Jul 1, 2021
This is all your fault
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This is all your fault
Hardman do you comfort Sparkman when he's lonely?
“…Yes.”
"What I gain I lose" for Swapfell Papyrus? :3
Here ya go ducky! (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
For some reason it turned into angst…??? not sure why, was going to draw him grinning like the little ass he is but when that didn’t turn out how I wanted it this happened instead <: hope ya like it~
For Servants to Dream
The Life of Ritsuka Fujimaru: Part One
Servants don’t dream. This fact remains undisputed even among the most accomplished mages. Instead, Servants experience the dreams of their Masters, learning of their past while their own is shared with the person commanding them.
Books.
As far as the eye can see, books upon books litter shelves and tables in a large room, and just as many cover a polished wooden floor. No windows exist to display the outside world, and the only source of time exists on the wall near the exit, a European-style cuckoo clock that just now sounds the midnight hour.
In spite of the spaciousness of the tome-filled room, only one person inhabits it. A young girl with short black hair and a pretty white dress sits alone at one of the clearer tables, eyes transfixed upon a picture of a young knight wielding a golden sword and doing battle with warriors clad in full armor. Next to her, other books await their turn, the titles clearly visible.
“The Epic of Gilgamesh.” “The Mahabarata.” “The Illiad and the Odyssey.” “The Mythology of Asia.” “The Twelve Caesars.” “The Four Great Cycles of Irish Myth.” “Greek and Roman Myths and Legends.” “Heroes of the Colonial Era.” “Modern Day Legends.”
And that’s just one of the stacks.
As the unique sound of the clock emanates through the room, the young girl leans back to stretch while letting out a tired yawn. Looking around the library for a brief moment, she reaches down and places a small slip of a bookmark in the page she was on before closing the thick tome, the title “Le Morte d’Arthur” displaying on the spine in gold lettering. Removing her glasses briefly to rub her eyes with her small hand, she vacates the large chair and hobbles tiredly toward the door.
“I wonder if they’re home yet...” she murmurs in a soft, squeaky voice as she turns the knob and pulls the door open. Darkness retreats from the frame and reveals stairs leading upward...
“I did not!”
“Did too!”
“You can’t prove it!”
“I saw you take it! You hid it in your desk!”
The young girl balled her small hands into fists as she stood up to a much taller girl. The haze of the dream retreats to reveal rows of desks lined up in front of a blackboard with a podium on a raised platform between them.
The taller girl smirked and folded her arms over her chest. “So what? No one will believe you. I always get what I want, you know.”
“Not this time.” Little Ritsuka pushed her glasses on her nose. “I’m going to go tell Sensei about it when she gets here, so you’d better just give it back right now.”
“Or what?” pushed the tall girl, sneering imperiously down at the smaller one confronting her. “You can’t touch me. I’m a princess. My Daddy said so.”
“Your daddy’s not here,” pointed out Ritsuka, her clenched fists tightening in suppressed rage. “Just me and you--”
“And my friends!” laughed the taller girl, leaning downward and beaming. “You take one step toward me and they’re gonna--”
A loud crack echoes through the classroom as Ritsuka rounded on the haughty young girl, striking her face hard with an open palm out of nowhere. The force of the blow, empowered by the little girl’s rage, caused the taller one to lose her balance and spin around, toppling onto the floor while knocking over a nearby desk.
“H...Hey... Y-You hit me!” The disbelief in the girl’s voice caused her friends to take several steps back, their fearless leader caught off-guard in a moment of true weakness. “I... I didn’t, I w-wa-wasn’t--”
“Give it back.” Ritsuka growled her demand as she took a step forward, the sound of her shoe connecting to tiled floor resounding like a gunshot. “NOW.”
“O-Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” cried the now fallen girl, tears starting to flow down her cheeks. “J-Just don’t hit me again! I won’t do anything like that anymore! I swear!”
“Yeah, well...” Ritsuka huffed and took a step back, though her fists remained clenched. “...See that you don’t. And if you don’t give it back, I’ll do a lot more than just hit you next time. Understand?” The short-haired girl glared at the fallen bully who just nodded rapidly and silently mouthed her ascent.
“Hi! I see you got it back, huh?” Ritsuka approached a girl even smaller than her, smiling as she noticed a cute stuffed bunny in her arms.
“Y...Y-yeah...” The tiny girl held the plush closer to her, looking up at Ritsuka with a slight shiver that made her blink in confusion. “Y-you... got it back for me...?”
“I...” Ritsuka hesitated, looking at the girl with uncertainty. “I did, yeah.. I thought--”
“Y-you shouldn’t have done that...” squeaked the little girl, tears starting to form in her eyes. “...Th-they would have... given it back eventually... th-they always do...”
“But it’s not fair that they treat you like that!” retorted Ritsuka, looking horrified. “You can’t seriously be saying you’re okay with being treated like that?!”
“At l-least they noticed me!” the little girl piped up, frowning at her. “N-now they’ll leave me alone and no one will notice me b-because you had to go and do something s-stupid!”
“Huh...?” Little Ritsuka stared in absolute confusion at the girl’s words. “Why...? Why would you--”
“C-Cuz we can’t all be smart and strong and p-pretty like you!” The little girl stood up and threw the plush rabbit on the ground, glaring at the one who should have been her benefactor. “Leave me alone! I don’t want your help, so just stay away from me! I hate you! I hate you!!”
