Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    His name is Jevil, and something cold is touching him. That’s the first thing he knows. It’s dark. His world is always dark, it’s literally the dark world, but this is a different kind of dark. Faintly, he can hear voices. 

    “Oh, I don’t know if that one works anymore. Something got jammed in the gears a long time ago.” It was a lady, it sounded like. He tried to get up to see who this lady was and why she was in his house, but he couldn’t move. Everything felt stiff and odd-shaped. Which wasn’t entirely unusual for him – he’d had a crick in his neck for the longest time and his tail was seemingly stuck in place – but even more so than usual. Never before had he paid too much attention to his shape, who would? But he tried anyways. No legs, no arms, square maybe? No, cube. Why is he a cube? And why is the cube full of bits and pieces that he doesn’t even want to sort through. 

    The cold thing picks him up, its hands are soft like a C. Round’s nose. He still can’t see, but can still feel his inside bits moving around as he’s tilted. Internally he screams, but he can’t move a muscle. He doesn’t even seem to have any! Slowly whatever this is gets closer. Something touches what he will tentatively call his ‘front’. It’s even colder.

    There’s something in him. 

    It creeps through whatever bits and pieces have replaced his insides. Plays with whatever thing he has become. The prodding tendrils slowly leech even the feeling of touch away and he wants so desperately to tell them to stop, to cry, to scream, to do something. 

    But he can’t do anything. 

    Something slides out of place, being tucked elsewhere. He’s dropped to the ground with a thud before something pushes him over. Is he facing up? Down? He doesn’t know. What’s up, what’s down? Where are his feet, or his head? Where’s his mouth, or legs? If his insides hadn’t been replaced with these unmoving, unfeeling things, they’d be whirring in sheer terror. The deathly stillness is somehow worse. 

    The hand – he’s assuming it to be a hand, or maybe a paw (no, not a paw, this can’t be anything like Seam’s gentle touch) – goes to something sticking from his side. This, at least, is almost familiar in shape: his tail. He focuses as much as he can on that, he’s used to it being oddly rigid. It’s been stuck for about as long as he can remember. Which, now that he thinks about it (now that all he can do is think) isn’t that far back… How old is he? Was he ever a child? He doesn’t remember being a child. Or who his parents are or where he’s from or anything. So what is he? Jevil, the magician, partner of Seam. He’s Jevil, he’s alive, he should be alive, and he should not be this tiny box thing and normally he can move however much he wants. He should be able to see and talk and bounce around and do magic. He should not be some weird box with a handle and metallic, clinking insides. 

    Something moves. 

    Both outside and, even worse, inside moves. This being is manipulating his tail. Sound plays from somewhere? He can’t pinpoint the sound until he realizes it’s him. He’s making the noise and has no idea how, much less how to stop. 

    Another mind brushes against his own, the thoughts just wrong enough for him to recognize that something else is planting thoughts into his head, putting words there, putting a tune and lyrics and All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel and it’s not him and he can’t stop can’t get it out get it out GET IT the monkey thought it was all in good fun get out GET OUT GET OUT! THIS IS ALL HE HAS! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS TOO! Pop! 

    Brightness. His neck – long broken – springs out from something and he can see, even if he can’t blink. A beast of some sort, all white and lacking eyes. Strange horns and wisps of darkness slinking back into its mouth, a heart on its tail, fangs and nose and odd doubled ears. It grins down at his helpless form, maw more than big enough to snap his neck in one bite. 

    Goes the weasel. 

    It shoves him back in, making some wheezing noise that should be laughter, but is so different from what he’s ever heard from kids and adults alike. Darkness. Winding. Music. Pop! Darkness. Winding. Music. Pop! Darkness. Winding. Music…

    -

    A hand touches his shoulder and he shoots up, “POP GOES THE WEASEL!” His head lolls from its spring and he flinches when it’s put back in. He can only stare, forgetting that he’s capable of more, as he takes stock of himself. Two legs, two feet, arms, a mouth, the ability to blink…

    “Jevil? Are you alright?” The gentle voice of Seam asks. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen your head pop off like that. I thought it’d broken.”

    Jevil laughs uneasily, “Hah… me too.” He slides off the bed, taking a deep breath – he’s breathing, he can breathe, he’s made of darkness and magic, not wood and plastic – and settling back into his form. His head feels ready to pop right off again, and even his tail feels too loose. “Just had a bad dream, dream! A real nightmare.” Trying to keep some of his trademark levity in things, he lets his head spring off again; at least his neck doesn’t feel so stiff anymore. “Must’ve sprung something loose, loose! Feels good, honestly.” Focus on the bright side. It wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare. Nightmares aren’t real, and he is definitely not a box, nor in a box. Okay, maybe in a box, if you count a castle as a box, but it’s hardly as cramped. 

    “Alright. Anyways, come on. The young prince Lancer is waiting for you,” Seam said. He had his fans too, of course, but the kids seemed to prefer Jevil’s antics. 

    “Okay, okay!” he chirps, trying to leave the feeling of gears behind…

Chapter Text

            No bad dreams in the week or two since, so hey! That’s great, right? And his neck and tail have been thoroughly fixed. It’s been a blast learning all the stuff his tail can do, and when his neck’s extended, he’s finally taller than Seam! He hardly notices the occasional feeling of gears inside of him - or at least tries not to - or the strange sense that his skin is too shiny and fake - he’s hated mirrors lately.

            The most recent performance for the kings went well! Well, well as it ever does. Jevil’s feats of magic don’t impress them much – he might have all kinds of tricks, but collectively they can do all the same and then some – so it usually comes down to the kind of witticism and fun-poking that Seam wouldn’t have the nerve for. Admittedly it helps that Jevil’s always tended to smile and laugh when scared out of his mind. Poor King Spade was the butt of things today, being grumpy as usual, but King Diamonds got his share of licks. The King of Clubs even joined in on making fun of themselves, and in the end, the King of Hearts finally decided to do something about the warring checkers. They were all over the board and no one could get out of or to the castle.

            Yes, Jevil’s just about put it all behind him and gotten back to his typical japery – plus some extra springy antics – when he sees something that makes it come crashing down.

            White fur, no eyes, strange horns, heart tail, doubled ears, fangs. It’s them.

