#i dont have the energy for anything nice but i want to draw. the curse . it s so dark in here

[kociamieta]

a router is a type of beast. thumbs up

#i dont have the energy for anything nice but i want to draw. the curse . it s so dark in here #my art #robot

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s Daughter (The Teenage Years)

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

warnings:

a/n: this is LONG so please dont let this flop

prompt: y/n is 12-16, takes place from Avengers 1 to Avengers 2

The Early Years (1) The Intense Years (3) The Aftermath (4) Continued (5)

starting out with tony powering stark tower with clean energy:

it was very late, you were supposed to be asleep

“what are you doing up, missy? it’s way past your bedtime”

“it’s my fault, i let her stay up to see her dad’s big achievement” -pepper

just vibing on the couch with absolutely no intention of sleeping anytime soon

you really did take after your dad

“how was the show, sweetheart?”

“uh, cool?”

coulson showing up when he did

you were excited bc you knew he had to be there for superhero stuff

“hi, agent coulson!!”

“hey there, kiddo!

BEGGING to come with your dad

“no. absolutely not. there is absolutely no way im letting you get involved in any of this”

you got involved

but like, not the whole “im a 12 year old superhero” involved

“y/n, sweetie, this is dr. banner, you’re gonna be his assistant in the lab!”

“—what?” *bruce utterly shocked*

talking that man’s ear off oh my GOD

he taught you a few things along the way, though

it ended up being very educational

“yeah i built my own suit! it’s definitely not as cool as my dad’s...and he put a bunch of safety controls on it. obviously, i could bypass them and do whatever i wanted, but it’s best not to break his trust, you know?”

“you are astonishingly wise for a 12 year old”

bruce being kind of scared around you because he thinks he could hurt you

also scared you might hurt yourself on the scepter

CASUALLY talking to the rest of the avengers

“so, you’re stark’s daughter? now i’ve met three generations of starks.” -steve

“oh, wonderful, there’s a smaller one!” -thor

“hey, y/n, it’s good to see you again. still practicing those moves i showed you?” -natasha

listennnn as you got older you started to exert more of your father’s personality traits

you developed his sarcastic and occasionally ill-timed humor...and

YOU WERE COCKY AS FUCK

“i mean, i’m not saying that i’m better than you but i know you’re thinking it”

when the helicarrier was attacked nobody really knew the correct way to protect you

“dad? dad??”

“right here, y/n, come with me”

tony brought your suit for emergency purposes

“you put this on and you stay here, understand?”

oh, another thing you got from him? NOT LISTENING

helping where you could, the first step to becoming a superhero, right?

being really upset when coulson died

but understanding that it was apart of the job

going back to new york for some alien ass kicking and having the whole team check on you every thirty seconds

“y/n, how’s it going?” “stark junior, are you doing okay?” “need any help out there, kid?”

“you guys don’t have to babysit me” “i’m still kickin’ it, thanks”

tony calling right before he went through the wormhole

“hey sweetheart, just gotta let you know that i love you and i am so proud of everything you’ve done”

the avengers holding you back from him when he fell back to the ground because you were unreasonably worried for obvious reasons

“is he breathing? steve? steve, let me see him! JARVIS, are you there?”

falling on the ground and hugging him (with your clunky-ass armor still on)

“hey! yeah, i missed you too”

*clink clink* pat on the back

schwarma stop

“you’re gonna eat it and you’re gonna like it”

having your own input on the stark tower remodel

taking a slight pause for random stuff

you’ve definitely drawn his mustache/goatee on your face before

“please tell me that’s not permanent marker”

“it’s permanent marker”

you and pepper doing mother/daughter things for bonding (but you and her already had a great relationship)

unreasonable amount of cussing from your father has rubbed off onto you and now he doesn’t notice when you say bad words

natasha taught you how to shoot so that was cool

“if i can shoot a repulsor, i think i can shoot a gun”

“whatever you say, baby stark”

obviously the team is just a bunch of protective uncles and an aunt

“i miss [insert avenger here]”

resume to iron man 3

just tinkering in the shop with pops

“are you sure that’s safe, dad?”

“duh, why wouldn’t it be safe?”

you were right and it was not safe

sometimes you proved your dad wrong and it made him happy?

“well would you look at that, you’re right”

learning how to help your dad with his anxiety and panic attacks

the house in malibu got blown up and your dad disappeared

you were benched by pepper effective immediately

“don’t you think it would be better if i were still out there? someone has to be out there and...i don’t know, protect the people?”

“y/n, please, you’re still a kid. i can excuse fighting aliens but i draw the line at terrorism”

“you can excuse fighting aliens??”

pepper sent you to a different house and hired a...babysitter

zip zip zip its AOU time yall remember the beginning of that at the hydra base

*explosion* “oh, shit! didn’t mean to do that...”

“watch your language, y/n!” -cap

“don’t tell my daughter what to do!”

having an external monologue that everyone just kind of rolls with

“glad i put a heater in this suit” “anyone up for burgers?” *humming Eye of the Tiger*

going back to the lab with tony and bruce and being very uncomfortable with the idea of ultron

“okay dad, you know how im usually right?”

“lighten up, kiddo. remember what i taught you about trial and error? this is a learning experience”

*bruce and you side eying*

“i’ll ground you”

“what?!”

“kidding, im kidding”

a lot of kid jokes from other partygoers

“isnt it past your bedtime”

“very funny”

actually dressing up nice for a change, as opposed to an oil-stained band tee

but then ur outfit was ruined because you had to shoot murder bots :(

“not cool! i designed this room!”

tony still got all the blame for ultron while you and bruce went 😬

tony made a joke about ultron being your brother and you didn’t talk to him for hours

“oh, come on! you have to learn to laugh at your mistakes!”

“poor choice of words, stark” -literally everyone

🎶getting to see your worst feaaar🎶

which was a mixture between tony not surviving the wormhole and being abandoned and vulnerable again

your phone got confiscated “because of ultron”

meeting wanda and pietro on better terms

“you are stark’s daughter?”

“um, yeah, that’s me. i sincerely apologize for anything he’s ever done wrong while i’ve been alive”

actually getting along with them (plus you were in a similar age range)

“uncle rhodey!!!”

“staying out of trouble, i hope?”

“define ‘trouble’”

okay okay, enough of that. besides a few robots hitting you and you hitting harder...and ultron taking a couple personal jabs at you after accessing some of your social media accounts...it went back to normal(ish)

you made a friend of wanda and visited the avengers compound weekly and helped with training

and nat gave you some spy pointers to help you if you ever found yourself without the suit

when you left the compound after thor that day, you had some nice father/daughter time

“why don’t i give you a driving lesson, yeah?”

“you’re gonna trust me to drive this thing?”

“sure, why not?”

you drove very fast, wonder where you learned that from

he was clasping onto the seats and whispering curse words

“next time, you can drive with happy”

#tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #iron man #iron man x daughter!reader #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers

[night-rhea]

Fasting Problems with Night and Badeea

Warning: Doodles are made in late night. With no working brain. So they will be very very absurt

Probably not everyone will find it interesting, so its under cut ✨

Night: Finally, here we are. We should have been here like week ago but someone hate their doodle style.

Badeea: While they shouldnt! İts just doodle after all.

Naz: Im that someone. Anyway. I feel like i am the only one who could do this. So. Why i wouldnt. It will be mostly Night and Badeea talking to each other. Maybe some npc character too.

Night: Let me guess. I will symbolize 'bad' ones, and Badeea will symbolize 'good' ones.

Naz: I love how you know me dear.

Night:.......

Badeea:.... At least we are here, right?

Naz: Damn right girl. Shall we start? Lets just explain veeery basically what fasting is. Badeea?

Badeea: Fasting is 'basically' Not eating or drinking anything from sunrise to sunset.

Night: We say basically, because there is more. You are actually training your self control. When you want to eat, you wont. When you want to curse, you wont. When you want to lie, you wont. Aaand list is going like that.

Badeea: So this is we trying to be best person we can be for month!

Naz: İsnt it sounds lovely? Lets see how we are dealing with it.

Night: Most common one... Forgetting youre fasting and just eat or drink something. The moment you realize.... *sighes*

Badeea: But worry not! İf you really forget it, it doesnt break your fast. Just, be more carefull!

Night: ı know there is something else you want to say it. Go ahead...

Badeea:......

Badeea: Pls dont make me 'shower' like that, like, ever....

Night: I said im sorry-

Night: Okay this is very, VERY, very bad one. You just, CANT, do anything makes you sweat much. Because you already have NO ENERGY. AND CANT DRİNK WATER AFTER İT!

Badeea: Yes.. You should really be carefull about what you are doing. We dont want you to fall down from your broom..

Night: Haha not that it happened.

Badeea: .....

Night: ...... Anywayy. You should just, do your other hobbies, which doesnt make you thirsty or hungry. Like-

Badeea: Drawing! Painting! Reading! Writing! There is so much thing you actually can!

Night: She is right. You should wait for after sunset to do these tiring hobbies. Like me.

Badeea: Ah right. You are practising alone in Training Ground after sunset right?

