their gaze averts . kris chews slowly , an immovable dread welling in their chest as they stave off this inevitable confession .

they aren’t entirely sure how familiar carol is with susie — but they are certainly confident that very little gets past the mayor . rumours about the violent new girl have circulated around town ever since her arrival . potential candidates for their mission have undoubtedly been scoured and scrutinised from afar by carol , and new arrivals wouldn’t fly under her radar .

a draconic monster , fighting alongside a knightly human , naive to her role in this budding tragedy . the irony is not lost them .

“ … wasn’t noelle . ” it is somehow both avoidant and well - intentioned , the way that they opt to lead with good news . kris swallows . they lick sugary crumbs from their bitten lips , lips pursing as they instinctively straighten their slouched posture . “ almost was . she wanted , to come . but it was — susie … in the end . that came with me . ”

scarlet eyes glint from behind dark fronds of hair that hang in their face . they gaze at their bag with distant contempt as the mayor fawns over what lurks within . it strains and pushes and presses against the fabric confines of their bag , beating steadily with holy life .

kris begins to elaborate , monotone and mumbly . their fingers reach to pull on the ends of their choppy tresses just a little too sharply as they recount . subconscious harm that demands to be inflicted to keep them grounded and present .

“ susie separated from me and the prince . went ahead and caused … um , trouble , with the pointy - headed kid . but — it was nothing , that i couldn’t , course correct . ” they’re downplaying her capacity to upset the precarious balance at work . kris is careful to stifle their admiration for the girl , their tone deliberately lacking meaningful inflection or any particular emotional charge . “ wouldn’t wear , certain armours … and she didn’t have much interest . in being — a prophesied hero . she wanted , to be . a bad guy . ”

kris covers their mouth , muffling a laugh . they force themself to sober , shameful . their eyes are reminiscent of a guilty dog as they hasten to reassure .

“ … sorry . it went — well . she , um , came around . in the end . the prince is playing his part . the dark world was formed well , and sealing it … wasn’t , an issue . ”

Relieved that Kris is finally eating the way they were raised to (like a mostly functional member of society), Carol removes her hands from the bag just long enough to light another cigarette. She takes a drag, sets it between her teeth, and returns to clutching the temporary “cage” as it begins inching toward the edge of the desk.

“Oh no you don’t,” she mutters softly, amused, just as Kris finally begins.

[“ … wasn’t Noelle. ”]

Carol doesn’t even bother hiding her relief. She sighs and cranes her head back. “Ugh… thank Heaven. Your silence was starting to convince me it was her. She’d never be able to handle it.”

If Noelle had been chosen, so help the Prophecy, Carol would have found a way to hold a blade to its throat and force it to change. But still. Kris still seems uncomfortable about something.

Carol’s brow slowly arches as they begin tugging at their hair. A ritual she’s never been able to stand. It bothered her. She quietly swallows the urge to demand they stop, because she needs to hear the rest of this. And anyway, who is she, of all people, to tell Kris not to hurt themselves when she’s the biggest promoter of their self-harm to date?

“Susie…?” Carol says, her fingers going so still that The Angel begins beating against them as if trying to force them apart. Give it space. “That miscreant?”

She completely dismisses the bit about the pointy headed kid. Irrelevant information. What interests her is that the new girl in town-the one she’s heard about from several parents and the Chief of Police herself-is one of the prophesied Chosen Ones.

And here Carol had been, waiting for her to make one wrong step so she could have her removed from school. Having that thing in the same room as her daughter every day had been giving her heart palpitations.

Now, to top it all off… Kris is covering their mouth. Laughing. As if the girl’s delinquent antics endears them.

“Well, I’m glad things are going smoothly so far, even if that…beast..isn’t our ideal Hero. But.”

The Mayor removes a hand from the bag to take the cigarette from her mouth. She wants what she says next to The Human to be crystal clear. “You remember what I told you before we began this little endeavor of ours, don’t you?”

She leans forward in her chair.

“Do not. Put these fated heroes above what your true goal is. You made a promise. Remember?“

the overpowering smell of her cigarette is making them feel slightly queasy . all the clashing discrepancies of this interaction make mustering answers for carol so hard .

in one breath they are chastised like a child , yet in the next they find themself commanded like a soldier . the mayor cares for them , checks on them … but not solely out of fondness . there is a careful , cold arms’ length in all of this . they understand that , in a twisted way , this is upkeep . akin to taking a whetting stone to the blade that might dull throughout a tedious journey , this grim march to their end — ensuring that they are unwavering .

