today we will ask questions such as “is this fanfic being written?” and while the answer to this question may be no, isn’t it beautiful to think about the sparkling cascade of emotions that follows that answer? the shower of being alive and having art that’s yet to be created? it’s like making yogurt actually. the longer you leave it there, the more it grows. and also it needs to stay warm
[I.D.: Little black pixel sketch of Mettaton in his Box form and Alphys; Alphys reaches out towards Mettaton with an anxious smile, as though to steady him; as he points towards the sky, rectangular, sparkling speech bubbles with hearts and exclamation points zig-zagging off him. End I.D.]
Seam’s head slowly rose from where it’d faceplanted on the countertop. “Mmm— hmm?”
“Good morning,” Tasque Manager repeated primly from where she was sitting atop one of Seam’s stools, her legs perhaps crossed and the yellow glow of her eyes meeting Seam’s gaze quite perfectly. “Just in time for our appointment.”