Night: Yep! İts actually so peaceful. While im sad about not being able to practise with team, for a limited time this is really good too.

Badeea: Here, youre seeing two type of person. One, who stays awake until sunrise, eat and goes to bed. And two, who goes bed early, woke up at sunrise and eat, and go back to sleep.

Night: Clearly, second one is better if you need to go class in morning.... But i just cant sleep early in nights! So im jıst staying awake until three am, and then eat, and go to sleep. And im sleeping in lunch break too. Have nothing else to do anyway..

Badeea: Im telling you to not, but you never listen.. İts not healty for you. But i guess its your own system..

Night: I love you more when you dont force me to do something.

Naz: I would say something too, but since im writing this in three am with very sleepy head, i feel like i shouldnt.

Badeea: :)

Night: For next one, we dont need a doodle. Here. İ will show you myself. Lets pretend Badeea is someone who just, pushed me into dirt.

Badeea: Oh my...

Night: i would be very angry right? Like *inhales* "WHAT THE FU- WHAT THE HE- WHAT ARE YOU DOİNG? WHY DİD YOU FUC- UGH WHY DİD YOU PUSHED ME? COME BACK HERE YOU LİTTLE- UUUUGHH!!

Naz: ......

Badeea: .....

Badeea: This one is not being able to curse... And im imagining its something, uhm, hard for Night..

Night: Of course its hard! You are trying to not say even basic ones. Yeah being not rude is rather easier but not saying things that you normally say without thinking, yeah its hard.

Naz: .... Thats it for tonight i guess. I might do second part, or "how to treat ones who fasting" part but whoooo knoooows. Im really, really too sleepy to know. I hope i wont regret when im normal XD If you have some, questions?? You can send it to me and i let Night and Badeea answer ✨ Have a nice day! Or night!

#Fasting Problems #badeea ali #hphm badeea #night rhea #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #jacobs sibling #harry potter #hphm jacobs sibling

[melloian]

Character Bio 10

Alexandre Colbert 

Age: 26 at death 

Gender: M

Race: French Species:  Human (formerly), Zombie (currently)

Alignment: Bad

Status: Dead

Occupation: Ice cream vendor, Supervillain 

Love interest: none 

Friends:  Joanne, Andre (vendor), Zombizou 

Enemies: Miraculous heroes, comedy...

Personality: Irritable, complaintive, envious, Loquacious, Competitive, Obedient, overdramatic, Vindictive, Sanctimonious

Bio: Alexandre is a zombie who pretty much spends they life on being a villain. At day, he pretty much disguise himself as a human and be vendor. However in the afternoon, he usually himself. He pretty much known to insult everyone and complain about anything. He can also be easily irritated. He pretty much goes by the name, Ha-endor. 

He sometimes act nice, but he claims its boring to act nice. 

As a villain: He have some type of grudge against comedy. He wants to complete remove its existence.

Backstory:

Alexandre was just a normal vendor who was working at a festival whose sells ice cream. Announcement went on about some one coming on stage. He took this time as a break and went over there. The people announced a comedian to come on stage. At this time, Alexandre loved jokes. The comedian soon introduced himself and started with his jokes. However his jokes was horrible, but Alexandre laughed at each one. Soon Alexandre ended up choking and coughing and eventually his body collapsed causing everyone to freak out. The announcer soon called the hospital. Ambulance soon came and rushed him to the hospital. But as soon they put him on a ventilator, he was already dead. Later, people announced his death, and soon started his funeral. After the funeral and putting him a gravesite, soon a necromancer came near. The necromancer soon revive him as a zombie. However, it was error that caused him to look different. As soon as he was revived, he instantly choked the necromancer. Necromancer push his arms out the way. Alexandre wanted to know why he revived him, but the necromancer didn’t answer and just soon left. Instead of yelling at necromancer for an answer, he thinks that he revived him for a 2nd chance. So he used this chance to go against comedy because how he die from it. So he later called himself Ha-endor.

Power

Whenever he laughs, people starts to uncontrollable laugh around him.

When people show any laughing emotion, he able to drain them and gather their happy soul. Which he can consume. Once he do so, the person falls unconscious, drained.

Soon or later, he was able to drain any time of happy emotion.

He can freeze people with his mouth.

He can make icy mist with his finger. He can use this power to make an area cold or change the weather to cold (he only used this on stomera changing the weather (stormy weather)).

However if he change the weather, he ends up dying temporarily. 

Ice blaster 9000 - He built this since he cant turn people fully to ice, so this blaster makes a person into ice crystal.

He can make bomb balloons.

Weakness: If he keeps laughing, he ends up choking and his heart stops (his heart stills works in his undead form but its very weak.) In result spiting out blood.

(I recommend you skipping these akumantized forms)

Phobia Circus (akumantized form)

Altered personality: stubborn, Bizarre, Boisterous, Imprudent

cause of akumanzation: guard at the theme park wouldn’t like him to enter because he would’ve scared the children which angered him. 

Goal: He wants to show him what’s true fear is like

Akumantized object: Balloon

abilities:  

Because of his size, he able to smash anything with his body. (first form)

He uses his mouth as a portal to enter his “fear circus” world.

Inside there, he able to create anyone’s true fear. He can also create rides and games about the person’s fear or for tormenting the person.

He can stretch his body in strange ways and pretty much flexible.

He uses a hammer to smash things far away (first form)

He pretty stiff 

Weakness: since his 1st form is made out of balloon, there’s a hole to unplug it. 

If the person show no fear, he becomes weakened.

Gaganai (akumanzatied form)

Altered personality: selfish, immature, Impatient, mischief, Deceitful, irresponsible

He pretty much acts like a toddler and have a brain of a toddler now (and the size of a toddler). However, he still have parts of his adult mind. He pretty much fumble with his words, so its sorta hard to understand him.

cause of akumanzation: Joanne didn’t appreciate his work and started yelling him for doing a sloppy job for helping with the creche. So Joanne didn’t want anymore help from him, causing him to get really angry and complaint about everything.

Goal: get revenge on Joanne 

Akumantized object: pacifier 

abilities:  

With his lollipop, he can age down people to the point they turn into dust. He can do the same by making them age up instead. The more he holds the lollipop towards the person, it will rapidly de-age or age them. 

He can also make people dazed if he smack them awhile the lollipop energy is on. 

Weakness:

If he uses too much energy, the lollipop will stop working. The only way to recharge the lollipop is to suck on the lollipop.

Since he post to be toddler, he very fragile. 

He can run fast, however, he can trip easily causing to hurt himself.

He can be easily distracted by toys. He will attempt to resist it because of it.

Relationships (main ones):

Ha-endor & Zombizou

Ha-endor meet Zombizou near the graveyard. They become friends later. He pretty much annoyed about her “love”  comments. He hates the fact she calls him plummie. However, he pretty much enjoy her as a friend.

Alexandre & Joanne

Alexandre met Joanne when he was alive. They used to chat alot and hang out with each other. When he off work, he usually visit her. She always wanted to work in the hobby he likes doing, but he refuses because he thinks its embarrassing. The last thing he told to Joanne was him being happy to work at the festival before he died. 

Meeting him again

When he die, Joanne was upset. She started to miss him being around. Alexandre wanted to visited one last time, however Joanne was scared of him. He told her who he was and then Joanne stopped. She started crying and hugged him soon after.

Onwards

Alexandre and Joanne still get along as before, however not much. Alexandre dislikes how she can get angry fast recently and soon apologize afterwards. 

Later, he realized Joanne had a crush on him this entire time.

Ha-endor & Gabriel

Even though Ha-endor don’t work at Daroness, He knows Gabriel. He dislikes him and thinks he the worst thing that ever happened. He also hate how he can’t talk to others in his tower.

Full body

Ghost form

Before he die

Other information:

He can exit his body if he wanted too.

His death became popular for some reason.

He is one of the villains who can’t remember their akumantized forms. Other being mime and Nathalie. 

Even though he doesn’t show sympathy, he sometimes cares for others. But he hides that. 

He had many hobbies such as designing outfits, cosplaying, drawing, acting  and baking. But he claims its embarrassing to tell anyone this. However he uses these hobbies for making disguises.

He can sometimes tell when some one is acting or lying.

He have a curse where he will uncontrollably laugh at random. He claims that he trying to prevent himself from doing this but its too strong.

He become a ice cream vendor because he loved ice cream way too much.

He carries a emery board on his pocket. He usually use it just to irritate people awhile using it on his nails.

He is post to play as a comedic relief character but will still have serious moment though.

GUYS AM SORRY FOR THE CRINGE I DONT HAVE A FETISH I SWEAR. TRUST ME, WHEN I MAKE THE COMICS IS NOT GOING BE CRINGE.

To involve this cringey post just please go here for information about zombies.

However at the same time i posted this to wait for psychomedian episode will come out any time soon. 

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #ml #zombizou #miraculous oc #am sorry for cringe ;-; #i hope this post gets ignored asap #miraculous ladybug reboot #ml reboot

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Having Kittens Fanfic

Title: Having Kittens

Summary: Apathy really should be worried about the kitten that spontaneously appeared in his bedroom. But then again, Apathy doesn’t worry. It’s not really his thing. If he does nothing surely the kitten will go away on its own, right?