” of course i do . “ they answer sharply . defensive , despite themself , for all of a fleeting moment . then kris deflates again , apologetic . their fingers curl painfully tighter around handfuls of their mop of hair . ” of course … i remember . “

the office feels so small , suddenly . terribly enclosed . as if the walls are pressing in around them . kris shakes their head , trying to quash the anxiety that flickers and ebbs in the pit of their stomach . the darkness that almost seemed to physically gush from the supply closet this morning … it had been a stark reminder of this ordeal’s finality .

this really will work . the prophecy will come to pass . their own hand in splitting open the earth , concentrating the will they share with carol and dess … toeing the line of utter calamity as they release these geysers of shadow … will be critical . no time for cold feet . kris swallows .

” i know what i promised , and i’m not … afraid . i want this , too — you know i do . so . you don’t have to worry . i’ll , i’ll — take care , of everything . i’ll cage the angel … and i won’t let susie . get in the way . “

kris removes their bag from their shoulder , and dumps it on carol’s desk in dutiful compliance . it is empty save for their thrumming soul , devoid of any trinkets or personal belongings — much like their bedroom at home . their entire life , scraped clean of anything that might clutter the angel’scage . a few stray smears of startlingly scarlet blood stain the soft canvas .

her eagerness is not lost on them ; it makes their expression sour , despite themself . the feeling lurches unpleasantly , makes itself clearly known without the parasite present to stuff such emotional displays down .

kris supposes carol has every reason to feel only warmth for the holy intruder that they trap in their chest on her behalf .

they shouldn’t be so bitter , either … they know . after all — it’s going to absolve them of their guilt from what happened that terrible night . it’s going to allow them dredge dess back to life , fix her terrible fate , offer her back to her grieving family . it’s going to do such wonderful things .

“ … thanks . think it forgets about feeding me . and watering me . ” they offer in flat , monotone explanation , pulling the lunchbox close with the eagerness of a starved animal . it sounds almost funny when they say it out loud . like they’re a neglected tamagotchi of some sort . kris swipes for the sugar cookies urgently , compelled by the sweet food first as always , and snarfs them down within seconds . speaking with their mouth full . “ i meant to eat at home . before , i came . but i lost … i lost , track — of time . ”

they sound short of breath . their sentiments short and clipped , monotone and mumbly , in a very kris - like way . their crimson eyes slant at the sparkling water offered apprehensively … but beggars can’t be choosers . unscrewing the cap , they gulp deeply from the bottle , ignoring the unpleasant taste in favour of finally quenching their day - old thirst .

“ … it’s going okay , though . really . ” which is not to say they are enjoying the experience of harbouring the angel . just that it’s nothing they can’t handle . their burden to shoulder , promised to her . they won’t get cold feet . “ the dark world , in the closet … we got through it . and sealed it . just fine . everything , mostly , went … the way it was s'posed to . ”

As soon as the bag hits the table, Carol wastes no time. She crushes her cigarette out and pulls the bag toward her, eyes shining with an uncharacteristic eagerness, not unlike a child staring down a stack of presents on Christmas Eve.

She doesn’t open it.

Instead, she feels it through the fabric, her fingers tracing the heart shape beneath the brown material. Warm. Pulsating with power.  Your heavenly savior is right there, separated from me by nothing more than a measly layer of humble cloth.

Her thumbs knead slowly at the bag’s surface with reverence. Something red smears across the fabric as she does. Carol glances down briefly, wipes it away without much thought, and continues.

“I don’t even have to see you to know you’re beautiful,” she murmurs under her breath.

Kris is speaking while she says it. She hears them “technically”, but her mind is far too flooded with quiet adoration to really process the words.

What does pull her back to earth is the sound of Kris talking through a mouthful of food.

Carol’s ears flatten against her head. The fur along her arms prickles. Regardless, she holds her tongue. Kris is starving. Under any other circumstance, that would be corrected immediately. And if it were anyone else, it certainly would be. But she has always had a soft spot for this little gremlin. Now she gets to enjoy the consequences of that.

“Huh!  I’ll say you lost track of time,” she scoffs as Kris continues scarfing down their lunch and garbling through their explanation.

Still, The Mayor listens-quiet and unblinking-while her hands continue absentmindedly caressing the bag. When Kris finishes, she gives a small nod. The corner of her mouth twitches, the beginnings of a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. “Incredible. So it worked.”

She clutches the bag a little tighter-then suddenly freezes.

“But…by ‘mostly’… what do you mean?Furthermore, who exactly joined you on your mission today?”

The Prince from the Dark is just that. A Darkner not of this world. But the Monster? Someone that hails from their town.  And the problem with that is simple: it could be anyone. One small relief remains. At least for now, anyway.  Kris never said Noelle’s name.