            His insides suddenly feel too heavy, too stiff, too mechanical. He wills his feet to run, wills his eyes to look away, but he feels like he’s back to plastic and wood, back to stuck inside this tiny box with bits and pieces gumming his gears.

            The beast approaches, hallway growing colder.

            Jevil’s smile is frozen on his face, but the rest of him snaps back into motion, “Well there! Hello, hello!” He gives a flourished bow, but refuses to take his eyes off of this… this… whatever it is. Not a human, almost certainly not a monster, but not like any Darkner he’s seen before. “What are you doing here?” What is it doing in this realm? In reality? Outside of probably the most disturbing nightmare he’s ever had?
            It doesn’t answer, just grabbing his tail with over-cold paws and tiny, dark claws and he can’t move.

            Gears inside of him turn as it winds his suddenly-stiffened tail. Click, click, click. The pressure grows tighter and tighter as something coils. It’s different, but similar. Horrifyingly similar. The tension gathers until Jevil’s sure he’s going to either be crushed from the inside or explode into so many pieces no one will ever put him together again.

            Then it stops. His tail turns without his consent, unwinding in a way that would be relieving if not for his body starting to move on his own, dancing and spinning and hopping about in some set routine that he never knew he had. He’s not sure if this is better or worse than the nightmare’s paralysis.

            But it quickly tips into worse as he realizes he’s singing. He can’t stop his mouth no matter how hard he tries, can’t even get these pulleys and levers and whatever else to stop long enough to clamp his hands over his mouth. The phantom song that haunts his nightmares comes from his own mouth with a literally forced grin, “All around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel, the monkey thought it was all in good fun, Pop!” his head springs, dizzying, disorienting, “Goes the weasel!”

            His body goes through the motions once, twice, three times more before the tension abates and he collapses, gasping for breath and trying to summon the strength to move freely again. The strange creature, at some point, had taken to sitting on the floor and smiling and clapping, clearly watching even without eyes to see. It feels like a mockery of his performances, of his lifeblood, his passion…

            The second his strength comes back, he turns tail and runs.

Chapter Text

            Seam is worried. Jevil had gone to poke fun at the kings, something Jevil and only Jevil could get away with. It was more magical than any of their shows that Jevil could openly mock the entirety of the royalty and not only go free and unscathed, but live in the palace and occasionally get them to actually do important things – relatedly, since the checkers incident was being dealt with, he had plans to go get more stock from outside the castle walls.  So far as Seam could tell, that went well, the kings were laughing, the poor guards outside the door were trying not to laugh for they rarely got the mercy Jevil garnered, and Clover had gotten a small show in the hallway.

            Then Jevil came sprinting full pelt to their room with that terrified grin – eyes round as his buttons, ears back, teeth fully beard – and locked even Seam himself out of their shared room. Seam, for hardly the first time in his life and surely not the last, wondered why he had yet to get himself a key.

            As such, he’s currently knocking on the door. “Jevil? Jevil, are you quite alright?”

            The sound that comes back is an incomprehensible mess of gibberish coming between choked sobs and a whining sound.

            “Can I come in?” Seam asks gently as he can. If it came to it, he wasn’t above trying to pick the lock with some summoned needles.

            “No!” Jevil shouted. “No. No… I’m… I’m not decent!”

            Seam’s eye rotated as he sighed, “Jevil, just put some clothes on…” It was a weak excuse and they both knew it. If Jevil was really doing alright, he’d probably strip himself to the underwear specifically to try to get a rise out of Seam. “Or have your horns gotten stuck again?”

            “Yes, yes! Quite stuck, stuck!” Jevil says, voice edging on hysteria. “I’m afraid I cannot get the door until I unstick myself! So go along, along! I’ll get out myself!”

            No. Not happening. Seam summons some needles, pressing the side of his head to the door – trying to ignore the sounds of pacing and heavy breathing coming from within – until he hears the clunk of the lock unlatching. The door slides open and he sees Jevil walking around the room, strained smile frozen on his face and hands in the hair under his hat.

            Seam went over and hugged him, stroking his back. His paws caught on something curious (for he knew well how it felt to hold Jevil) and he looked down to see a ribbon. It looked like Jevil was trying to tie his head on. Tears splotched on Seam’s cloak, little whimpers coming from Jevil.

            “What’s all this about?” Seam asks. He’s usually not one for violence, but he can make exceptions.

            Jevil just shakes his head and yanks at his tail. “I don’t want this.”

            “Your… your tail?” Seam says, brows knit together. “Why not?” He’s just gotten it working again and has clearly been having fun testing it out. Just yesterday he realized he could jam it in cracks between walls and hang upside down, a fact which everyone soon knew as well.

            Jevil remains unusually quiet for a while except stifled sniffles and sobs. His ears droop and his smile falls as he looks teary-eyed at Seam, “Do I… do I look different? Different? Or better question, how do I look at all?”

            “Same as ever, I’d say.” Seam says, kissing the top of his head, right under his hat. “Adorable.”

            This didn’t get the smile it usually would from Jevil. Seam’s heart drops, worried. More serious, he looks Jevil up and down, “You’ve got a tail with a flat end, you’re purple with marks around your eyes, little horns and light brown hair under your hat, and big green eyes…”

            Jevil nods slightly, but still has a far off look about him. He takes Seam’s head and pulls an ear to his chest. “What do I sound like?”

            Worry worms deep into Seam’s chest. What had happened to his friend to make him like this? To make Jevil, taunter of kings, master of cards, pleaser of crowds, and overall fearless goofball look so small and scared? Nonetheless, he takes a deep breath and focuses, ears lightly twitching as he listens close as he can. But what he’s listening for he’s not sure. It’s just the same soft, rhythmic sound that always comes from Jevil: click, click, click, click…

            “Like ticking, I suppose. Same as always.”

            Jevil’s ears drop, eyes wide, but he forces on a smile through his tears, nestling up to Seam’s chest. Helpless, Seam can only offer comfort, locking the door and bringing them both to bed so they can cuddle until, hopefully, his partner feels better again. All the while, he’s trying to figure out what could’ve caused this in the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

            It had taken a while to convince Seam he was fine. Because he was. He was fine, he had to be, right? He’s being stupid. So what if his insides don’t sound like Seam’s? So what if, now that he thinks about it, it sounds too much like gears? So what?