With that, the smaller girl stormed out of the empty classroom, leaving Ritsuka alone in her stunned silence.
Darkness enshrouded the Fujimaru house, the European-style dwelling seeming more like a museum than a home where people lived. The living room, the dining room, the parlor and den, even the library seemed like something taken directly out of Victorian England. Such a place would be perfect for social gatherings or get-togethers.
A deep bell resounded from a nearby antique grandfather clock, signalling midnight once more. A monthly calendar hung on the wall next to it, several weeks struck out with black marker while displaying the current day, July 30th, circled in red. One of the days before that, the 24th, had been struck out in an unsteady squiggled line, along with the words “Mom and Dad return home.”
Unintelligible sounds emanated from upstairs, cutting through the darkness like a knife. The dream-haze slides through only to display a small girl, alone on her bed, hugging a pillow as tightly as she could and pressing her face against it. Pained sobbing escaped her mouth, muffled by the soft, downy cloth. She looked up, staring at the moon with red, tear-soaked eyes as she gritted her teeth.
With a shudder, she laid back down and threw the bedcovers over her head, a whimper catching in her throat as she struggled unsuccessfully to calm down.
“...H.. Haaa...” She let out a soft hiccup under the covers, her frail voice grating with anguish and overflowing with loneliness as the haze engulfed the shadowed bedroom, the poor young girl’s final words echoing in the space between dreams and reality.
“Happy... b-birthday.... to...... mmmmeeeeeeee.....”
"Beg for it." (Seth x salem)
@thegrimsoldier
“I didn’t think I’d ever have to beg for my life with you, Seth,” he whispered as tears fell down his cheeks. “Why are you doing this? Why?”
Pearls of your choice (original or canon!), 89
89: “I’m not leaving you!”
“Go.”
Yellow Pearl can see--anyone could see, if they were looking--that Blue Pearl wants to go. Anyone can see that that other Pearl, the renegade Pearl, has swept up her imagination. Anyone can see that she wants nothing more than to run, to leave Blue Diamond’s side and learn to fight alongside that Pearl.
It hurts more than it should. But Yellow Pearl refuses to let it show.
“Go,” she says again, more urgently this time. “You’ll never get another chance. If you don’t go now, you’ll be stuck here forever.”
But Blue Pearl shakes her head. Her hands, as always, are clasped in front of her chest. Yellow Pearl wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.
“What are you waiting for?” she hisses. “Nobody’s looking. The Diamonds are occupied. You have to go! I know you want to!”
Blue Pearl grabs her wrist. Yellow Pearl looks at the point of contact, shocked. “What are you doing?”
Blue Pearl tugs, and Yellow Pearl understands. She wrenches her hand back.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going with you! Yellow Diamond needs me.”
Blue Pearl shakes her head again, and points to herself. I need you.
“You don’t need me,” Yellow Pearl says, with more bitterness than she means to. “You’ll have her.”
Her. That renegade Pearl. The one who fights so well--who does what a Pearl was never meant to do.
Blue Pearl just looks at her for a moment, and Yellow Pearl wonders if she’s hurt her feelings. A part of her savagely thinks, Good. The rest of her twists up inside with guilt.
“I’m not going with you,” she says. “I can’t.”
Blue Pearl reaches out her hands slightly. Please.
Yellow Pearl shakes her head and takes a step back. “I’m not going.”
And Blue Pearl points to herself, at Yellow Pearl, and shakes her head. She takes her hand again, and tugs, not actually pulling her along, but making her meaning abundantly clear: I’m not leaving you behind.
Yellow Pearl swallows. The decision is already made, and she knows it, but that doesn’t make this any less difficult.
“Then neither of us is going,” she says flatly.
Blue Pearl drops her hand, and her shoulders droop briefly before she resumes her normal posture. Yellow Pearl turns away.
“You should go,” she mutters. “I know you won’t.”
Blue Pearl, of course, doesn’t say anything. Yellow Pearl waits for a few more seconds before leaving the room. She’s got to go somewhere no one will find her for a while. Not even Blue Pearl.
Oh. I wish you'd write a fic where the Gotham Angels (Steph, Harper and Cass) force Jason into a sleepover.
Here’s the thing though: they thought it would be fun.
Jason is a grump. A snarky, fun loving grump, but a grump none the less. Convincing him into a sleepover would take work. It would take time. It would take planning.
But the kid needs a night out, and after bribing him to teach them a few tricks (Steph and Harper) and to spend some time with his big sis (Cass) they get him. And while he doesn’t plan on sleeping over, 4 in the morning is late, and he’s out like a light.
An hour later, he wakes them up screaming like he’s on fire. Like he’s burning from the inside out. And Cass and Steph know.
Because Cass? She knows that feeling of dirt in her veins, green liquid, contaminating every pore, acid on every cell.
And Steph? She’s lived with Cass for years. She’s heard those nightmares far too often herself.
They get next to Jason. Cass wraps him in a hug, strokes his hair, calls him “little brother” Steph gets a blanket and some food. And Harper, Harper just stares, dumbfounded, at what could make them react so quickly or what could make Jason scream like he was dying.
Like he died.
They won’t tell her anything in the morning.