Carol’s eyes narrow.  “Chew before you answer me, please. You’ll choke.”

their gaze averts . kris chews slowly , an immovable dread welling in their chest as they stave off this inevitable confession .

they aren’t entirely sure how familiar carol is with susie — but they are certainly confident that very little gets past the mayor . rumours about the violent new girl have circulated around town ever since her arrival . potential candidates for their mission have undoubtedly been scoured and scrutinised from afar by carol , and new arrivals wouldn’t fly under her radar .

a draconic monster , fighting alongside a knightly human , naive to her role in this budding tragedy . the irony is not lost them .

“ … wasn’t noelle . ” it is somehow both avoidant and well - intentioned , the way that they opt to lead with good news . kris swallows . they lick sugary crumbs from their bitten lips , lips pursing as they instinctively straighten their slouched posture . “ almost was . she wanted , to come . but it was — susie … in the end . that came with me . ”

scarlet eyes glint from behind dark fronds of hair that hang in their face . they gaze at their bag with distant contempt as the mayor fawns over what lurks within . it strains and pushes and presses against the fabric confines of their bag , beating steadily with holy life .

kris begins to elaborate , monotone and mumbly . their fingers reach to pull on the ends of their choppy tresses just a little too sharply as they recount . subconscious harm that demands to be inflicted to keep them grounded and present .

“ susie separated from me and the prince . went ahead and caused … um , trouble , with the pointy - headed kid . but — it was nothing , that i couldn’t , course correct . ” they’re downplaying her capacity to upset the precarious balance at work . kris is careful to stifle their admiration for the girl , their tone deliberately lacking meaningful inflection or any particular emotional charge . “ wouldn’t wear , certain armours … and she didn’t have much interest . in being — a prophesied hero . she wanted , to be . a bad guy . ”

kris covers their mouth , muffling a laugh . they force themself to sober , shameful . their eyes are reminiscent of a guilty dog as they hasten to reassure .

“ … sorry . it went — well . she , um , came around . in the end . the prince is playing his part . the dark world was formed well , and sealing it … wasn’t , an issue . ”

pokopia ate me … but i’m back

krisp on da piano

kris nods mutely in response to her assertion , as if carol could physically see them . this peculiarity had only come about after dess’ disappearance . their hands feel slightly dry and sore from the excess of harsh scrubbing .

“ yes , ma'am . ” they mumble , feeling sufficiently scolded . this strange , strained dynamic they share with her stirs a feeling of discomfort in the human’s chest that is entirely their own . such a rare thing nowadays — most sentiments must be dulled or sharpened by the parasite within , and whatever biases it might hold .

though they don’t enjoy when carol is cold and harsh , this softening is almost worse . it reminds them of simpler times , where she was dragging them down from the tallest branches of her towering christmas tree , fussing in fond exasperation . but those unburdened days are so far behind them . “ … i’m coming . ”

they make swift work of the excavation of their soul . well practiced by now . hands plunge into their chest to carve out their angelic intruder , wet and slick with blood when they withdraw , and they shove the thrumming thing into their bag carelessly . another quick rinse to wash away the red — they’re mindful not to lose themself in the ritual this time . then kris heads out . shambling through town as the sun dips in the sky , towards carol’s office . single - minded .

her staff appear to be packing up for the day when they enter . the receptionist is familiar enough with the human , and appears aware of the command given for their late drop - in . kris presses forth into carol’s workspace . knocking once as courtesy , before opening the door to let themself in anyway .

haunting red eyes fix upon the monster . they are hungry . they are thirsty . deprived of necessities throughout the day — the angel forgoes fuelling it’s cage adequately , too caught up in the exploration of it’s heaven . they are tense and stiff , despite the absence of their internal puppeteer . yet here they are , all the same .

“ … ”

[“I’m coming.”] That right there is all Carol needs to hear. “Good. Don’t delay any more than you already have.”

She hangs up, abruptly, then seizes the moment to swivel around in her chair, back facing the door, to look out the window and take a few more forbidden drags from her cigarette. Savoring the nicotine buzz up until the inevitable knock at the door interrupts her. Smoke blasts from her lips, mingling with the pale steam of her breath in the frigid office air.

If this were anyone else, she would have already snubbed the cigarette out, slammed the drawer shut, and popped a breath mint. Heaven knows Mayor Holiday–with her pristine record–doesn’t need to be caught smoking on a no-smoking premise.

But Kris is an exception. Already they have seen her at her worst, and she has seen them at theirs.

So she simply lets the cigarette hang loosely between her fingers when the door opens, the ash creeping steadily closer to her fingers, as she hears Kris come shuffling into the room.

“Finally, you’re here. Now then… before we begin,” she starts, unable to conceal the eagerness in her voice. “It’s in the bag? Bring it here. On my desk.”

Now the Mayor swivels back around to look at them and—God. This might be the worst condition she has ever seen Kris in.