            So long as he stays away from that eyeless abomination, he’ll be fine, fine!

            But more than once he’s caught his reflection in a mirror or window and had to ask, why doesn’t he look like the other cards? He has their powers, all of their powers even! So isn’t he a card? Then why does his head bounce on a spring? Why does he make music? The rest don’t do that. He’s gotten uncomfortably close to a few too many cards – especially the queen of Diamonds, even he’s surprised that the King of Diamonds let him keep his head after that – to not know that they don’t have any sound in their chests. Well, not unless you count the mouths in some of the higher Spades, but that’s more of the stomach region anyways.

            Seam, at least, had something in common with some people. There were plenty of fuzzy folk if you look far enough, but he hadn’t seen another with a head like his. Nor with a tail. But Seam is the closest thing to Jevil, but Jevil looks nothing like him!

            So what is he? Why is he so weird?

            Is that why he’s being targeted? By whatever this thing is? Because he’s one of a kind? In the past he would’ve loved the sound of that, but he could do without, thanks.

            Nonetheless, being foolish is his job and his life, so the fool he will be! If he trips a little more than usual or says something a little off, people just laugh! Because that’s what you do with a joke! And that’s all this is, right? Just one big joke at his expense!

            His job, of course, would be easier if the being in his nightmares hadn’t taken residence in the castle. It seemed to hang around Rouxls and cause minor mischief. Maybe if things had gone different, they could’ve been friends, but as it is…

            “KEEP THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!” Jevil screams, holding desperately to the middle of a tall stone pillar with his tail tucked to his stomach, hopefully out of reach of cold, grabbing paws.

            “What? Thine childe? Foolish jester, they wouldst hardly hurthest a fly! Why art thou so terrified?”

            “THAT THING ISN’T A CHILD ROUXLS!” Jevil screams back. He pops his head off just enough to look down, seeing if it’s still safely on the ground.

            The abomination stuck one hoof into a chink in the stone, pulling itself up. Jevil’s ears twitch, alarmed, but surely it can’t get much further up? But it does. Alarmingly fast even. Its hooves sink easily into even the smallest of notches, letting it leap up with seeming abandon. Jevil barely has time to process what’s happening, it’s moving so fast, before little claws miss his legs by a breath.

            He screams and hops off the wall, putting his head back on mid-sprint. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” It doesn’t.

            Well, not willingly. He smacks headfirst into a wall before he looks back and realizes that Rouxls has got the strange goat-thing. “Heh. Thanks. Uh… owe ya one. Do me a favor now and kill it.”

            Rouxls narrows his eyes, “I shall not! Truly, ‘tis just a harmless childe!” He rolls his eyes then turns to the thing. “And you! Frisk, you musteth understand, thou must learneth personal space. Not all enjoy ‘close playtimes’ you see.”

            The thing, “Frisk” apparently, patted at Rouxls’s head. Jevil didn’t stay around to see much else, not stopping until he’d ran right into a mirror. Overly-round, glassy green eyes stared lifelessly back at him. His ears twitched with every whir and tick inside of him, and he hoped to whatever deity was out there that he was only imagining the little tune of All around the mulberry bush…

            … Pop goes the weasel! There’s the sound of something shattering and a pain in his head. Hah. Broken mirror! A few years of bad luck then, but hey! Can’t get much worse.

            “Hah. I’m really cracking up, aren’t I? Aren’t I?” He says to no one in particular, trying not to cry as he  pushes his head back in place.

Chapter Text

            Jevil wakes up and wants more than anything to scream. He’s back. Tight gears, a wall of cubes, and something touching his not-tail. But he can’t, of course. No, why would it allow him that mercy this time? Why allow it ever?

            All around the mulberry bush…

            Why did this keep happening? Why just him?

            The monkey chased the weasel…

            Sure he can be a bit annoying, but what had he ever done to warrant this? What had he done to warrant being stuck in, no, as some little box, only able to think and feel and just trapped trapped trapped…

            The monkey thought it was all in good fun…

            Why does this thing keep haunting him?! What had he ever done to it? Why him? He was just a jester! Why not the kings, the queens, the checkers, the dust bunnies? Why him?! What did he ever do to it?

            Pop goes the weasel!

            His head pops up and once again the sudden light sears the glassy not-eyes of whatever he’s become. Everything swims as his head bobs, but it’s hard to miss the mass of white and dark that mark Frisk. Almost funny, what a simple sounding name for whatever this thing is.

            His head stops bobbing and he internally braces himself to be unceremoniously shoved back into his little darkness and made to pop out again. One second, two seconds, three… He can see other kids. None of them darkners, so must be lightners! Mostly monsters, he thinks. Most knew there were a few kinds of lightners: humans, monsters, animals… Four, five, six… A familiar shade of dusty purple catches the corner of his eyes and he tries desperately to scream. Seam! Seam! But nothing comes out. Seven, eight, nine… One of the monsters, one looking like a dust bunny, is playing with his friend. Jevil wishes he could be sick. Physically sick. It would at least be better than having to watch his best friend in some dumb child’s hands. Ten, eleven, twelve… His soul – or whatever kept his mind thinking and chest ticking – sunk as lizard kid came over, pulling hard on Seam. No! No! You’re going to break them! He loses count of seconds, watching in horror as the two struggle. Sharp teeth sink into the little toy, the bunny’s crying, running. He can’t stop it. More than anything he wants to spring over, to save his partner, to scream to yell to tell Seam to wake up! Wake up! But he can’t. He can only watch, only half-aware he’s still being held.

            The lizard boy gets away, but he sees it fall off. One button eye caught in the bunny’s fur and Jevil's soul dropped. No, please. They need that! Put it back! Put it back! The bunny turned, running, button snagged. Wait! Stop! Stop moving! You're going to hurt them! With a small tug, presumably not even noticing what they'd done as the bunny ran for the teacher, the little threads unraveled, button falling quietly to the floor, noticed by no one but the muted jester. The lizard child laughed, looking down at Seam's limp form, teeth showing. Jevil couldn't look away, both physically and metaphorically. Would that brat maim Seam? Tear his other stitches out? Did they even know what they were doing? Those teeth, those claws...