Word-Count: 2058

Warnings: Food Mention, feeding animals junk food (psa dont be like apathy), Slight body horror (by that I mean the kitten is basically a Flerken), remus & deceit mention, please lmk if there’s anything else!

This is for @fanartfunart! Apathy is their Sander Sides OC that I love very much and you should too! Find out more about him here :)

-

For some inexplicable reason, there was a kitten in Apathy’s room. A round, chubby thing. Its fur all bright red with green tabby stripes. If Apathy cared enough, he might’ve found that disconcerting. Cats weren’t supposed to be that color, were they? But then again, he didn’t care that the kitten was in the room in the first place. 

Apathy didn’t care about a lot of things. Caring took time and energy--things Apathy lacked in large quantities. He had to ration them out, investing care in very little things. For example, he cared deeply about sleep. He found it’s siren call alluring. Sleep was always better than being awake. Nothing mattered when you were asleep. 

Case in point, the kitten. It’d been on top of his dresser when he first awoke. Now somehow it teleported halfway across the room. It clawed at his pants leg, squeaking.

A tiny “Why?” almost escaped his lips, but he shut his mouth. Words were also a scarcity to Apathy. He couldn’t waste them needlessly. Especially to a non-sentient creature. Instead he let out an inaudible sigh and turned his back to the kitten.

A small thing like that wasn’t a threat to him. Therefore, it was needless to do anything about it. So he ignored it. Taking the path of least resistance was Apathy’s middle name.

The kitten, unfortunately, didn’t ignore him. Apparently, it decided Apathy made for a great jungle gym. It’s little paws scampered across his back, tiny claws clinching the fabric of his shirt. It tumbled off of him as it reached the other side of him. Still Apathy did not move. He actually took the effort to lay in his bed today. Getting rid of the kitten involved at least sitting up and he did not have the energy for that. 

He opened his eyes just barely to see the kitten approaching his face. Still squeaking, like a rusty shopping cart. The kitten pressed up against his face, its whiskers tickling Apathy. He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. 

The kitten didn’t attack him. Its claws didn’t leave a crescent scar on his cheek. Instead the kitten made a new noise. It reminded Apathy of the storm noisemaker Patton got him for his birthday. A soft, low grumble. It curled up in the crook of his head and shoulder. Apathy laid still, body tense. He did not move, not even to breathe.

That was normal. Apathy often didn’t bother moving, let alone breathing. Too much work for a personified jumbled set of emotions and thoughts. It had nothing to do with not wanting to scare the poor kitten away.

Hours went by. How many, Apathy wasn’t sure. He wasn’t fond of keeping track of time. It was utterly meaningless to him, like everything else. He blinked, and a few scathingly short seconds went by. He blinked again and a whole week passed without his knowing. 

The others constantly worried about time. They squabbled about it, arguing for what they thought was Thomas’ best usage of it. Apathy sat on the sidelines baffled by it. Couldn’t they see that the best option was to not care about anything? To just lay in bed and pretend to be a mummy like Thomas did as a kid?

Regardless, Apathy did not comprehend time well. But he did have enough awareness to know that time had passed. A significant amount. For the sky outside had darkened signaling nighttime in the mindscape. The sides typically did not think very hard on their existence. Apathy couldn’t stop ever thinking about it. 

It was on his mind constantly, the same way it was for Remus and intrusive thoughts. It drove the very core of himself; Apathy. The sides were imaginary, and it could be argued that perhaps so was Thomas. If that was true then nothing mattered. Good or bad, it just didn’t matter in the end. Which was why Apathy woke up on his bedroom floor, and not his bed.

He vaguely remembered tumbling off at some point in his slumber. He thought about getting up. As even he couldn’t deny how soft and nice it was compared to the floor. Yet the floor was where he fell back asleep like he’d done many times past. It wasn’t unusual to be woken up from one of the others tripping on him. A mere annoyance in Apathy’s book, a scuffed up floor-burn in their account. Yet he hadn’t been woken up by a curse from one of the others. 

Rather, a high-pitched wail. A noise not even Apathy could ignore in preference of sleep.

“Shuuut.” Apathy mumbled, pressing his face further into the floor.

Apathy laid there, hoping whatever it was would stop on its own accord. Yet the wailing continued. Apathy almost felt indignant by that. Something small squirmed, tugging at his (inside out and backwards as always) shirt. It took Apathy’s foggy, hazy mind longer than most to realize it was the kitten.

Apathy groaned, propping up his face just enough to stare at the kitten. It stared back, big mismatched green-and-red eyes. 

“What?” He asked, not caring that the kitten couldn’t comprehend him. Apathy pitched a fit at whoever dared interrupt his sleep, kitten or not. Of course, Apathy didn’t exactly get angry. He just grew more stubborn and obstinate if anything.

The kitten wailed again, little claws tugging at his shirt sleeve once more. Apathy winced, drawing back a little. This distressed the kitten more, as it tried clamping its mouth against the t-shirt fabric. It quickly spat it out, coughing a bit.

“Oh.” Apathy breathed out, “You hungry?”

A wail rose up in response. 

He didn’t have to be Logic to take that as a yes. He sat up, eyebrows furrowing a bit. Apathy wanted to sleep. He couldn’t sleep until the kitten stopped crying. It wouldn’t stop crying unless it was fed. He could feed it. Or he could punt the thing out of his room, leaving it to fend for itself. He was Apathy after all. Who was he to worry about a dumb little imaginary kitten?

The second option sounded nicer. It was the easiest option. Feeding the kitten meant stumbling downwards, kitten-in-hand and scouring the pantry until he found something. Then he’d have to go all the way back upstairs and to his room. Whereas punting the kitten involved picking it up, opening his door and throwing it outside. Simple.

Or so he thought. Because as he picked up the kitten, he pictured Patton’s face. Namely, a sad, pouty Patton face. Patton loved cats. Patton would be devastated if Apathy abandoned the kitten. Not that Apathy cared. He didn’t care about Patton’s feelings.

That was the whole point of his existence. Apathy: the absence of feeling, interest or concern. It was his job to make Thomas didn’t care. Because it was safer to not care than to care and get hurt.

He stared a long time at the wiggling kitten in his grasp, contemplating. He almost forgot why until his own stomach growled. Great, he was also hungry. He’d been out of his snack stash for almost a week now. Not that it mattered. Apathy was good at forgetting things like not eating in his conquest to not do anything ever. He’d forget again within a few minutes.

The kitten squeaked again, as if determined not to be forgotten about. Its’ little teeth hooked onto his finger, biting down on it. Apathy didn’t react to the small yet sharp tendrils of pain. The kitten spat it out moments later, crying out louder.

“Okay, okay.” Apathy grumbled, rising to his feet at last. Little black spots scattered across his vision but he ignored them for the sake of stepping forward. He cradled the kitten close to his chest with one arm as he opened the door. 

This was it. Here was his chance to get rid of the pest that somehow infiltrated his bedroom. Except he didn’t. He held onto the kitten as he trudged all the way downstairs. It had nothing to do with upsetting Patton or his own remorse. He didn’t care about those things. He cared about three things: sleep, hunger and doing absolutely nothing. His hunger was the only thing driving him downstairs.

As he reached the kitchen, he placed the kitten onto the countertops. The kitten set off to exploring at last, mewling all the way. Apathy ignored it, opening the fridge door to stare into its contents. Staring into the bright, white interior of the fridge was one of his favorite pastimes. He often managed to encourage Thomas into doing it, even when he wasn’t hungry.

There wasn’t any lunchables or microwavable meals there today so he shut it. He threw open the cupboards and pulled out a popcorn bag. He was almost tempted to eat it, bag and all, right there. Apathy had little patience when it came to meal prep. But he held back, remembering how disgusting it tasted. He threw it into the microwave and waited.

The kitten crawled towards him, its eyes glowing in the dim light. It didn’t seem able to find food on its own. Which, great, more work for him. He didn’t even know what cats ate. Eh, Popcorn had to be fine, right? Food was food. 

The microwave beeped as the last few kernels popped, like the dying refrains of a fierce battle. He took the popcorn bag and opened it. The sweet buttery smell wafted in the midnight air. He then offered it towards the kitten.

“Here.”

The kitten squeaked, tail flicking in interest. It took one sniff and then green-and-red tentacles burst forth from its mouth. It snatched the bag out of Apathy’s hands and swallowed it whole. Something that should’ve been unrealistically possible given its’ size. Then as quickly as it happened, the tentacles were gone. The kitten sat there, rumbling, as if that nothing abnormal took place.

Most people would probably shriek in terror or grab a kitchen knife in reaction. Not Apathy. He just sighed, rubbing at his eyes with both hands.

“Seriously?” He mumbled, glaring at the kitten, “Not cool.”

Not cool in that now he had to make another bag for himself. The kitten just licked its paw, unbothered. As if it didn’t care about the inconvenience it caused. A small huff escaped Apathy. He could respect that.