Their sunken eyes burn like two stubborn flames buried in pits of coal, far too bright for how hollow their face has become. Their lips are dry, flaking, split faintly at the corners. They look as though a puff of wind would send them on their way.This child is going to be used up too early at this rate. Carol’s face gives away nothing as she inspects them. However, the mother in her wants this human child fed, regardless of how matter-of-fact she intends to act about the horrible sight in front of her.

“You look like hell. I insist you have my lunch.” She gestures vaguely toward the bento box at the corner of her desk. Thankfully, it remains untouched. Sushi kept fresh by the chill of the room, a bottle of cold sparkling water, and a few sugar cookies.

kris removes their bag from their shoulder , and dumps it on carol’s desk in dutiful compliance . it is empty save for their thrumming soul , devoid of any trinkets or personal belongings — much like their bedroom at home . their entire life , scraped clean of anything that might clutter the angel’scage . a few stray smears of startlingly scarlet blood stain the soft canvas .

her eagerness is not lost on them ; it makes their expression sour , despite themself . the feeling lurches unpleasantly , makes itself clearly known without the parasite present to stuff such emotional displays down .

kris supposes carol has every reason to feel only warmth for the holy intruder that they trap in their chest on her behalf .

they shouldn’t be so bitter , either … they know . after all — it’s going to absolve them of their guilt from what happened that terrible night . it’s going to allow them dredge dess back to life , fix her terrible fate , offer her back to her grieving family . it’s going to do such wonderful things .

“ … thanks . think it forgets about feeding me . and watering me . ” they offer in flat , monotone explanation , pulling the lunchbox close with the eagerness of a starved animal . it sounds almost funny when they say it out loud . like they’re a neglected tamagotchi of some sort . kris swipes for the sugar cookies urgently , compelled by the sweet food first as always , and snarfs them down within seconds . speaking with their mouth full . “ i meant to eat at home . before , i came . but i lost … i lost , track — of time . ”

they sound short of breath . their sentiments short and clipped , monotone and mumbly , in a very kris - like way . their crimson eyes slant at the sparkling water offered apprehensively … but beggars can’t be choosers . unscrewing the cap , they gulp deeply from the bottle , ignoring the unpleasant taste in favour of finally quenching their day - old thirst .

“ … it’s going okay , though . really . ” which is not to say they are enjoying the experience of harbouring the angel . just that it’s nothing they can’t handle . their burden to shoulder , promised to her . they won’t get cold feet . “ the dark world , in the closet … we got through it . and sealed it . just fine . everything , mostly , went … the way it was s'posed to . ”

her messages went utterly unnoticed . the muffled buzzing of their phone at the bottom of their bag too easily drowned out by the gushing tap . it is only when carol calls and the ringtone begins to trill obnoxiously that they finally pause in their incessant hand washing … glancing over their shoulder hauntingly , ominously as if for the benefit of some unseen audience .

kris glances to their fingers again . a faint gray crease remains , as it always does . ( at least , they think it does . perhaps it’s just a cruel trick of the light . )

they can never wash it all away … and they certainly cannot continue ignoring the mayor’s outreach in their efforts to do so . pursing their lips , they roughly shake their disgusting hands dry , and grab their bag off the bathroom floor . fishing hurriedly for their mobile , calling carol back — sandwiching it between their shoulder and ear as they shamble out of the bathroom .

“ hello ? … i know , i know . ’m sorry . i just , i got , caught up — um , i stopped home , and … ” hand washing marathons , rudy would always jokingly refer to this odd habit of theirs as . kris glances around furtively . toriel has made a run to the store — which isn’t exactly a short errand anymore , considering her shine for the shopkeeper . ugh . no need to worry about keeping their voice down . it isn’t mumbly and soft - spoken — it’s unnaturally loud and crisp , as if they’re on speaker . “ … do you want me , to take it . out . before i , come down ? can stuff it . in my , bag . ”

As soon as she slaps her phone down on her desk for the umpteenth time, Carol yanks open the drawer and breaks into her stash of cigarettes-one of the least hideous of her dark secrets. After striking a lighter, she’s only seconds into taking a much-needed drag when–

“♫ Where Are You Christmas ♫”, an all too appropriate ringtone, chimes on her phone. Of course it would ring now. With a sharp exhale she snatches the phone up and answers it.

“As previously stated, you’re late,” she says flatly. Excuses immediately began tumbling out from the other end of the line. “…and what? Got hypnotized by the sink again?”” Carol cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She sighs.

That damned quirk. It couldn’t be anything else. Aside from Kris’s occasional “marathons,” they are always reliable. For all of their chaos, they answer when she calls for them. She makes sure they know this as much as possible.

Carol flicks out ash into a Christmas themed ceramic tray sitting in her desk drawer, just out of sight of anyone who might have the nerve to barge in.