            A cold hand touches the top of Jevil's head, pushing him back. NO! NO! STOP! HELP THEM! SAVE THEM! STOP!

            The world goes dark, sound muffled, everything muffled. Jevil could only sit there, trapped, alone, and try to keep count of the seconds if only for something to do.

-

            He’s not sure when he goes from one dream to another. Everything feels disconnected, distant, so so unimportant. The moment keeps playing in his head, somehow only growing in detail. A rabbit holding the helpless form of his equally trapped friend. A lizard tugging on him, growling, hissing, spitting. Claiming it as his before finally lashing out. A button catches on the rabbit as she runs, crying. In vivid detail he can remember the fur and seams, the way the fabric was torn off, the stitches undone… And then it was gone. He was gone. Darkness. And repeat. A rabbit, a lizard, tearing fabric and bits left behind. A rabbit a lizard and fabric and buttons a rabbit a lizard fabric buttons rabbit lizard fabric buttons-

            At some point Seam grumbles noise, rolling over half-asleep and Jevil realizes he’s no longer a box. It takes him longer still to remember that he can move again. Jevil pushes himself up slowly, teeth bared in a terrified grin, and creeps out of the room. Let Seam sleep. Let them rest. Hopefully rest. Please, stay asleep. Please don’t dream. Don’t pull Seam into this too. It’s not worth it. They don't deserve something like that. Please just be sleeping normally...

~~~

            The next morning when Jevil sees Seam, they've misplaced their left eye.

Chapter Text

            Seam is worried, yet again. They’ve been in an almost constant state of worry and it’s starting to wear down on them. But today they’re worried even more than normal. Jevil’d been acting odd all morning, according to those in the castle. His jokes had been flat, his grin had been forced, but what people noticed most was the lack of energy.

            Seam, unfortunately, had no way of confirming these rumors because the second Jevil saw them the little imp’s eyes went straight to their left eye, or rather, where that particular button used to be, and he just went blank, stumbling off to who knows where without a word. Unfortunately, the little thing was faster than them even when clearly out of it and Seam lost track of him.

What could have upset him so much? Sure, a lost eye could be rather traumatic for some, but that left button of theirs had been a little loose since a spat with the Black Knight. It seemed that yet again it had slipped off in their sleep, lost somewhere in the mounds of blankets. Honestly they had half suspected that Jevil himself had slipped it off as a joke – Jevil had fixed it himself a few times, and Seam had hoped that he was used to the idea by now – when they couldn’t find it in the bed that morning, but apparently not.

            So Seam finds themselves going to their room, looking for the little joker, but to their surprise, it’s unlocked. Almost a shame, they finally made an extra key. But there’s no sign of Jevil inside, his belongings not withstanding. Where else could he have gone? Normally Seam would just follow the trail of mischief or listen for the sound of laughter, but the castle is quiet today.

            That said, Jevil can’t have gone too far, not without getting mixed up in the checkers’ fight. And their friend might be the royal fool, but he isn’t that foolish. At least Seam hopes not.

            Well then, seems they’re doing this the hard way. But then, they can do anything, so how hard could it be?

            Seam summons a ball of yarn and looks for a scrap of cloth from Jevil. Given that this is literally Jevil’s room, it’s easy enough to find something of his. “Alright then,” Seam mutters to themselves, stuffing the bit of fabric into a yarn ball; it should be able to find him now. All they have to do is follow the yarn. Seam's tail curls and lashes in anticipation, one good button eye focused entirely on the yarn ball with a grin on their face and a purr in their chest. “If Jevil wants to play, so be it.” They say, then throw it down the hall and start prancing after it on all fours.

            Oh they’d always loved this trick, even if they were often too embarrassed to admit it. They hoped their desire not to be seen was enough to keep their magic yarn ball from crossing too many’s paths as they chased and batted it down the halls, tail flicking as though they were still just a kitten. No matter which way they batted it, it never doubled on itself, and there was always a string leading them back where they’d been (not that they’d need it this time, but it had happened before). Seam choked down the impulse to kick at it with their feet or catch it in their claws, but couldn't keep down the giddiness of a good game of yarn. Oh when Jevil had found this game of theirs the first time, well, they’d like to say it was embarrassing or awful, but it was the most fun they’d had in a long while. Somehow they’d never gotten caught by the rest of the castle no matter how wild or far they roamed; Seam suspected Jevil planned it that way, no matter how much he'd teased the threat of getting caught.

            When they get to the elevator though, Seam tries to maintain some dignity, picking it up with their hand instead of their mouth and fluffing out the ruffles of their magician’s cloak. Hopefully no one will come with them, but it is an elevator. Elevators tend to get traffic in the castle, especially since a good chunk of the cards lacked proper feet and had trouble with stairs.

            Seam looks at the buttons, trying to figure out level would most likely have their friend. Maybe the top? They can imagine him springing about on the roof, maybe tormenting Rouxls in his shop, or playing with little Lancer. Or perhaps he’s doing coin tricks for the Rudinn again. Of course, he always like “giving his heart” to Hathy for a chuckle, or maybe he’s somewhere spectating the checkers?

            Oh why even bother with all this? Seam covers their one good eye and throws the yarn ball full pelt at the buttons, letting it hit what it will. When they look, they see it’s the basement. How odd… Not many go down there. The only room is right below where the Dark Fountain comes from. Most don't come so close to it, they say it can give strange visions that only the most powerful Darkners can handle. As such, most of the room is locked away.

            Seam waits in the elevator and idly claws their yarn ball until the doors come open. There’s only one way to go, they don’t need their yarn anymore, so they use magic to draw it back, winding up the magic threads and stuffing it away for later.

            Jevil sits in front of the locked door, watching as something spins within, powered by the Dark Fountain.

            Sean walks over, standing by Jevil's left side, keeping his eye towards the other; it's not that he distrusts Jevil, but he doesn't want to scare him again with the reopened hole. “Are you alright?”

