, so that he could be summoned once more if his heroism was ever needed in the future."

"He seems to have an odd definition of heroism," M’ranga said.

"A matter of perspective, I should imagine," Tobiko said.  "I have wandered the marshes of my world for many thousands of years, and yet the Shockmaster’s era was ancient to me when I was a boy.  Times have changed, and mayhap the world he seeks to preserve no longer exists.   Perhaps it never existed at all.  I wonder--"

"There!" M’ranga called out.  She signaled to the others to come to a stop, and she pointed to the ground.

"Found him, eh?" Woodcock asked.  They had traveled to the remote highlands of one of the planet’s northernmost islands.  There was still green vegetation below them, but the harsh winds and rocky outcroppings would support little else beside grass and lichens.

"The faerie stone is enchanted to lead me in the direction of the Shockmaster," M’ranga said.  "And right now it’s tugging me straight down."

Woodcock looked around and tipped the brim of his black hat, revealing his third eye.  "Yeah, I see him now.  There’s a buncha cairns down there.  He’s standin’ in the middle of ’em.  Still can’t sense his power.  Like he dropped dead or something."

"It’s the Reverie," Tobiko said.  "The ancients used an intense meditative state for profound contemplation.  It is said that the greatest adepts could commune with spirits in the hereafter.  But to attain such a state places the body in a sort of paralysis.  He has no awareness of his surroundings, nor can he interact with the physical world."

"That’s why he came here," M’ranga said.  "He knew he’d be vulnerable, so he picked a secluded place far away from anyone who might stumble across him.  He wasn’t expecting us to be able to track him down."

They floated to the ground only a few feet away from the Shockmaster.  As Woodcock had said, he seemed to be standing perfectly still, as though waiting for them to arrive.  Cautiously, they circled around him, half-expecting him to come to life.

"Don’t feel right, kickin’ him when he’s down like this," Woodcock said.  

"I'm not interested in a fair fight," M'ranga said.  "This may be our only chance to defeat him and free this planet, and I'm taking it."  With that, she drew a plasma pistol from her belt and opened fire.  The beams of green energy struck the Shockmaster's massive chest...

...And passed through him, emerging from his back.  

"Tobiko?" M'ranga called warily.  

"Astounding," Tobiko said.  "His mastery of the technique is far greater than I could have imagined.   So deep is his meditation that his material form has left the physical plane altogether."

Woodcock walked up to the Shockmaster and reached out to touch him.  His hand passed through the Shockmaster's body as if it were not even there.  "Like a damn hologram," Woodcock muttered.  He pointed at his third eye.  "Only I can tell the difference, and this here looks like the real thing."

"Now what?" M'ranga asked.  "We can't touch him until he snaps out of this trance, and by then it'll be too late!"

"Do not abandon hope," Tobiko said.  He raised his hands and made strange gestures with his webbed fingers.  "Perhaps a spell of containment may succeed where your weapons will not..."

They watched him for several minutes, though neither Woodcock nor M'ranga understood what he was doing or how he was doing it.  It looked very much like the grotesque sorceror was weaving invisible threads on an imaginary loom.  Just when it seemed he was finished, he circled around to perform a similar series of gestures from a different position.  

"How long's this gonna take, anyhow?" Woodcock asked pointedly.

"My charms must be thorough to contain a being of his might," Tobiko replied.  

"And if he snaps out of it before you're finished?" M'ranga asked.  

"That would be... unfortunate," Tobiko said.  

NEXT: Unfortunately...