“Look,” she continues, voice softening a fraction. This is for two reasons: The first being-this is Kris. And Heaven knows if anyone can understand an irrational compulsion, it is their Auntie Carol, who has dozens of them. The second…the mere mention of it. “You have five minutes. Put it in your bag…but don’t leave it behind.”

They can make sure it’s blind and deaf once Kris arrives. But she’d like it there in her Office.

“Just. Get. Here.”

kris nods mutely in response to her assertion , as if carol could physically see them . this peculiarity had only come about after dess’ disappearance . their hands feel slightly dry and sore from the excess of harsh scrubbing .

“ yes , ma'am . ” they mumble , feeling sufficiently scolded . this strange , strained dynamic they share with her stirs a feeling of discomfort in the human’s chest that is entirely their own . such a rare thing nowadays — most sentiments must be dulled or sharpened by the parasite within , and whatever biases it might hold .

though they don’t enjoy when carol is cold and harsh , this softening is almost worse . it reminds them of simpler times , where she was dragging them down from the tallest branches of her towering christmas tree , fussing in fond exasperation . but those unburdened days are so far behind them . “ … i’m coming . ”

they make swift work of the excavation of their soul . well practiced by now . hands plunge into their chest to carve out their angelic intruder , wet and slick with blood when they withdraw , and they shove the thrumming thing into their bag carelessly . another quick rinse to wash away the red — they’re mindful not to lose themself in the ritual this time . then kris heads out . shambling through town as the sun dips in the sky , towards carol’s office . single - minded .

her staff appear to be packing up for the day when they enter . the receptionist is familiar enough with the human , and appears aware of the command given for their late drop - in . kris presses forth into carol’s workspace . knocking once as courtesy , before opening the door to let themself in anyway .

haunting red eyes fix upon the monster . they are hungry . they are thirsty . deprived of necessities throughout the day — the angel forgoes fuelling it’s cage adequately , too caught up in the exploration of it’s heaven . they are tense and stiff , despite the absence of their internal puppeteer . yet here they are , all the same .

“ … ”

they’re watching the steady stream of warm water as it pours from the tap , lapping over their palms . it’s been an exorbitant amount of time that krissy has been stationed at the sink . lathering soap through their fingers , rubbing their hands together intensely . gazing hollowly at some unseen , stubborn spot they can’t seem wash away .

Carol runs a manicured hand across her face. The minutes accumulate, yet still, STILL, they haven’t answered her in any fashion. Not even so much as an unhelpful ‘who are you again?’ Very well. It’s pointless to keep texting. Cursing under her breath, she dials Kris and clutches the phone under her ear. No one picks up. Naturally. When she’s sent to voice mail, she proceeds to leave a slow, pointed message.

“Kris. I was expecting you to be here at my office. F o r t y. Minutes. Ago. Do you know what time it is? I cannot be waiting all evening. The time I’ve allotted is limited. Please. Answer.”

They’ve always been a troublesome child, she thinks while massaging her temples. However. It isn’t lost on her that she has been losing them to distance as the years went by.

Thit is the price you pay for gradually disregarding your human godchild’s personhood in the name of “necessity”, isn’t it, Mayor Holiday?

her messages went utterly unnoticed . the muffled buzzing of their phone at the bottom of their bag too easily drowned out by the gushing tap . it is only when carol calls and the ringtone begins to trill obnoxiously that they finally pause in their incessant hand washing … glancing over their shoulder hauntingly , ominously as if for the benefit of some unseen audience .

kris glances to their fingers again . a faint gray crease remains , as it always does . ( at least , they think it does . perhaps it’s just a cruel trick of the light . )

they can never wash it all away … and they certainly cannot continue ignoring the mayor’s outreach in their efforts to do so . pursing their lips , they roughly shake their disgusting hands dry , and grab their bag off the bathroom floor . fishing hurriedly for their mobile , calling carol back — sandwiching it between their shoulder and ear as they shamble out of the bathroom .

“ hello ? … i know , i know . ’m sorry . i just , i got , caught up — um , i stopped home , and … ” hand washing marathons , rudy would always jokingly refer to this odd habit of theirs as . kris glances around furtively . toriel has made a run to the store — which isn’t exactly a short errand anymore , considering her shine for the shopkeeper . ugh . no need to worry about keeping their voice down . it isn’t mumbly and soft - spoken — it’s unnaturally loud and crisp , as if they’re on speaker . “ … do you want me , to take it . out . before i , come down ? can stuff it . in my , bag . ”

they’re watching the steady stream of warm water as it pours from the tap , lapping over their palms . it’s been an exorbitant amount of time that krissy has been stationed at the sink . lathering soap through their fingers , rubbing their hands together intensely . gazing hollowly at some unseen , stubborn spot they can’t seem wash away .