            “Did you find your eye?” Jevil asks.

            “I’m more worried about you right now,” Seam says, putting a paw on Jevil’s shoulder.

            The little clown leans against him, Seam can feel the gentle whir of his chest. It’s a familiar sound, soft and constant. Some might find it creepy, but it’s one of Seam’s favorite noises. Usually they only get to hear it in their sleep though; Jevil rarely both stood still and stayed quiet while awake.

            “I saw them rip it off. Some lizard, or some bunny, both kinda. Didn’t mean to, but, but…” his little hands ground into the stone, tail sweeping in front of him. “Ya ain’t a toy.”

            Where did this come from? “Of course not.”

            “And I ain’t a toy?” Jevil says, staring at his own hands.

            “Why would you be?”

            Jevil didn’t look convinced. It’s odd seeing the little jester without his grin. Seam didn’t care too much for it.

            “What’s all this about anyways?” Seam asks. “Did you have another nightmare?”

            “That easy to read, aren’t I? Ah, who cares. I’m just a joke anyways. It’s all just a big joke, just a big game, game!” A manic grin split his face for a moment too long before he went back to just looking tired. “And I don’t wanna play anymore.”

            Seam’s soul drops, dread coiling up inside of them. “You’re allowed to have off days you know… Do you want to just come back to our room and cuddle? Maybe throw some yarn? Who knows, maybe I’ll get caught this time.”

            Jevil sighs. “Ya don’t get it. That’s probably for the best. Glad you slept well at least.”

            “What do you mea-”

            “Where do ya think this fountain goes anyways? I mean, it gives us shape or whatever, but where does it go? To some light fountain? A light world? What happens if we go up there? I mean, I’ve heard lightners can come down here and be alright, so why not us?”

            “Well, they’re made of something more physical, we’d come apart in the light-”

            “Would we? Or could it be that we can’t go up there ‘cause we already are?” Jevil says, grinning. He pushes himself up, standing on his tail and looking into the locked room. Watching it spin, watching the darkness leak down. “You didn’t lose that eye for no reason, you know. Funny… what else do they control?”

            “Jevil? You’re not making sense."

            “Oh ain’t I? Or does it just hurt? ‘cause I get that. But hey, we’re here, we’re toys, so why not play, play?” His smile grows larger, showing off his many fangs, but there’s no joy to it.. Jevil giggles manically, hopping off of his tail and doing a backflip, head popping off when he lands. “It’s all a game, game! We’re just toys, playing their game! Don’t you see it?” His head popped around behind Seam as Jevil towered over them on his tail. “So what’s it matter? We can’t die, die! Or can’t live? It’s hardly in our hands if we break or not! So why, why? Why not try?”

            Jevil vaults himself right over Seam and bounces up the stairs before Seam can get another word out. The elevator dings and Jevil cackles as he darts in, leaving Seam in the dark with nothing but a feeling of deep horror and the echoes of Jevil’s words bouncing around their head.

Chapter Text

            What does it matter? What does any of it matter? They’re all just toys, toys! They can be broken at any time and can’t even do a thing, thing! So why even try to fight it? Why even try?

            Jevil bounces his way outside, giggling madly and not even stopping to care if he gets hurt? But can he get hurt at all? His real body’s elsewhere, isn’t it? Besides, he’s gears and metal and plastic, isn’t he? Much tougher stuff than whatever cardboard this might be!

            “Hello, hello! Let the games begin, friends, friends!” Jevil shouts to no one in particular as he reaches the outdoors. The sky is endlessly black – black and dark and if he imagines just right it could be square, couldn’t it? Yes, just a great big cube! But hey, that must mean there’s a way out too, right? Right? He’ll just hop on out after he’s had his fun, fun!

            The checkers are having their fight, toddling and rolling and hopping along the Great Board. It looks like a few Pawns tried to join in, but it looks like they’ve been tossed unceremoniously aside. He goes over to one, standing on top of it. “Don’tcha know pal? We’re playing checkers, not Chess! Tsk tsk. Ah well, rookies, what can ya do about them? You’re just a stinking pawn anyways! Made to die and sacrifice and die, and for what? To become a queen? No! To bring her back, you’re never queen yourself. What happens to you when the queen returns? Ever think about that?”

            It simply stared at him. Of course it did. Everyone knew pawns were brainless at best. Just following orders.

            Fucking pathetic.

            “Nothing to say, ay? Oh well, well! Let’s play anyways!” He winds up on his tail, summoning a circle of spades. “I’ll give ya the old ring around! Hehehe!” Spades smash into the unmoving pawn, it’s too dumb to dodge. Or maybe just doesn’t play that game? Or maybe it just doesn’t care! It’s its nature to die and sacrifice and do it all again for some nameless king, after all. How many times has it died? Never, people don’t work like that, this isn’t the same, isn’t right, but was a pawn ever a person? He doesn’t know anymore. As such, it’s over all too fast, lying smashed and broken on the ground.

            Well that was boring. But what did he expect? It’s a lone pawn, not like they ever do anything by themselves anyways. No, if he wants fun, he’d best go elsewhere.

            Jevil bounces on up to the checkers war, laughing as he finds himself surrounded by the chaos, chaos! “Heeeeey! It’s ya boy, Jevil!” He narrowly ducks away from a red K. Round kicking him, only to be shot off by a punch from a Black K. Round. He bounces across the Great Board, head springing about as he giggles maniacally and skids to a halt on the other side. “What? No crown for me, me? What I fool, fool I be, be!” He chirps. “Or maybe, just maybe, I’m playing for the wrong team?” It looks like the Blacks own this side, so he must be black then! It suits him, he supposes.

            A Head Hathy frowns at Jevil as he bounces forward, but he doesn’t mind a bit, “My hearts go out to all you sinners! Hehehe!” Hearts spin and spin in a circle, trapping some little C. Rounds within. The dummies try to charge through! Silly checkers, all you had to do is stay still! But they never were smart, were they? A K. Round breaks through, snarling at him through its puppy-like face, crown heavy on its head. It bounces up high, glimmering in the sky and shooting painful sparks below, but Jevil cartwheels right out of its path.“Whoopsy! Going to have to try harder than that.”

            The Head Hathy frowns, gnashing her teeth, and surrounds Jevil in a ring of hearts, trying to keep him still.

            “Hey! Cool it!” He snaps. “I’m just trying to play, play! After all, the fastest way to clear it all up is to win the game, game!”

