one of those days
Fandom: Wayfarer IF
Ship: Cassmel (Cassander x Melchior)
Characters: Cassander Inteus (OC), Melchior Larkspur
Words: 1084
Rating: Gen
Summary: Cassander has a bad mental health day. Fortunately, he doesn't have to face it alone.
Read on AO3
The day drags like nobody’s fucking business. It’s real fun having nothing to do with your time, you know - the half open book stares at me in accusation from the table, half done weave shakes its threads in disappointment. I told myself I’d finish it today, but when I woke up I found that my hands just refused to do it and would’ve rather broken the whole thing apart than finish it. The book could’ve easily met the same fate if I didn’t have enough wherewithal to just step back and declare myself useless for the day.
But cooking needs to be done. It’s not a question of want as much as it is a question of need, after all. We all need to eat. If you don’t eat you starve. And since I don’t particularly like starving, I managed to drag myself to the kitchen and listen to the chop chop of the knife. There are downsides, though, as there usually are. Chop chop is so routine that I could do it blind, so the part of my head that’s not focused on making sure I don’t cut my own fingers off is free to wonder.
And gods do I wonder. I’ve since stopped keeping track of what about, but that’s where I am now.
Theokleia came to mind at some point, unbidden. Maybe after the brief sighting of my face in the window. Maybe after the errant curl of hair fell in my eyes and I had to move it away. She wouldn’t cook, obviously. She has people to cook for her. She has fancy makeup and hairpins and decorative battle knives on her walls. And maybe she’s laughing now, having a grand old time, drinking at a party and whispering in another rich asshole’s ear.
Maybe Aiantes listens too. Does she keep the hairpin he gifted her decades ago, before my very eyes, when all I got was a stern look to shut the fuck up? Maybe she wears it across the hall, and maybe he smiles when he sees it shining in the magic lights. Maybe he even removes it later in the privacy of their bedroom.
Maybe I don’t really wanna think about my parents fucking, exactly. Brain, stop being weird.
“You’re murdering that poor eggplant,” Melchior says out of nowhere. “What has it done to you?”
I turn around and set the knife down. “My parents have sex. In general. In Vestra, too. I know the exact bedroom. Big bed, fancy ass curtains. Roses on the sheets. The mwah mwah sounds. All the good stuff.”
“Your… parents?” Melchior blinks. “Cassander, you have three siblings. It’s highly likely that they do have sex. Assuming nothing’s taking the place of that poor vegetable.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s a really simple thing, too. And my parents are doing it.”
“And here it’s where you lose me,” he says slowly. He has two big books of accounts in his hands and he looks so disheveled it makes me want to mess his hair up even more. “What do…” He sighs. “It’s been that kind of day, no?”
I laugh weakly. “Yeah. My brain's all weird. One thing led to another and here I am, mentally in my parents’ bedroom. Where I wasn’t normally allowed when I was a kid, too, even in non-fucking circumstances.” I look at my feet and wiggle my toes. “I am… I just..”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is kind and gentle and it hits like cold water in a parched throat. He puts the books down and walks over, takes my hand in his and the world feels less loathsome all of a sudden.
“I don’t want to be angry anymore.” There it is. I’m getting better at figuring these things out. What a strange idea, actually understanding what’s behind all the weirdness in my head on a given day. “Don’t think there’s much to talk about. I just– I don’t want to think about my mother. But she comes unbidden sometimes, she’s a fucking weed of a person like that, and I get all– like this. Gods, I’m so shit at saying things.”
“I understand you perfectly well, if that has any merit,” he offers. “You’re not half as bad at saying things as you think you are.”
“You don’t count,” I say. It feels as though a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders, though. “You’re just trying to make me feel better by saying that. It doesn’t count.”
“Is it working, though?” He smiles softly. I bury my head in his shoulder.
“I hate you so much,” I whisper against the fabric of his shirt. He’s still holding my hand. “But seriously now. Were you.. Did you have any plans for.. This exact moment?”
“I was just about to get myself a cup of tea,” he says and kisses the side of my head. His hair tickles my ear. “Do you want me to prevent any more vegetable murder?”
“That’d be great. We gotta eat something and I’m the big bad vegetable murderer, as we both know.”
“Really scary, yes,” he laughs softly. I don’t reply, but I make no movement whatsoever, soaking up the warmth and the ease of his presence. He seems content to stay like this for the time being, oblivious to the life of a whole company of actors around us, and his free hand rests loosely on my waist. “I’m proud of you, though,” he adds after a while. “You were able to identify what was distressing you and asked for help.”
Any joke I might’ve had to those words dies on my tongue, heavy and sordid and venomous. He’s just saying things because I’m obviously not doing good for the most part, but a part of me wants to believe him. I want to be worthy of his pride but I’m not sure if I really am. “Didn’t solve shit, Mel,” I say instead, because that’s easier. Because it comes faster and more naturally. Because it shelters from this oppressive feeling that I might not be such a fuck-up after all. “I’m still as angry as I was before. Being able to say my mother’s a bitch doesn’t change shit.”
“It’s better than it was before,” he hums. “But let us cut those vegetables.” His voice turns small and private and easy. “Honestly, between the two of us, being responsible is very boring sometimes.”
And the world really does feel less loathsome for a while.
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HAPPY (very late 😭) BIRTHDAY INK SANS!!!!
WAUGH I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS PIECE INK BC I SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON IT (despite forgoing lineart in an attempt to make things easier for myself 💀)
Either way, I’m really proud of how it turned out! 😅
Happy belated birthday to the guy who started it all for me! And here’s to all the fandom memories that were and will be made!
(credits and more 👀 under the cut)
Ink and Aster (ZT! Gaster) by @/comyet
Dream by jokublog
Swap/Blue by the community
Cross by @/jakei95 (slight outfit change by me)
Undertop Gaster by @/undertop
…Acrylic??! by @hexcia
and we all know who made Splatter here ;3
Anyways, some silly tidbits about this piece
The different papers don’t represent AUs, but fanart and fanfic that’s been produced by the fandom! The very thing that keeps Ink going!
I snuck in a couple subtle references to a few Ink-centric fics that I hear are pretty good 👀. Look for the initials
There’s a couple classic UT references in here as well, golden flower, save star (behind the text) and a doodle of the human and monster from the intro cutscene!
Also you can probably notice the silly cameo of Acrylic from my friend’s AU, Hexverse!
The final paper Ink is holding, the rainbow heart doodle, sorta represents the idea that art, creativity, the fandom itself is their “soul”, and also it signifies the love we’ve given to this super cool character! <3
If you’ve read this far, tysm for listening to my rambles!
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