“I’ve spoken with an angel. It’s a beautiful angel. It does beautiful things. I can bring her back.”

thinking very deeply about how prior to dess’ disappearance, asriel was the one who seemed to have some form of religious guilt, making confessions on their behalf about their wrongdoings in video games. and while i don’t think krissy has religious guilt, necessarily, they definitely have some form of moral ocd. adjacent. compulsive, obsessive handwashing, ‘they can never wash it all away.’

i just need to have more rules for myself. more rules and limits. surely that will help me

and punishments. more punishments. surely that will help

anonymous spoke : drabble + lost
send me drabble + any word , accepting .

the woods here are winding . krissy knows in their heart that the two of them are lost , despite dess’ confident reassurances otherwise . they pretend to believe her , nod and grin up at her easily with gapped teeth . it’s all bravado . the little human tremulously laughs away the terror of circling this overgrown labyrinth .

it feels as if they’re walking over forest floor that has been forever untrodden before their late night excursion . disturbing something that was utterly alone , before them . there is no path to guide them out here . they simply walk blindly , trustingly , through the darkness with her .

it’s so cold . that’s the reason they’re shaking — the only reason . the teenager accompanying them strides a little ways ahead , and a childish part of krissy wants to rush to her side and reach for her hand , clutch it tightly … but— they know it might make her jeer , and they don’t want dess to laugh at them .

they want her to think they’re big , and brave , and completely unfazed by the inky , suffocating darkness that seems to be closing in all around them .

that’s why they’re here , picking through the unkempt foliage with her , while noelle and asriel are left behind . the two of them are likely comforting each other , while waiting on the return of their respective sibling and friend anxiously . crybabies . always too faint of heart to do this cool stuff . not like krissy . they’re not scared .

… but they’re most certainly lost .

with a grunt of exertion , they pull themself up onto a fallen log that blocks their way . stumbling as they jump down from the trunk , scrambling to stand again and clumsily brushing dirt from their legs . dess briefly glances back , and urges them forward . idle annoyance edging her tone , her concern too brief and fleeting .

they don’t sniffle when a bit of blood begins to weep from their scraped knees . not loud enough for her to hear . it’s so late . they’ve been walking for so long . they’re deep in the heart of these endless woods , trees towering so high and leaves fanning so thickly that not even a slither of moonlight can filter through to illuminate their surroundings .

’ krissy … c'mon , already , get over here . you see that ? ’

dess finally speaks , hushed and urgent . a gleam of excitement dances in her dark eyes . she gestures ahead by extending her baseball bat forwards , indicating , and krissy tilts their head as they appear at her side . there’s a clearing below . a spot bathed in light , at long last . right in the centre looms the strangest structure , too . snared with winding threads of ivy , choked with thick growths of poison oak . stone walls , heavy set doors , almost prison - like .

dread washes over them . but dess is beaming , nudging them impishly , and they push their apprehension down as best they can .

dess does take their hand , that night . eventually . that is to say , her fingers wind tightly around theirs in a painful grip . it’s dark down there , so dark . they can only see terrified pinpricks , her eyes reflecting the moonlight , her expression contorted into a terrified scream . they try to hold on , they try so hard . they hold onto her tightly , pulling her towards them . screaming . but something drags her down , and they’re not strong enough . too scared . she slips through their hand , and they’ve lost her forever .

she’s lost now , forever .

Thinking about the way Tenna is overly nice to Susie even before her goated speech…. Almost as if he was influenced

by the way it’s going to be so embarrassing for me if kris doesn’t end up dead at the end of everything . if we’re writing right now just know that no matter what canon brings krissy is on a death march as far as we’re concerned REGARDLESS

constantly thinking about how bringing the roaring will drown the world in a darkness so pervasive that the darkners within will all eventually be doomed to petrification regardless . dess likely included . thinking all the time about how krissy will only be reanimating an echo of dess — much like how gerson was only an echo of himself .

exactly how he was remembered , a perfect memory dredged back to ’ life , ’ but stuck in place . reminding his son of things he had already insisted upon in life in his letter , passing on teachings he’d handed down to so many children before the delta warriors . his personality captured in a bottle , frozen forever in time . coldwater fell from the sky ?

to me , the roaring is pretty much the most final form of escapism that could wash over hometown . an unforgiving shadow being cast darker , yet darker over everything . freezing everything and everyone in place all so that one girl can live again — who will eventually be outgrown by everyone around her anyway , because she’s a limited entity . like a vhs tape , or a game character . there’s only so much that forms her , and growing beyond it is an impossibility , because she’s dead . this isn’t really her .

the darkness to reanimate her has to be so specifically tailored . the will to see her persist has to be so dedicated and precise when forming the fountains . for something so fragile , and fleeting ? to live in darkness with a girl that a select few people can’t let go of , to the detriment of all others around them . mannnnn

KISS ROULETTE . . . / NOT ACCEPTING.