            A Rudinn looks around nervously, “Uh… Boss said to just try to break it up? Keep too many from dying, you know?”

            “Oh that’s no fun, no fun! Don’t you see? Why else would they be here but to fight? And maybe even just to fight with me, me!” After all, someone has to play the game, and he’s got more of a mind than these bozos.

            “(Dude, I don’t get paid enough for this.)” The Rudinn says, inching away.

            The Head Hathy encases him in one of her hearts, jerking him to the side. He flies off the board, limbs scrambling midair…

His tail catches the side of the board, barely. Jevil giggles as he dangles, head having sprung off beneath him.

Oh she is going to pay for that.

Jevil hoists himself up, throwing himself at her, only to fly into another ring of hearts, stopping him and making him fall to the ground. Barely a scratch. Paper isn’t much match against metal and plastic, is it? “Back off, sweetheart!” He’s going to win, has to win, please let the game end, but it’s so much fun being on this side, calling the shots. Is that why that child did that?     

            Hearts surround him once more as the Hathy snarls, almost daring Jevil to try.

            “I can do that too y’know!” Jevil shouts, standing atop his tail and surrounding her with his own ring of hearts? “Don’t you understand? I can do anything! You aren’t going to win this.”

            Her hearts dissolve as she tries again to push him out with one big heart formed all around him, but he’s onto that trick now, moving along with it as the hearts surrounding Hathy turn into a ring of Spades, biting into her. She falters and Jevil grins. He’s going to win!

            Reckless, he lunges at her, fangs bared and magic at the ready. He’s only inches from her when she hits him upside the head with her staff. His spring twists, something horrible grinding inside of him and leaving his head ringing as he falls down. Something scrapes, sliding out of place with the horrid sound of metal on metal. It hurts, he’s breaking it hurts. A rogue kick from a red checker sends him across the battle field. They’re going to break him. Please. No no no no no no please.

            One of the black checkers punches it from the air and Jevil’s left for a moment, staring up at the endless black sky, head ringing and someone laughing. It sounds familiar… Oh wait, that’s him.

            She’ll pay. She’s going to pay. No one beats the joker, doesn’t she knows the rules? But she’s trying anyways.

            Fine then. If she wants to break the rules, so will he.

            It comes out of his mouth before he even knows what it means, “Metamorphosis.”

Chapter Text

            The Head Hathy finally falls and he stares, first grinning, then not.

… what has he done?

            Jevil stares around him, panting, as he takes in the carnage. Red covers his hands, covers his tail, covers him so much. Red bits of plastic and red bits of hearts and blood and red red red. The Head Hathy is gored open in front of him, slashed straight through the chest, and broken bits of checkers surround him. The rest don’t seem to care, continuing their fight undaunted, but then his eyes slide to the Rudinn.

            “Ya… ya ain’t gonna tell no one, riiiiight? Just, just me! Just me, me!”

            The Rudinn looks at him wide-eyed. “(Holy shit. He just-)”

            “YA AIN’T GONNA TELL NO ONE, right?” Jevil says, a different type of madness in his eyes.

            “N-No sir!”

            “Somehow, I don’t believe ya…” He creeps forward, then stops. What is he doing? There’s already one card dead, already scattered checkers, already red red red. He feels sick, so sick, and part of him relishes it. At least he can feel sick this time. At least he can feel like whatever he’s eaten wants revenge.

            “I won’t! I won’t!” The Rudinn pleads, shrinking down on itself.

            If word of this gets out, it’s over. But it doesn’t look like anyone else is watching. Even if they’re looking at a distance, there are too many pieces, too much moving around, and he’s sure he looks red red red. So it’d be fiiiine! Right? The only chink in that plan is this one, measly little, low-suited card who could spill everything. A few words and he’s…

            He’s what? Dead? They can’t kill him! Not so long as his body up there stays safe… right?

            His gaze drifts down to the Hathy and he feels so horribly cold. She still ain’t moving. Cards ain’t supposed to die. That’s against the rules, right? It’s gotta be!

            “… alright. Heh. Well then, I’m sure ya won’t mind running off to wherever then, right? Here, a little something for the trip.” Jevil says, grinning, as he gives the Rudinn a large stack of Dark Dollars. Being the Royal Jester pays well sometimes…

            The little Rudinn’s eyes light up into diamonds and it chirps, “Yes sir!” and slinks off as fast as it can.

            Well then, that’s one loose end down, but he can hardly go in there as a red-painted clown. There has to be somewhere to wash all this off… At least physically.

            Don’t think about it. Don’t look at it. Don’t think about it. Don’t look at it.

            It doesn’t matter. She’s a toy. Toys are meant to be played with. She was just a card though. Cards aren’t made to play rough! He can play rough though! He’s not sure what he is.

            Just… don’t look back. He walks towards the castle, looks around for a water source. Hey, who’s gonna question it if he sprays himself down? It was a joke, right? A joke, a joke! That’s all he is, a joke.

            …

            He’s a joke. But he doesn’t wanna play this game anymore. “I ain’t nobody’s toy,” he says to himself as he turns on a hose. The red red red washes into the ground, mixing with the hues of black and some of blue.

            What did he do? That was a person! And he, he…

            “No, no! It’s fine, fine! I’m sure, right?” She just needs medical attention… right? It’ll be fine! Stuff some food in her! Or something. Put a donut in that hole! Donuts are the best for hearts, right? He giggles uncertainly, springs winding and metal clanking but feeling so, so distant from everything, only able to watch the red red red as it washes away.

            It’s just a card it’s just a card it’s just a card it’s just a card it’s just a card… And he’ll say it until it feels true.

            It won’t ever feel true.

Chapter Text

            Jevil can’t believe it when he slips back in… somehow. Before anyone can miss him, he’s back by the queens’ sides. The Queen of Hearts is eating some tarts that are a lot more macabre than Jevil remembers them being. Were they always heart shaped and full of jam?

            “Want one?” she asks, seeing Jevil eyeing them.

            Such a sweet lady. Hopefully that was no one she knew. Calm down Jevil, it was just a low suited Hathy. Not like it was a Head Hathy, right? Oh shit, she’s expecting an answer.