Apathy grabbed another popcorn bag and placed it into the microwave. When it finished, he kept a careful eye on the kitten.

“Not yours.” He said, as the kitten mewled petulantly. He opened the bag and shoved a handful into his mouth. The kitten’s big eyes mournfully watched him. Apathy paid no attention as he tore through the popcorn bag. He never really understood the point of savoring a meal. He ate food as fast as possible.

The kitten still sat there, waiting. It already ate a whole bag, the greedy little thing. Apathy rolled his eyes, holding a handful of popcorn to the kitten.

“Glutton.” Apathy said as the kitten engulfed the popcorn kernels with its’ tentacles. He scowled as he wiped his now-slimy hand against his shirt. Gross.

Apathy finished off the rest of the bag. He didn’t even bother to throw it away, instead letting it drop to the floor. With his stomach full, exhaustion hit him full force. He stumbled his way towards the stairway, vision blurry. He made it about halfway before collapsing onto the living room couch. It was just for a moment before continuing his trek upstairs. It was a lie that Deceit could smell from miles away. Even Apathy knew it was one.

He heard a high-pitched noise, looking to see the kitten had followed him. It tried jumping onto the couch but it was too high. It’s claws snagged on the edge as it slowly started falling backwards. Ears flattened, it squeaked loudly in alarm. Apathy sighed before saving it from it’s descent. The kitten made a tiny thunderous noise before lying beside him. It’s soft fur tickled his face once more. Then it fell asleep, faster than even Apathy.

This didn’t perturb him. Instead he closed his eyes, body relaxed. His lips twitched upwards. Apathy didn’t care about a lot of things, cats normally included. But this kitten? Deep down inside, he might actually care a lot.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #apathy OC sanders #kat writes

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (12)

A/N: WE’VE REACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!! KISSES!!!! HELL YEAH—

there are also So many characters in this one y’all im so sorry to do this to you but also Suffer — since they’re not gonna be reoccurring, i’m adding a characters tag so y’all know what you’re getting into. also, i felt a liiiiittle bad with all the angst i was giving, so since chapters 12 and 13 happen simultaneously, y’all are getting the Softs for now :) 

what, angst on the horizon? says who? ;)

Characters: Deceit, Patton, the Playwright, the Artist, the Bard, Sleep (Remy), Dad Guy, Teacher Guy

WARNINGS: bruises and black eyes, references to imprisonment, food/food mention — i dont think there's much in this chapter, but if i missed anything, please let me know!!

Words: 6961

Pairings: i’m so. so proud to announce. welcome to some Roceit, some Royality, a sliver of Moceit, and Dad Guy x Teacher Guy (the best ship, imho)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for some of the series long warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing, both of which are heavily present here!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil​ @forrestwyrm​ @daflangstlairde​ @marshmallow-the-panda​ @askthesnake​ @k9cat​ @patromlogil​

general tag: @jemthebookworm​

enjoy!!!! sorry for the long intro, and ilysm !! <3 <3 <3 

This was very much not Deceit’s forte. He ran his hand through the Bard’s hair for the umpteenth time, shooting Patton a terrified expression. Patton was on the Bard’s other side, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re okay, Roman,” he whispered, again, “You’re okay.”

The trio had been standing in a weird multi-hug for nearly ten minutes, ever since the Thief absconded. Patton figured it’d be safer to stay with Deceit and the Bard; he was more accustomed to seeing Roman cry, sad to say, but it was still only a handful of times. He did know that Deceit was very much not equipped to handle situations like this, though, and, well. He didn’t exactly trust Deceit to not make things worse.

He wasn’t, though, so Patton was pretty happy. The Bard had even finished crying a few minutes ago. That wasn’t the issue. He just refused to let up from where he was pressed into Deceit’s chest, breathing slow and quiet.

It wasn’t like Deceit minded too much. It was a little annoying. Just a little. But it was also comforting. He tried his best to not look at Patton’s little glances, but Deceit knew his face was a little red. He didn’t want to let go of Roman. Not when he was this close, also comforted in his hold.

Despite Deceit’s strategy of letting go of his crush, he was almost falling faster. He pressed his lips to the Bard’s head and flicked his eyes up at Patton when he began talking again.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ve just gotta get goin’ now.”

In all honesty?

The Bard had long since calmed down. He was now drunk on happiness. Yeah, sure, he was still really pissed off at the Thief, he’d ruined his make up, punched him in the face, made the Child cry, generally put a damper on the whole situation, but that was to be a problem for another day. The arms wrapped around his waist, the body he was snuggled into, the hand that was running through his hair, it all made him feel so secure. So loved.

He didn’t think Deceit was much of a physical person, but after this? The Bard would have to remember to go to the snake more often for cuddles.

He closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly.

Patton always smelt like cookies. Chocolate chip cookies and occasionally chai, depending on what he’d baked recently. Sometimes of just sugar.

Deceit smelt a little more just like a person, yeah, but the scent was carefully interlaced with hints of lavender and jasmine. Did Deceit wear cologne or something? Maybe he had a self-care routine. The Bard would also have to remember to have Roman ask Deceit if he wanted to do masks and manicures together.

The could just not follow the Thief. The Bard could invite Patton and Deceit to his home, hidden away amongst the pages of this story they’d written, watch a movie and bundle under some blankets together. He could just take the time and space to be content. He could take in the pleasures of life!

But, alas, it was curtains for those dreams.

“Alright, Padre, I’m good. I’m gucci,” the Bard murmured, “It’s just so nice to be held. King Cobra, honey, were you always this warm. And you’re so lovely, Patt-puff, I could fall asleep right here.”

Patton snorted, catching the briefest glimpse of Deceit’s bright red face. “You can have all the snuggles you want later, kiddo,” he patted the Bard’s chest again, “You just gotta—”

“Wait.”

The change was immediate. The Bard stood upright, pulling his face out of Deceit’s chest and turning his head around. “Someone’s singing.”

Patton and Deceit shared a confused frown. Faintly, they could hear a voice, far, far away, but growing louder.

“For years, I’ve roamed these empty halls~!”

“Yeah,” the Bard tapped Deceit’s back and pulled away, both other Sides letting go finally.

There was still mascara dried around his face, and the eye that’d been punched was swelling and angry red, but the Bard didn’t seem to care. Patton rubbed his arms, missing the warmth and scolding himself internally for wanting something so unrealistic. He nudged Deceit, who was grumbling and stretching his arms, and both looked up.

In the Bard’s hands was the ukulele, forgotten in the earlier argument, and he twirled it before lifting it to his chest. Strumming a few precise chords, he continued the song, like a bird returning a call.

“Why have a ballroom with no balls~!” he twirled in place and sprang toward the sound.

He sure seemed happier now. Patton smiled, watching him perform, and rested one of his hands on his cheek.

Roman was just so full of life, always. It was astounding.

Wait, the Bard was moving. Patton blinked, looking up to find Deceit watching the Bard, mesmerized as well.

….Ah.

So Deceit liked him, too?

That’d complicate things. Deceit and Roman were a little friendlier, and Patton definitely didn’t want to get in the way of anything, if it made them both happy. If there was anything. Of course there was something. Deceit and Roman were both so charming, how couldn’t there be something? That’d be like giving someone chocolate without the flowers on Valentines day!

“Finally they’re opening up the ga~ates~!”

Distantly, they heard someone echo the same line, getting closer. It was the Roman version of echolocation.

Oh. What if Deceit’s story about Roman and the pit was just a cover up for him being in Roman’s room? What if they’d been together?

Patton shook his head. Imagining worries like that was just gonna get his head spun in a tizzy. He chuckled to himself at his pun, though gained no mirth from it, and tugged Deceit’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta follow,” he said.

Deceit blinked, looking at Patton, then back at the Bard, who’d already dance-walked his way halfway down the street. “Ah, of course,” he hurried after the Bard, faster.

He didn’t want Patton to say anything about the staring and, frankly, Patton didn’t want to say anything either. Nor his own disappointment of missing them both.

“There’ll be actual, real-life people~”

The Bard strummed, twisting down a road, and Deceit and Patton followed.

They were probably being led to another Roman, since they could make out his voice as it grew louder. Were there any more Romans, though? Or, well, any new ones.

“It’ll be totally strange!”

The other singer was just behind a corner.

“Wow, am I so ready for this change~!”

“Will you cut it out! It’s bad enough we’re out in public,” the Artist grumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “And now you’re drawing everyone’s attention.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice bothering you?” the Playwright shot back, bumping his hip against the Artist’s as he shouted, “‘Cause for the first time in forever~! There’ll be music, there’ll be light!”

Deceit and Patton blinked, watching the two bicker as they walked closer. Neither of them seemed very scared of the world around them; in fact, both were looking around at the scenery, as though noticing it for the first time. While the Artist was trying to hide, his hood up and everything, the Playwright was walking around with a coat slung over his shoulders and otherwise in the same outfit they’d seen him in the other day.

The Bard had stopped just around the bend, standing in the pathway and bouncing on his feet with an excited grin, as though waiting for them to notice him.

“Uh, yeah, a little. Shut up.”