40. an impulsive kiss

intertwined fingers lay on krissy’s skirt. wrapped so snugly in their own, both hands bore the same temperature; warm as the setting sun that burned behind passing-by clouds. the two were further away – curled up beneath the trees that separated concrete pavements from golden sands and salty waves. the ocean was not fit for swimming quite yet, the temperatures still touched by winter; but the day itself had been clear enough to venture into the beach and unfurl a sheet beneath them, a private picnic away from prying eyes.

krissy had devoured most things. with the prying entity zipped up in their bag, there was nothing to stop them from gulping down everything lemon had packed for them. it had been for them, after all. lemon made sure to clarify that. a sense of achievement sparked within them with every bite they watched the other take, every appreciative hum or fervent unwrapping of their favorite chocolates. lemon realized, quite belatedly, that their own sandwich lay half-eaten for a long while. they offered that too krissy, too.

it was long after they had finished up. swept up in conversation and closeness, time had slipped like sand. last rays of sunlight tickled their feet with lingering warmth, steadily obscured by faraway mountaintops. despite the way they had cuddled up against the tree, despite the comfort of their cheek resting on top of krissy’s head, the chill had started to pierce through their sweaters insistently.

their time here was soon to end.

lemon’s thumb brushed over the back of krissy’s hand, gentle. unyielding.

“did you like it? the beach.” a murmur. the hush of someone with a satiated stomach and cherished company. with the sound of waves across from them, the rustle of leaves above, the undeniable solidity of krissy snuggled up next to them …

lemon noted, for the first time, how the light glitters and dances on water in a way that could only be described as beautiful.

how could it elude them?

how could they let it go, now that they’ve witnessed it?

they’d have to part soon. their respective responsibilities calling them into the night. how long until they saw each other again, though? their visits were so often unprompted, impulsive moments of neediness pulling them from their misdeeds when they could – sometimes it was day after day, sometimes a week in-between. lemon dreaded the mere thought of it.

they leaned over. twilight had swept like a blanket over krissy’s delicate features. met with big, crimson eyes, there was nothing for lemon to do other than get thoroughly lost in them. their free hand rested beside krissy, trapping them against the tree.

bangs brushed against their lashes as they closed the gap between them.

it wasn’t long. it was the barest holding of breath. but it set lemon’s heart racing anyway, sprinting like rabbits in their chest. when they parted, the air between them was nothing like the evening chill. their breaths mingled and warmed pink-tinted cheeks.

“do you have to end the world after this?” lemon said. it was humor and neediness carried in one hushed request. “because. i don’t wanna go home yet.”

RANDOM LYRIC SENTENCE STARTERS .

“ no one tried to read my eyes . no one but you . ”

“ don’t leave me . it can’t be that easy . ”

“ please tell me not to go . ”

“ we’ve been here long before . ”

“ i’ll always be yours . ”

“ i can feel you with me like i did before . ”

“ i feel seen only through you . ”

“ i smile when i think of all the times we had . ”

“ i see her face in the forest , then it disappears . ”

“ i haven’t given you what you need . ”

“ i’m sorry , it should’ve been me . ”

“ if you’d never come for me , i might’ve drowned in the melancholy . ”

“ now i can see it all . ”

“ you dug me out of my grave and saved my heart . ”

“ i don’t know what i was thinking . ”

“ these fuzzy memories mess with my temper . ”

“ i’m sorry , my sweet baby , i wish i’d been there . ”

“ you’ll be the one to save us . ”

“ are you feeling nervous ? ”

“ i wasn’t jealous before we met . ”

“ i feel a kind of fear when i don’t have you near . ”

“ don’t go sharing your devotion . lay all your love on me . ”

“ nobody else could forgive me quite as often as you . ”

“ i couldn’t lose you . how could i lose you ? ”

“ who else could love me quite as kindly as you ? ”

“ it’s the end of the world . ”

“ don’t act like you were kind . ”

“ you were mine , but you were awful every time . ”

“ it’s you that’s always waiting , kissing the flowers in my hair . ”

^{send   me   ‘  drabble  ’   +   a   word   for   me   to   write   a   short   drabble   about   my   muse   with   that   word   in   mind  !   it   could   be   the   name   of   a   character   from   their   canon ,   a   certain   event   they’ve   been   through ,   or   an   emotion   or   feeling   to   name   a   few   examples  !}

every mitski song is about krissy and their relationships . ultimately

THATS SO CUTEEEE that makes me so happy here have more krusie anon share it with ur beloved

ALT

they look miserable and pained like a wounded animal when they’re by themself . by the way

Me As fuck when there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me, I gain no deeper knowledge of myself and the confession means nothing

you’ve met me at a very wild animal caught in a bear trap gnawing off its own leg time in my life

anonymous opinions / prompt

you’re so cutie !! kris and krissy have a lot of fun together n_n

why is everyone saying that awful word …

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY/COMMENT, JUST PUBLISH.