            Jevil raises himself onto his tail and laughs, summoning a ring of hearts around himself, ignoring the way his insides, his gears, bits of metal bits of clockwork all just toys toys going round and round and round, skip a few ticks. “Nah, I’ve already got a baker’s dozen!” Wait. “Oop.” He throws one more in there, “There we go!” Now it’s thirteen.

            The Queen of Hearts snorts when she laughs and she has one of those overly loud, “ugly” laughs (ugly laugh? no such thing!) that comes from, well, from the heart. The other queens giggle along as Jevil tries to bite into one of the hearts, popping his head off and yelping in exaggerated pain. “Jeez, guess I really bit the bullet that time!”

            The Queen of Spades likes that one most, enough that she doesn’t catch herself soon enough not to laugh, but the Queen of Hearts doesn’t seem enthused. Right, dark humor isn’t her thing…

            Jevil pops his head back on and does a bow, “All in a day’s work, ladies and more ladies!” The butler, a Rudinn, doesn’t look particularly enthused. “Ah, my mistakes! Ladies and gentle snacks, boysenberry girls!”

            The poor Rudinn rolls his eyes and sighs, “(I don’t get paid enough for this).”

            For a moment, just a moment, everything feels normal and Jevil feels like hopping up and spooking him with some lazy joke about being too cheap to pay attention, but he takes a step and feels sick. Y’know, they all kind of look alike, don’t they? Lower cards, head cards… Sure the Noble Suits look different, but the lowers? Nah.

            He can’t even tell them apart from each other.

            Just interchangeable cards… And one of them out there knows what he did. And he has no way of knowing which one, because like an idiot he didn’t mark him and trusted a Rudinn to not sell him out. If anyone put a bounty out, well, he already gave away that money, didn’t he?

            This is silly, right? It’s a checker war! Checkers fight! A Hathy just happened to get caught in the crossfire. What a tragedy! Surely no one will realize that wound couldn’t be made by the blunt force of a checker… riiiight? Maybe she just, y’know, took a blow from someone trying to keep it under control.

            “Boysenberry girls! I get it now!” The Club queen’s right head says, laughing way too loud at the joke. That head’s sweet, but sometimes slow on the uptake.

            “Ugh, it’s not that funny,” the middle head says.

            “Is he okay?” Head three says…

            Fuck.

            “Aaaaw, worried about little old me? Such a charmer, m’ladies. You know, I do have four suits if you need an upgrade from Mr. Three Heads-”

            “OH MY GOD YOU’RE SO GROSS!” middle head screams to the amusement of everyone in the room, including her other heads. Ah, the perks of being Royal Fool. He’s pretty sure anyone else would get executed for that. Either that or start a war, if they happened to be high enough of suit. Or an ace, maybe. Aces were weird sometimes, but they didn’t really seem interested in games of that caliber.

            Good, he deflected that. Now to just get on with the tomfoolery and figure out how to properly hide the mess he made and-

            “Your majesties!” A Rudinn Ranger says, bowing at the appropriate distance with a scroll in their hand.

            Oh angel no. Whatever deity may or may not preside over their cursed toybox of a realm, Jevil prayed that it wouldn’t be the news he feared.

            But it was becoming increasingly clear that whatever being was tugging on their strings (or gears, in his case) found his suffering quite amusing as the Ranger announced, “There’s been a mass of deaths at the Great Board. We’ve managed to get the fighting to stop, but both sides are almost wiped out, and we lost two rangers in the crossfire. The Rudinn assigned to deescalate the situation has gone AWOL. And the Hathy…” His voice cracked, serpentine body winding around itself. “We suspect foul play. That injury wasn’t caused by checkers. She’s been murdered by someone else.”

            God. Fucking. DAMNIT.

            “Well…” Shit shit shit. “Nah, even I can’t joke about that.” He is so dead. “I’ll leave you ladies be.” Just get out the door, just walk down the hall, just hang off a window, perfect… “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Chapter Text

            After his cathartic scream out of a castle window, Jevil went to the stairways. He’s not fully sure which. But he does know almost no one uses these, not since they got elevators at least. But still, he found a nice crack in the wall  up high and jammed his tail into it, sitting precariously atop it. The lighting was bad even for the dark realm, hopefully no one would catch him here.

            “Alright think,” he whispered to himself before clapping hands over his traitorous mouth. If anyone found him, it’d be game over. Or would it? Who would know it was him? He was with the queens, clearly! How could he have murdered broken someone and then hopped right on up to play with the queens? He’s but a jester!

            Well, there was a witness, wasn’t there? But there was no telling who, at this point. And he could hardly murder every single low suited Rudinn. Right? That’d be even MORE suspicious.

            … but who said he had to be the one to do it?

            If that strange goat went up to that lighter realm and tore up all the diamonds, well, who would know? How could they? It’d just be ripped up pieces of paper, easily replaced. Just slot some more cards in! Or don’t! Who cares about cards when there’s who knows what else? Given how much that thing has tormented him, he likes to think it owes him. And hey, it sure didn’t have any qualms with him, so why would it care about tearing paper? It’d be so easy.

            No. Angel above no. What was he even considering? And why? These are people! He can’t just ask someone else to snuff them! And anyways, what if it doesn’t even work that way to begin with?

            No. No. Out of the question. How would he even know if it would listen to him anyways?

            Clop. Clop. Clop. Speak of the devil… Hooves come up the hallway and it seems to get colder. A deep, piercing cold that saps all warmth and leaves nothing but clockwork. It’s dark in here, getting darker, but it still stops right below to look up at him with its eyeless gaze, a grin pulling back its mouth and bearing fangs and nothing but dark. A twisted dark, different than the kind that gives him life and form… or is it? The more he looks, the less sure he is. Is it moving? Is it even alive? What is that thing?

            … his only source of answers, that’s what.

            “What are you?” he says, grin overtaking his face as stares back at it, wide eyed, refusing to break his gaze for fear something will happen the second he can’t see it.

            It just shrugs.

            His hackles raise and he stands on his tail, magic sparking in his fingertips. Spades and clubs and diamonds, hearts and knives, surely he could take it. He can do anything. Well, until it touches him at least, then he’s just gears and springs…