“I, wh—” the Playwright’s singing screeched to a halt as he glared at the Artist. “How?!”

“Sounds too much like my voice.”

“We are the same person, you dunce, how—wait,” the Playwright looked up and squinted, “Oh, it’s Bard.”

The Bard struck a pose, pointing his ukulele into the sky like a sword. “It sure is! It’s been so long, Playwright, Artist!” he dashed forward, ignoring the Artist’s shouts of “NO” and the Playwright’s confused spluttering as he hugged both with his arms, “I’ve missed you both so dearly!”

He spun in a circle once before pulling away, smoothing their sides down with a hand. He then leaned forward and pecked their cheeks, one after another, shocking them both just enough that neither pointed out his black eye.

This again? It was much too high energy for Deceit, not as he had to study this...what, fifth Roman? Fourth? How many had he met, by now? Jesus, how many were there. He slunk back, behind Patton, letting the moral side do the talking.

“Good to see you again, Playwright! You too, Artist,” Patton smiled at the Artist, who flinched back and tugged the side of his hood.

Patton wasn’t about to bring up the fight from earlier that morning. The Child said, on their way out, that the Artist didn’t have much outside his art. Maybe it wasn’t good for him to be yelling at them, it was definitely upsetting. And Patton was definitely hurt. A little betrayed. A little confused. But that didn’t mean Patton would be angry. He didn’t hold grudges very well.

“Um,” the Artist looked down, twisting his foot against the cobblestone path. He couldn’t, in his right conscious, not apologize immediately. “Yeah. Dad, I just–I’m really sorry about this morning. I over reacted, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you and Logan and Child. I’m, uh, it was dumb. I’m sorry.”

There it was. Out in the open.

The Artist didn’t want his perfection at the expense of love.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he twitched. It felt almost numb, like television static. He looked up to see Patton smiling widely at him, almost beaming. “You’re not dumb for having your own boundaries and caring about what you make. Yeah, it was….” his smile faltered slightly, reminded of how terrified he’d been that the Artist would actually stab them with a palette knife, “I can’t say it’s okay. But thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry Logan and I made you uncomfortable.”

….The Artist really hadn’t expected that. His cheeks tinged with a bit of a blush as he looked down again, still fiddling with his hood.

Patton always knew what to say.

“I don’t wanna just brush over this issue.”

The Artist closed his eyes and exhaled. Patton chuckled to himself, but watched the Artist closer. Um. Maybe he didn’t understand?

Patton didn’t want to actually offend him, not right after that apology.

“Get it? Like a paint br—”

“Patton. Darling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit that our relationship is a,” the Artist opened one eye, a tiny smile growing, “Work in progress.”

The Bard and Patton both hooted, the Bard plucking his ukulele once. “Good one!” Patton patted the Artist’s shoulder, “Thought I was gonna start crying there for a second, but I’m glad that was a pun, too!”

“They’re ridiculous,” the Playwright murmured.

“He’s you,” Deceit gestured to the Artist, then to the Bard. “And so’s he.”

“My cross to bear, I suppose,” the Playwright said with a tired shrug.

They’d both stepped back when the Artist apologized, leaning on a wall and watching the scene. It felt like a personal moment of reflection, in all honesty. And they didn’t have the lack of apprehension that the Bard displayed, listening in and looking between the two.

Deceit exhaled, leaning back. So Patton was bonding with yet another figment. Big whoop. No water off his scales, no sir. He turned his head, lazily looking around

Hang on. Those men were guards.

Alarms blared in his head as he reached over to the Playwright. “Guards,” he hissed.

A quiet tongue click signified that the Playwright saw them. “Patton, Artist, Bard, we need to go,” he moved toward the group.

The Bard looked back, eyes widening as the guards began marching towards them. “Son of Hephaestus.”

The ukulele disappeared from his hands as he grabbed Patton with and the Artist with the other, tugging them along. The street was populated enough, characters and people walking around, but they were parting for the guards like a predator through a school of fish. Where were they supposed to run to? The Bard knew the city well enough, but all of the maneuvers he used to escape danger wouldn’t work with such a long procession. Not to mention that the Playwright and Artist had never been in the town. In an altercation, none of them would stand a chance; all the real fighters had left.

Patton winced. What were they gonna—

“Hey, babes, lookie here!”

“Oh, thank fucking Pollock,” the Artist breathed. “It’s our idiot.”

Patton and Deceit both snapped around, looking forward. There was Thomas. Not. Not Thomas. No, it was one of his characters, wearing a black leather jacket and a messenger bag, holding a half-full Starbucks venti cup with some unknown iced drink within. Somehow, the paper labeling him as “Sleep” was still firmly taped to his chest despite being held up by a single, half-inch piece of scotch tape. But, you know. Big mood.

He waved them forward again from the doorway he was standing in. “C’mon already, we don’t have all day,” Sleep chirped again, waving a little faster.

You know what? Deceit was going to question this one. He’d been through a lot, this past day. Roman wanted to play a medieval theme, but had random modern appliances strewn about? Yeah, he’d accept that. Virgil throttled him? Sure, yeah, that would happen, that was still within the last 24 hours.

But this?

“Hey, Sleepytime Tea,” the Bard hummed, pecking Sleep’s cheek as he ducked past. “Thank you for the rescue!”

Deceit pointed at Sleep. “That. Is. One of our characters.”

Patton grinned, holding his other hand and pulling him along. “Mhm! Child said they’re all around the Imagination. Ooh, I’m excited to meet him!”

Oh, yeah, that was super explanatory! That solved ALL of Deceit’s problems! That made total and complete sense!

“Sleep,” the Playwright greeted, nodding to him as he slipped past.

Deceit was going to go absolutely feral one of these days.

Sleep tilted his sunglasses and grabbed Deceit’s back. “Let’s go, girls, into the lil’ house.”

“Remy,” the Artist murmured, pulling Patton in.

Sleep nodded to him as well, shoving Deceit into the room and closing the door. He threw two locks, then spun around to lean his back against it.

All five of them watched, varying levels of panic on their faces, while Sleep took a long sip of his coffee. They could definitely hear the guards interrogating someone outside, so it wouldn’t be long until they were approached.

“Are we gonna—” the Bard began, only to be silenced by Sleep raising his hand.

He pulled the straw away from his lips and exhaled.

“Oh my God,” Deceit mumbled, “And I thought Roman was dramatic. Holy shit, you’re a character.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Sleep lowered his sunglasses and winked.

He fixed them, raising his drink to behind the group, further into the building. “Alright, lets go. You all, like, super do not want to run into those guys.”

Sleep led the way. The room they’d entered into was a large foyer, to a house but not. He led them down the hall, up some stairs, up some more stairs, and then out into a bridge connecting this building to the next.

The Playwright nudged the Bard, once they were out on the bridge, and pointed silently at his eye.

That was right, the black eye and smudged make up was still clear as day. He couldn’t be having that. The Bard nodded and pressed a hand to his face. The make up vanished, reappearing as though it’d never been smudged with his tears. Carefully, he also pressed onto the bruise, and the skin all sank back in and flattened out into regularity.

It was best to not show his damage. Bad enough that he’d cried in front of the other Sides. He wasn’t about to walk around with an actual wound. It would bruise over regardless, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, but Roman didn’t want them to see him as anything other than, well. That depended on the Roman. The Bard didn’t want them to see him as anything other than beautiful.

Patton and Deceit didn’t notice. That was fine, perfect on all three Romans’ accounts. They followed right behind Sleep, the other three trailing at the rear. They’d already seen most of the Imagination, having been there when it was built (though building and navigating were two different skills); for the other two, everything was starkly new, even Sleep.

The Imagination did have more structure than they’d seen the other day. Arches, bridges, buildings that looked more defined.

Something certainly changed in the world. Maybe it was the same thing that caused the Imagination to have a regular day/night cycle? Deceit pursed his lips and summoned his notebook again, jotting down some notes. A curious world indeed.

Meanwhile, Patton was just getting excited. It was Sleep! He was an older character than, well, Patton! Granted, Patton wasn’t exactly a character, that was more so the length of time he’d been in front of the camera. But he could still remember the day when Roman pitched him — a sassy Sue, dressed to the sassy nines and going out to fun sassy parties while getting no sleep whatsoever. Logan might have thought it was on the nose to just tape a piece of paper to his shirt, but, hey, it worked!

“You’re Sleep, right? It���s really nice to meet you,” Patton said, bounding a little closer.

Sleep glanced back at him with a small smile and waved two fingers, a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Patton. Heard you’re a ball of punny sunshine — that’s the Morali-tea, sis.”

Ah, well, his reputation precedes him. Patton laughed, holding the wall, and Sleep grinned. “That’s a good one!” he covered his mouth and rubbed his cheeks a little, continuing. “Where’re we headed? Ooh, and also, do you….have any other name? Than Sleep?”

“Nah, nowhere in particular,” Sleep waved his hand dismissively, “And kinda? Emile calls me Remy. So does the fandom.”

“I think the fandom coined that one,” Deceit said, “A pleasure as well, Remy.”