🎲 ping pongs a weird route kiss back to u so innocently <3. ( @threecfhearts )
5 . a firm kiss

they walk a forbidden path . krissy knows it to be true . the usurping of their angelic parasite should never have come to pass . horrors committed at lemon’s command by their own pricked hand in this all - consuming , pathetic compulsion to offset the ending they deserve .

through their loved one’s sheer grit , lemon’s burning determination to knock their future off course , krissy’s inevitable grim fate is beginning to buckle beneath their will . for the first time since this grim death march began , the prophecy’s glass panels are illegible … the previously sharp , rigid texts blurred and warped .

no matter how krissy tilts their head up at the great , looming thing … no matter what angle they observe the final pane from … clarity cannot be conjured . it ought to be impossible — yet lo , the frosted image always wanes . the unseen angelic choir warbles new , dulcet tones , improvised scripture that echoes hauntingly down the halls the two have explored hand in hand .

“ lemon … can you see , too ? the way it’s … ” krissy’s throat feels tight . for a few long , lingering moments , they can’t tear their eyes away from the vision . if it wasn’t for the stabbing pain from the wicked implement lodged deep in their palm , they might have to wonder if they were only dreaming — sure to jolt awake unpleasantly , still caged by their promise .

guilt grips their heart like an icy fist , unforgiving . never easily warded in moments like these , wherein a tug of fleeting hope can finally loosen the metaphorical noose around their neck that’s been rubbing raw .

crimson eyes fix upon the other human , wide with familiar trepidation . their breath audibly catches … an incredulous , terrified huff quivering past their bitten lips .

“ usually , this one tells us … what would happen , to me . the cage . with human soul , and parts . it’s changing . we’re making it — change . i - i never thought — oh , lemon . is it really , right , for us , to … for me , to … ”

there’s no point continuing to tread that line of thought aloud . lemon is surely uninterested in dissecting their complex in yet another circular conversation — too quick to cut through it with their cold decisiveness that krissy continually finds themself powerless against .

in a sick , twisted way , it feels like relief … like such aching relief , to reluctantly relinquish their say in this suicide mission . slowly , but surely .

a dreamy idea of paying penance to their new angel flashes over their mind , a dizzying haze that drowns out thoughts of dess attempting to claw their way to the forefront of the knight’s mind . reaching out in the darkness . the holy light of their sword could cast her away . couldn’t it ? shouldn’t it ?

the needle in their palm twinges , white hot , as if in fervent agreement with such horrible sentiment —

no , no , it mustn’t .

this is only a cruel fantasy , sure to slip through their fingers .

just like she did .

looking at lemon now , bathed in the shifting hues of light that pour inexplicably from the stained glass … they’re nothing short of ethereal . their knees feel weak . they push down an urge to kneel and swear fealty , stricken with what they’re sure is love . they fend off a suffocating desire to beg for this all to stop — to have the silver point through their palm unequipped , to save her just as they promised .

you can’t have me , they should plead . i know you want me . i want you , too . more than anything . but so what ? i don’t get to want . i’m hurting you . i don’t want to hurt you . we’re going too far . you have to let me go .

… but they don’t protest . the words won’t come . lemon is carving a new ending for the two of them . it would be so ungrateful to turn away from it . krissy can’t turn away from them .

they care about each other .

can’t that be enough , just for a second ?

their heart pounds hard against their ribs , and their arms tenderly reach out . one sliding around the other teenager’s waist to coax proximity , their uninjured hand reaching for lemon’s face hopefully . their haunted expression eases as they lower , and krissy cups their cheek . they swallow a little too thickly . their eyes are just a little too glassy .

but still , a tremulous smile works it’s way across their paled features , adoring .

“ please … keep me , close . you’re going , to keep me … close . ” the words are nothing short of moony . they’re flushing pink , unable to restrain themself . krissy pulls lemon in before they can respond , pressing a firm kiss to their lips . lingering sweetly , whining against any premature effort to part . pressing deeper , hungrily , reluctant to withdraw even for breath . they gaze into the ringmaster’s eyes . “ aren’t , you … ? lemon . ”

krissy knows how to play it’s been so long from fnaf . they learnt the song for noelle , specifically , when they were younger . they also know how to play slasher stingers , like the michael myers / halloween theme .

@regretmuch said : what did they do

[ * Nothing … * ❤️ Chew faster ]

there is a bountiful harvest of moss woven into the cracks and crevices of these headstones … and they are very hungry . krissy chews faster and licks their lips hurriedly to dispose of the evidence , despite their obvious wrongdoing .

guilty dog icon