            “Are you a lightner, is that it?”

            It sits on a stone step, kicking its hooves, and again shrugs.

            “ANSWER ME DAMNIT!” he shrieks. Then his heart drops and he tenses, trying to listen for the army itself descending on him, but the whir of gears seem to take over his vision along with that stupid song. All around the mulberry bush…

            Forcing himself quieter, he spits, “Why do you keep coming after me?” The monkey chased the weasel.

            Again it shrugged, the blank little soul-tail waving about haphazardly, just watching him. The monkey thought it was all in good fun….

            His temper rose, insides grinding and sticking, magic sparking. This thing was the cause of all this, wasn’t it? How? Who cares! But once it was gone, it’d go back to normal! The hallway was deadly silent and so dark even he could barely make out its white-furred form. He put his feet against the wall, springs coiling. His aim had to be careful, but its soul was right there. It was a sitting duck, literally sitting! A little to the left… He starts wiggling his tail, trying to get it loose. His ears twitch, no one’s coming. Just the two of them.

            Alright then.

            He whispers, “Metamorphosis,” and slams down, slicing fur and flesh until he hit bone and it slumped. Its soul laid on the ground, still attached; its tail moved aside last second. And so did its left arm, no longer attached. It had folded forward, something that is not their darkness spilling from the wound, something that made the air stifling, smelling like buttercups and tasting of metal. Something that made his chest tight the second he turned back to his normal form.

            And then it moved, shaking itself off and standing up. It grinned at him and Jevil discovered what an ugly laugh sounded like, a rattling thing that sounded like something had crawled into its chest and made itself at home before dying, rattling and choking. But still laughing. It picked up its arm nonchalantly, and took a bow…

            Then took its turn, bounding forward once more and laughing when Jevil jumped away, tears in his eyes. He’d tried to kill a child now. No. Tried to kill whatever this was. And failed. And now it was after him, not slowed at all by its own insides smoking and gushing from its arm, far more than should fit in that small body.

            Fine.

            “You still wanna go, eh? YOU WANNA FUCKING GO?! Fine. FINE!” Jevil was beyond caring if anyone heard. Instead, the spades and clubs rose above him, hearts ringing around the thing, and a deck of diamonds in hand. With a wild laugh, he sprang forward… Pop goes the weasel…

Chapter Text

            Of course this would happen when Rouxls was supposed to be patrolling, OF COURSE. The Jester couldn’t start cackling madly any other time! What was it this time? Was he going to get a pie in the face then?! Was Lancer going to be hung from the ceiling again? Or perhaps they were all sharing some kind of great joke at his expense. Yes, the little fool seemed to like poking fun at him more than any other. The joker was useless, in his opinion, beyond useless! An active nuisance who oh so detested the rules and was allowed to get away with it! Truly, if he had his way, that little bouncing vermin would not be allowed to go where it wished with such impunity as it possessed.

            But alas, he had to investigate, did he not? Otherwise he might be fired. It might not be the most cushy career, but unemployment was truly a shame he would not subject himself too! Plus then he wouldn’t get to see Lancer as often, and who else would feed him worms?

            Rouxls rounds the corner, sniffing as he catches the smell of… flowers? How odd. Why is the royal fool cackling madly in the stairwell with flowers? (And why does he hear boss music?). He stomps down the stairs, making himself clear that he will NOT tolerate any japery! Honestly!

            A flying jester hits him in the face and he shrieks in a way that is totally not like a little girl. It is very manly, even if it is a high pitched shriek. He makes the rules, high pitched shrieks of terror are very manly and impressive now. There are now stairs in his back. Ow. With a long suffering sigh, he removes the joker from himself and brushes off. “Now honestlyth! What isth goingeth on here-EEEEEEE!” The joker kicks him as it tries to run, screaming, at Frisk, the odd child who had taken residence.

            Rouxls is having exactly none of that. Being at least twice as tall as anyone else in the hallway has its advantages, he grabs the bundle of fury easily. “Now really, what be-eth the problem here?”

            <Jevil’s being silly.> Frisk signs, lightly huffing in laughter while their heart-tipped tail curled about.

            “Well yes, he doth tend to doeth that.”

            “LET ME GO ROUXLS!” Jevil shrieks, twisting about like a wet cat.

            “Noweth really, what doth thou have against them? Just look at them! Harmless!” He gestured to the child. It looked like their clothing had gotten roughed up, but being a kid tended to do that.

            Jevil, chest heaving, looked at Frisk, curling up on himself while Rouxls held him by the back of his shirt. “Heh… Hahaha… Really now? I thought you’d been disarmed kid!” He started giggling madly, head in his hands.

            Rouxls quirked an eyebrow, not getting the joke. “Well, if thou art kindly done making a ruckuss.”

            “You’ve gotta believe me! They ain’t a darkner! Or a lightner! I don’t know what they are, but- but… I ain’t crazy! I ain’t! Please! Just let me go so I can get them to TALK TO ME! GIVE ME ANSWERS KID!”

            Frisk tilted their head. <I can’t talk.>

            “They art mute, fool,” Rouxls said, patience completely gone.

            “Hah… I… Are they? Everything felt fuzzy… I thought they were down an arm?”

            <I have a sewing kit.>

            “I would’ve done that for thee…” Rouxls says before turning and walking up the stairs.

            “Rouxls… Who the fuck you talking to Rouxls? Is it talking to you? It ain’t in your head, is it? It… it ain’t making the rules or somethin now?” The jester’s voice sounded odd, but Rouxls didn’t know how to respond. Jevil continued, “It ain’t normal. Please. Ya gotta believe me. Someone’s gotta believe me…”

            … he had gotten a feeling like that, once. But no matter, Frisk was a child of some sort, at least. “It doth not matter. Leave them be, and I’ll tell them to do the same.” Rouxls, at the top of the stairs, went into the elevator, pressing the button with Jevil and Seam’s room. He walked over and opened the door, trying to push the jester in.

            But Jevil pushed against him, digging his heels in and snarling up at him. “How was it talking with ya, tell me that first!”

            Rouxls sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “With hands.” And then he pushed Jevil in and left.