Sleep put up a peace sign in greetings. “Yep. If you wanna go by names, then it’s, like, definitely all good to call me Remy,” he shrugged. “Either works. What can ya do.”

What can you do indeed. “Alrighty, Remy, you didn’t answer my first question though! I don’t think we’re just going to nowhere,” Patton picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, that. Right now we’re just walking around until I get the all clear.”

“The all clear,” the Playwright repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” Remy took another sip of his drink and shrugged, “There’s a Starbucks down the hall if you nerds wanna get drinks, too.”

He pointed down a hall and — wait, where in the blazes were they?! Deceit stopped focusing on Remy’s back and looked around.

At the moment, they were in what looked like it could be a church, with stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling, save for the fact that it had no pews and was more like a crossroads. Some people walked past, shuffling around in the sides. Some of them looked like Thomas, actually. Possibly characters from other vines? Not all of them were marked with signs so clear as Remy’s.

It seemed that the Starbucks idea had been shot down, because Remy shrugged and led them to the left. As soon as they turned, though, his phone buzzed.

“You’re in my world now, not your world~ And I’ve got friends on the o—” Remy held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

He held up his drink, stopping the rest of the entourage, and nodded his head. “Mhm. Sounds gucci, I’ll bring these bitches back ‘round. See you in five,” he hung up quick and slid his phone back into his pocket.

Remy pivoted on his heel, facing the group once more with a broad smile. All his dramatics really reminded Patton of Roman, which was making him kind of sad. He missed his energy.

The Bard’s hand nudged Patton’s subtly, and they laced their hands together while Remy began explaining. “That’s the signal, back around this way!”

“Wait, are we walking all the way back?” the Artist asked, anger mounting in his tone, “Remy, you can’t be serious. Can’t we go to Emile’s office or something?”

“Nah, nah, I’m dropping you all off somewhere else. Emile’s got appointments all day today, anyway,” Remy shrugged, “If you wanted to hang with him so bad, you shoulda left your house.”

The Playwright snickered behind a hand, and the Artist elbowed him in the side. “Now, now, no fighting,” Patton said, eager to break up another dispute before it began, “I’m glad you’re out now.”

To that, though, the Artist just pulled his hood tighter around his head and mumbled incoherently. That was okay, it diffused the tension! Better awkward silences and mumblings than any actual physical fighting.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of the Thief punching the Bard. What was that, Roman punching himself? Why would he be so okay with that?

Like, Patton knew. He’d been upset with himself since they met with the Playwright at the very, very, very beginning. He should have known Roman was self-conscious. It wasn’t the best kept secret.

Agh, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it! They were going to get Roman back! It was going to be okay, gosh darned it!

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Come now.”

Deceit carefully touched Patton’s free hand, wrapping his fingers around Patton’s.

The Bard was right, Patton decided right then and there. Deceit was surprisingly warm.

Patton gave his hand a squeeze, turning to him with a smile. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet, just for the two of them.

Deceit, human-side-of-face lightly flushed, returned the smile. But why would Deceit be blushing at him? Patton’s mind trailed off, just as Remy stopped the group yet again.

“Alright, we’re he~ere!” he sang out the word “here,” throwing open a door.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Patton lifted a hand, pointing fingers directly with the man standing in the opposite doorway, holding two pizza boxes and wearing the same blue polo, grey sweater, and khaki pants that he usually donned. The man dropped the pizzas onto the table besides himself and pointed as well.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Deceit groaned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the Bard fist pumped into the air.

Dad Guy smiled first. “I think I need new prescriptions! You’ve got me seeing double!”

A laugh from the kitchen indicated that he wasn’t alone. Patton grinned back, shooting Dad Guy some finger guns. “You can try mine! My prescriptions are Patton-edly perfect!”

“Awh, c’mere kiddo, great to meet you!”

“‘Kiddo?’ Haven’t you felt my shirt? It’s all Dad material right here.”

“The only material you’re gonna need is some new material! Can’t go around reusing old jokes!”

“Well, an old man’s gotta have old jokes! Double the puns and double the Dad!”

Remy patted Deceit’s back and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I’ve gotta dip, gotta meet with some other people around the town. You know, midday naps and all that. Good luck with that,” he gestured to the two dads, who were exchanging one liners back and forth.

Deceit only responded with a glare that begged for mercy.

Remy laughed.

The Playwright walked past Patton and Dad Guy, into where Teacher Guy was sitting at another table, a stack of papers beside him that needed hypothetical grading. There’d been too many people, too much going on in the past day. He needed someone who he could trust to be quiet if needed and, thankfully, Teacher Guy asked much fewer questions than Logan.

The Artist motioned for Deceit to follow him to the other table with the Bard, who was already opening the top-most pizza box and stealing a few slices. The trio actually stole the entire top box and slunk away to another room, just up some stairs, while the other four traded silence and puns. There was a balcony opposite of two doors, presumably bedrooms, and they sat outside on the ground, huddled around the large box of pizza.

It was probably lunch time. They didn’t have Logan to tell them that eating on a schedule was a vital part of setting one’s internal clock, so the only indicator that it was “lunch time” was the tinge of hunger in each of their stomachs.  

“If this hasn’t been a day,” the Artist sighed.

“Oh, definitely. The Thief punched me earlier,” the Bard laughed a little before biting into a slice, talking through the food. “Y’ kn’w, ah d’n’t e’he’ i’.”

Deceit snorted, looking away and laughing into a hand while the Artist reprimanded him. “Oh my God, chew your fucking food.”

The Bard rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. To be honest, I always forget that the Thief’s a violent one.”

“I always remember. Ever since he glared at me ‘first time we formed, I’ve been a little iffy about him,” the Artist waved his third slice in a lazy shrug. “You’re lucky he doesn’t hate your guts.’

“Oh, you’re lucky that absolutely no one hates yours.”

“Really? Thief and Playwright always seem two strokes away from stabbing me.”

“That’s because they don’t understand art. I know they love you! And that’s why WE love each other, remember?” the Bard took a bite out of the Artist’s slice and ignored his offended huffs, “And Deceit! How are you feeling?”

Deceit blinked. He’d been taking in the conversation, trying to dissect the differences between every iteration of Roman.

The Artist and the Bard were an interesting pair. They seemed to be so similar, yet so distinctly different, what with the Artist being an introvert and the Bard more extroverted. The Artist working with physical mediums whereas the Bard performed. But those glaring differences seemed to mask differences in desire, intent — that’s what Deceit had to focus on.

“Hey, Bruce Banner, come back. We miss you,” the Bard patted his knee with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? This has probably been quite the journey, especially with how fast things’ve been happening.”

“Well,” Deceit should indulge the Romans, if only for a little, “It has been. I haven’t spent this much time with….any other. Sides. In a while.”

The Artist nodded sympathetically while the Bard blinked. He tilted his head. “Oh. I thought you and the Dark Sides...? You know? Worked together more.”

Deceit shrugged. He wasn’t revealing anything. “Perhaps we do. In that case, then, it’s the longest I’ve spent with such good company,” he smiled coyly at the Bard.

It took a few seconds, but once the Bard fully interpreted what he said, he flushed almost as bright as his waist sash. He giggled, running his hands through his hair and swaying from side to side.

The Artist beside him also turned red, but just squinted tiredly at Deceit. “C’mon, you don’t have to play us,” he grumbled quietly, “The Prince isn’t here.”

“I know Roman’s not just a prince, he’s much, much more,” Deceit leaned on his hand, resting his chin on it as he watched the Artist.

“Anyone’d know that. He’s an artist. A bard. Playwright, thief, dragon, damsel, child, he’s all of us. But he’s all still a big dumbass,” the Artist ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in frustration, “You don’t have to pretend to love us or anything.”

It was Deceit’s turn to be confused. He frowned, leaning back a little in contemplation. Here he thought he was being obvious. And while staying behind the guise of secrecy benefited him greatly, if it was upsetting Roman this much….“Do you really think everything that I say is insincere?”

“Well….” The Artist looked away, staring down the Bard, who was still a bubbly and flustered mess, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

….That did make a little sense. Deceit scooted closer to the Artist. “May I touch your face?” he asked, voice soft.

The Artist’s eyes flicked back up to him quickly before he looked down at the pizza box. There wasn’t any harm. And….he couldn’t say he didn’t want to be touched more. “Sure.”

Deceit lifted a hand to cup the Artist’s cheek, cradling his head as gently as he could. Unconsciously, the Artist leaned into it, exhaling slow as to not lose his self control.

This was….a dream. It had to be. Because Deceit had wished for this for so long, and he was very used to not getting what he wanted. He just had to keep it together.

“Roman, darling,” to that, even the Bard stopped swaying, listening to what Deceit said, “I can’t say I’m the most honest person, but I can promise you this is no lie.”

With that, he pressed a careful kiss to the Artist’s left temple. The Artist’s eyes went wide as saucers as he realized, with an incredible start, that Deceit. Had just kissed him. Deceit had just kissed him, one of the saddest versions of Roman in this miserable little game.

The Bard covered his mouth with both hands, but even that couldn’t hide his elation.

“Holy fuck.”

He fell backwards, laying on the ground with his arms splayed out. It felt like he….was whole.

The Damsel looked out the small window of his room, squinting into the bright light between the bars.

What had just happened? He reached up to his head and ran his hand slowly through his hair, grazing over his left temple.

It felt like someone had just….

Deceit smiled a tiny bit, watching the two Romans collectively lose their minds. He was adorable when flustered. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he said, trying to force the Artist, force Roman, to understand that he was being truthful.

Even if it was a part of Roman, it still meant the world for Deceit to know that Roman knew. They could write this off later, write it off as some —

Deceit wanted to scream. Hang the fuck on. Oh, holy shit. He’d just admitted it.

He leaned back, trying to keep his movements as slow and deliberate and not-panicked as they were before, but holy shit. He’d just said it. He was in love. It was a round-about statement, series of movements and signals, but of course it was, with him.

He was in love with Roman — was it just Roman? It was a different feeling, but the same feeling across the board. God, Deceit didn’t want to deal with this, not on top of everything he was learning about the Imagination and the other Sides. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his scaled forehead, tugging his hat down just a tiny bit more. At least the Romans didn’t notice his sudden and extreme change in posture.

Their collective stupor was disturbed by a shout from below, and then the Playwright calling them downstairs.

“ARTIST! WE FUCKING FORGOT TO TELL THEM!” he snapped, “GET DOWN HERE, HURRY!”

The Artist swore, clearing his throat and standing up. “We, uh, we need to go downstairs, go ahead,” he motioned for Deceit and the Bard to leave, “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” the Bard picked up the empty pizza box and looped his other arm around Deceit’s, much to the snake’s chagrin. “And we’ll let you tell the others later, okay? We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

That was….kind. Deceit didn’t know how to respond, he’d kind of expected the Bard to excitedly blurt it out at some point. Perhaps he would. Deceit couldn’t trust that.

He nodded, and the Bard grinned. He led the way down the stairs, barreling through the kitchen and setting the box down before entering the main room again.

The Playwright, Patton, Dad Guy, and Teacher Guy were all sitting around in a circle. The second couch was empty, so the Bard pulled Deceit onto it, paying the utmost attention. The Artist just sank into the couch on Deceit’s other side, eyes locked onto some papers on the table. Two of them were open, letters that had been opened and were now folded back into the envelopes they’d come from. Only the letter’s receiver’s name was visible, but that gave quite a bit of backstory by themselves.

Cordial invitation of Dad Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

Cordial invitation of Teacher Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

On the stack’s top was another letter, with a red kiss mark where the stamp would typically go.

Honorable invitation of Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of your welcome to the Imagination.

“Ew, he kissed it,” the Bard bit his lip and looked up, scanning the Playwright’s face. “What is it? I’m guessing it’s from Dragon?”

The Playwright nodded to Patton, and he picked up his invitation and cut it open. Quickly, his eyes scanned it over, and a frown overtook his features. “This’ so weird, a gala? Like a party?”

“That’s my suspicion,” the Playwright said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “We all know, er….”

“Roman’s got a flair for the dramatics,” the Artist continued, voice soft, “Dragon got a lot of that.”

“But not all!” the Bard raised his hands up in Roman’s typical princely pose, grinning cheekily.

The Playwright and the Artist both rolled their eyes. “Yes,” the Playwright said. “It looks as though Dragon is trying to lure us all to the castle.”

“....Gosh,” Patton breathed, setting the invitation down on the table, so everyone could read it.

His hand was shaking a little. He did want to see the Dragon, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the implications of the letter. And a part of him hoped that….it hadn’t been the Dragon who sent it. Maybe the other Romans were wrong. Maybe the Prince, HIS prince, was there.

To Patton,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating your entrance into the Imagination, as well as Logan, Virgil, and Deceit’s. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement, made all the better with your attendance. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

See you soon, my love.

Prince Roman

“Oh, fuck him, he’s just gonna sign it like that? What a lilly-livered jackass!” the Bard’s nose scrunched up.

He leaned back again and turned up his head, repulsed by the Dragon’s blatant arrogance.  And the gall, calling Patton his love! It was like he got all the pride and none of the brains! What the hell! The Bard almost wanted to trade him one bit of self-indulgence.

Oh, he might have to throw some of his own punches, once he came face to face with the Dragon. What a disgrace to the Prince’s memory!

“It’s not somethin’ to celebrate,” Dad Guy said, a small smile on his face. The way his brows pinched definitely betrayed his worry.

Teacher Guy still patted his shoulder and shook his head. “Not the time, Dad.”

“Sorry, you know I goof when I’m nervous.”

“Hang on,” the Artist said, rereading the note, “Playwright and my invitations were different.”

He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out his own invitation, spreading it out on the table.

To Roman ‘Artist’ Sanders,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s entrance into the Imagination. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement — with a very special and very familiar guest. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

Come prepared.

“He’s….so he’s pretending to be Prince,” Deceit bit his tongue. “That has got to be who the guest is, in your invitation.”

He picked up both letters, turning them around to face himself as he turned over the phrasing in his mind. This was almost his area of expertise. The minute changes of word, the different references to the Prince, everything was catered to the recipient of the letter. Probably as a means to get whoever the letter was sent to do go.

Him and Patton both couldn’t hide their disappointment, but….it did make sense, in his world. The Dragon was manipulating them into attending, offering whatever he could.

“I don’t get it,” the Bard said, crossing his arms, “What’s the point of this? A ball? Like, that sounds flipping sweet, but for what?”

The Playwright responded. “My hypothesis is that it’s to get us all in one place. Every one of us figments, and every Side, but I don’t understand why he would—”

“Okay, so he’s gonna kill us on the dance floor,” the Artist said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Why do you think he’s inviting us, then?” Teacher Guy asked, “I mean, we’re probably going? Not much danger for us, and, well….”

“I wanna dance with you,” Dad Guy declared, throwing his arm around Teacher Guy’s shoulders.

Teacher Guy smiled, patting Dad Guy’s shoulder fondly as he turned to the Playwright again with more questions on his tongue. “It’s a free party. Knowing that we’re all Thomas, there’ll probably be pizza. Why do you think he’s throwing it all like a party? And what’s the point of having the costumes?”

“Dramatics?” the Playwright offered, voice weak in confusion. “The Dragon would have to figure out which costumed Thomas-esque people are the Sides, are us, and are, well, characters.”

The Artist exhaled sharply. “This is a long way to go for aesthetics. That can’t be all he wants.”

“Either way, we should go,” Patton said, voice soft, “We….Deceit, we were all talking about this. We’ve gotta talk to the Dragon.”

Deceit looked up from the letters, meeting Patton’s eyes with understanding. He nodded slowly. “I agree. No doubt it’s a trap. Of course, of course it’s a trap,” his brain was working at the speed of light, trying to figure out the smartest passage through this, “But we do need to meet him.”

A beat of silence followed that declaration.

Patton was afraid. They couldn’t not meet the Dragon — he was a part of Roman! And every part was valuable and loved and he needed to hug — but the way that the Artist curled in on himself, the way that the Playwright was squeezing his knees with his fists, the way that the Bard was trying to smile, as though it could cover up all of their fears…. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He was going to talk to the Dragon and give him a scolding. And, if he managed to get through to the Dragon, then it might help the other Romans not be afraid of that part of him. That was what mattered most.

Of course this would be difficult. Deceit would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to risk any more damage to Roman’s psyche. He almost wanted to forget that kiss, that stupid kiss, because now it was dwelling too heavily on his mind for him to focus on the task at hand. This gala, this party that the Dragon was throwing….did he have the Prince? None of the Romans knew where Prince had gone. The way they talked about him made it sound like he was dead.

There was no way he was dead. And there was no way Deceit was going to let any of them get hurt, either.

At least the other Romans weren’t arguing back this time around. Hopefully they’d been convinced of this turn’s necessity.

God, he was so happy he didn’t have to talk in circles around this topic.

“Well, um,” Dad Guy fidgeted with the sleeve of his cardigan, “I don’t know what you all wanna do now. I’ve got cookies in—”

A sharp knock at the door shut him up. They all froze, huddled in their seats and couches. Deceit actually drew one of his daggers, poised to fight if need be. This was poor timing for the guards to have found them.

The door flung open.

There was Remy, glasses slipping down his nose, panting. He fixed his glasses and waved an arm across his body.

“Guys. You’re gonna wanna come with me, pronto,” he pointed at Dad Guy and Teacher Guy, “Emile needs them. You’re good.”

“Awh, but I just made cookies,” Dad Guy said.

“We can bring them the cookies later,” Teacher Guy offered, to which Dad Guy immediately brightened up, clapping.

“You’re right! We’ll bring you cookies later!”

“What happened?” the Playwright asked, fixing his glasses.

Remy usually didn’t run. He liked to take his time, make things easy for himself. What might have caused this sudden conundrum?

“Can’t answer that right now, we’ve gotta get going,” Remy wasn’t even holding a Starbucks cup as he fixed his glasses and motioned to them again, “You really need to see this.”

#chivalry au #my fic #roman #patton #deceit #dad guy #teacher guy #sleep #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #ts fanfic #sanders sides #ts roman #ts patton #ts deceit #thomas sanders #fic #gonna be hoenst i found like 4 typos while i was doing my manual italicizing and i had to keep flicking over to ao3 to edit #aslgkhasdlfksd if you find any more please let me know i reread this like 8 times and ithink my eyes are just used to them at this point #time to WINE STUDYYY #also im . big dad teacher shipper #they're soft #like i know its basically logicality but also its NOT they're VERY DIFFERENT and have a very different vibe #which is that they're both my dads and i love #im also way more pleased with my roman line breaks than i should be alshgdsalkfkasghasdlkf

[ask-vaal-hazak]

Book Muse Reveal! (And short story)

The sirens blared again, the smell of cigarettes and old burnt wood filled the air.

"Officer! Officer!" A young child points to a manticore with a gun held to the back of a salamanders head.

I tell the boy to be quiet and hide, my robe flutters a bit in the wind. I stand up and approach.

"Hey fuck off! This is all his fault! Because he wants to warm the bed with....with this tramp!"

Carefully I raise my right arm showing I don't have a weapon. "Listen lady, just put the gun down alright. We dont wanna do anything, you don't wanna shoot here. Why don't we all just calm down so we can go home alr-" *bang* a bullet misses me by inches hitting the ground next to my foot.

"Listen, back the FUCK OFF!" She snarls.

"Lady....im going to ask you one more time....Put...the gun...down."

She shakes her head with tears, she presses back to the woman's head and forces her face into the dirt "No! Nonononono! I wont...i cant!-" she look back at the rubble behind her.

My chance, I break into a fast spring and remove my robe. She looks as bit too late and sees what I've been hiding. My Left arm.

"W-what, no your HIM! I won't let you touch grralk!"

She was quick but not enough. My Left arm was cursed. A sickly green slime held her by the neck, I shook her violently causing her to kick and drop her weapon.

"I'm sure you know who I am by now....but I'm afraid it dosent help you. According to law and the power given to me by the city's head Succubus and Mayor. I can use order 1272-19.5 or for those who aren't familiar. I being the officer can execute you....on the spot, so long as you've put one person in danger. You shot at me...and threatened this woman."

She desperately claws at my arm so I loosen the grip, just enough for her to gag.

"Y-YOU won't *choke* do it...heh, there's a c-child here and argh- *choke*

I lift her higher until her feet were a good six inches off the ground.

"Lady....you don't know me that well. I gave you a chance, and you blew it. So I'm going to use my full authority, besides.....the 'special rations' I get aren't enough. So.....this is the end of the line for you"

She kicks and gurgles as in my palm I form a large needle and draw it in up to my elbow. The dark red nail sites coiled and ready.

"Sorry, but this is your judgement." Released from the pressure there was a sickening crunch as it entered her body and pierced her spine.

Her movement stopped and her eyes water even more, losing a bit of color. The nail separates to form teeth like growth around the hole in my palm. I start to draw in her blood, magic essense, and flesh. It bubbles and turns into energy which is absorbed and sent into the bone and flesh of the upper part of my arm and shoulder. Pulsing with a dim green as her body shrivels and folds in on its self.

The crowd watching in horror and parents shielding their children eyes or turning them away completely. When all was done I return my arm to normal. It drags on the ground behind me with the palm facing upward. Droplets of it separate here and there, steaming in the ground and eventually evaporate.

The child from earlier walks out and hands me an empty rice sack.

"For me? Ah I see. That must have been scary for you. Don't worry, go on." He tears up and runs to the firey lizard woman crying and hugging her.

"Yeah...must me nice to have that." I nods slightly and take the empty burlap sac.

Another monstrous woman in uniform. A rat? Nah too big maybe a mouse.

Officer "Hey t-thanks for the back up. Umm sorry I couldn't handle it myself offic-"

"Special agent" I corrected her.

Officer "Yeah, anyways umm...youre not wearing a name plate"

"Don't have a name"

Office "W-what?"

"I don't have a name....well not anymore. Most people call me hollow, shell, whatever suits them"

She shakes her head "well I'm Samantha and I'm going to give you a name!"

"Do I look like a lost puppy to you? I don't need a-"

"Let's see..Mort? Nah, umm how about Artie! No that's dumb. I know! Wolfe! Yeah sounds tough, noble."

I shrug "Fine...anyway letss leave. I'll need to report to the nearest command center."

(-end-)

So that's Wolfe, a law enforcement officer with a very unique curse from a witch. If ya wanna know more, just ask.

#oc #officer #cop oc #cursed oc #ya #muse

[homestucky]

i need to have a nonsense rant because i need to say something bcaus its messing with my head (if u read all this u will probabky be like wtf why are u even thinking about that drama queen)

i been working on 4 courseworks over the past couple weeks and its been legit mad ive had two but deadlines the past 3 days and more to come 

also ive been looking for a house for a next year which has been rlly stressful a) because it just is, looking for houses is stressful, and b) because i really wanted to live with someone else and not with some of the people im living with now but i was terrified of upsetting people so that was an ethical dilemma (spoiler alert i just ended up not saying anything so next yr i will be living with my current housemates) 

anyways i tried to delegate responsibility because i was the only person trying to find somewhere for us to live but my housemates were barely doing anything which was annoying

anyways we went to view a house yesterday (which i found :^)) and afterwards one of my housemates who is like a really hard to read guy wouldnt say what he thought of it but eventually he was like yeah its good id happily live there

i told him to tell the truth and say somethng if he didnt like the house but he insisted he did

so i was like cool cool lets go for it

then my other housemate who exhausts me so much was like ‘but what if hes just saying that and he actually does mind’

and i was like well that would be on him wouldnt it because weve given him every opportunity to speak up 

and he was like but i would still feel bad for him if we went for the house and he lived there the whole year and hated it

and i was like yeah but itd be on him

and he was like no but see im an extremely empathetic person. like, its a curse. i cant help it. if people feel bad then it makes me feel bad

and rfor some reason it just made me so angry because like. this is a guy who is completely clueless, obnoxious, self centred and irresponsible. he doesnt know how people are feeling and if he is confronted with people talking about their feelings he responds really badly (weve argued about it before)

so for him to turn around and humblebrag about what a nice person he is just made me so angry like he upsets me and frustrates me so much and he cant even tell most of the time so to say like ‘see it might not bother you but see unlike you i actually have empathy’ it just like really upset me because it was such a lazy use of ‘empathy’ like he never actually has to deal with peoples actual real important emotions because he never makes any decisions and if people mention their feelings he essentially tells them to shut up and im over here doing my best for people and having to draw a line sometimes because i know that if you TRULY are sympathetic to everyone who ever had a bad feeling i really doubt you’d have the energy to worry about one of your housemates not getting their first choice accommodation wise like jesus some people are out here dealing with real problems and youre acting like a martyr bcaus u pretend to be concerned about fake surface level easy problems 

he refuses to take responsibility for anything real or important. ive basically been made ‘group mother’ bcaus of stuff like this which i never even wanted bcaus im so tired. like i do something for the group and hes like lol thanks mum ur so responsible anyways im gonna go get drunk and not answer my phone for 3 days like NO this is not for you!! im not looking after you!!! this is because someone HAS TO !! you can say see im just not that kind of person im irresponsible haha lol but that is a CHOICE and sometimes people ask things of you and sometimes you have to take responsibility and youre there with a doctors note like sorry i cant do anything of use its because of my inherent personality that i cant change

does he think i want to be doing this? making these decisions? does he think that answering peoples messages is something that he inherently, medically, is incapable of? becuase he is making DECISIONS in order to be this way and it makes me ANGRY

he always does this stuff that seems nice on the surface level but it always ALWAYS feels like its for show and it makes me so uncomfortable and i hate it. like when he cleans the house all while insisting he doesnt mind but then makes passive aggressive comments about how much he does for us under his breath for days i hate it

and he does stuff like light a candle for the memorial where a drunk student died last year every time we go past which is nice and all in theory but he always makes a thing of it like we will walk past and he’ll be like OH NO IVE FORGOTTEN MY LIGHTER. *no one responds* I WAS GOING TO LIGHT A CANDLE FOR THE GUY YOU SEE. or running off to i quote ‘feed a homeless guy a churro’ like idk its nice in theory and so i feel crappy being critical of these actions but there is a level of it where im like .. he only puts effort into good, kind ‘empathetic’ things which require little to none actual emotional labour, then acts superior about it like everyone else is a monster

so much of what he does is a front and i guess when its a front he uses to do nice things thats not the end of the world 

he just bothers me so much and i would love to not live with him but i also know that he doesnt know how much e bothers me and that i feel that way and i also know that he secretly is really sensitive (but i dont even think he knows he is) and he just constantly ‘’’’’’’’’mansplains’’’’’’’’’’ and corrects peioples grammar and he makes me so angry jashoferofnondcoamfcerfmperfihfouhqaofuh why do i make myself spend time with people who make me so unhappy 

#personal // sorry #some #caps lock #i feel like a crappy person for this but ukno