The rest of Ink’s week went smoothly, for all intents and purposes. Despite Physics and Math being hiccups along the way, her classes were mostly easy; the homework load began to lessen as the holidays drew near. In a week it would be Christmas, and no one wanted to be the ass who gave homework over the break. No one wanted to grade any papers, either.

Moreover, she had a chance to continue the interviews with some new faces, faces she didn’t quite expect to meet. Fluttershy, who was the student body’s resident animal lover and caretaker, had spoken softly to her but had done so in strong tones. Despite her shyness, she was able to provide an explanation as to what love was to her, relating it to animals and her care for them. Applejack and Rarity had been quick to join in, having their own pets, and Artifex chimed up for a few moments; up until then, Ink didn’t even know he had a cat.

Soul and Sunset still had to deal with Chemistry, and this was relayed to Ink by Artifex. She would not be able to talk to them this week; perhaps next week, if they managed to get their act together. She’d managed to talk to Sonata for a bit, but the ex-Siren couldn’t really help. She’d spent her entire life as an avatar of false love, so she couldn’t say she really knew anything. “But if it’s seduction you want, I’m your girl!” she’d nonetheless said.

Ink politely declined, though she did make a note of Artifex’s sudden blanching. He was probably thinking of some other ex-Siren.

She hadn’t written anything else after that one line, but that did little to deter her mood. Something inside of her had been unlocked, and this filled her with an incredible sense of hope. It was encouraging, no longer having a blank page; even more encouraging to feel that this was the first line she had so desperately needed, and whether it was by divine Providence or by chance’s doing, she was thankful either way, and positively glowed as she went about her week.

Not everyone was excited about that, though. And she had the distinct displeasure of having to walk with two of them on that Friday, December the 12th.

“One line?!” Hazel screeched as they walked down the sidewalk. Their feet stamped through piles of wet snow, and their breaths came as warm, opaque clouds. “That’s it?!”

“Yes, Hazel,” Ink said, “ ‘that’s it.’ ”

“How?! You had a week!”

“Some authors take all day to come up with seven words,” she replied. “Some take all day to place and move a comma.”

“But a week, Ink? A freaking week?! I did all that Physics stuff for a stupid sentence?!”

Ink stopped in her tracks. “It’s a good sentence. And it’s better than nothing.”

“It might as well be nothing!”

“That just goes to show how much you know about writing books.”

“Bakas, please, you’re both pissing me off,” Gaige said. “Could you both shut up before I suplex you into the ground?”

Ink winced. “Sorry, Gaige.”

“Besides, Hazel has a point. Even for you, this is slow.”

“What, are you saying I’m not fast?”

“Not in some areas.”

“If I ever write a grim story, I’m gonna base a character off of you and kill you off.”

“Love you, too, Ink.”

“I ship it!”

“Hazel, shut up.”

Minutes later, when all expletives had been reasonably exhausted and their faces were so heated that any falling snow melted instantly, they reached their destination. It honestly seemed like the kind of house you’d see in one of those Home Improvement magazines, with a red-tiled roof, recently cleaned. The driveway was clear, and a stone-brick walkway paved its way across a snow-covered lawn. The ordinary stopped there. The front had been decorated in fake bushes and faker Christmas lights that blinked like prismatic fireflies, almost as if there was a fault in their wiring. Someone had put wreaths on both the front door and the garage, but they were anything but ordinary; the one on the garage looked like it had been fished out of a dumpster, while the one on the front door appeared to have been burnt. On the front lawn itself, they’d put up lights and rearranged them to spell something. It took Ink a solid minute to figure out what.

“ ‘Praise Jesus’?”

Though not looking at her, Ink could practically feel Gaige roll her eyes. “It’s my brother’s idea.”

“I don’t think I’ve met your brother yet.”

“Count yourself lucky, then. If you think I’m crazy, he’s even crazier.”

“How much crazier?”

“If you take Hazel’s crazy shipping when Soul and Sunset show up, subtract the shipping part, and double it, you’ll have a fraction of how crazy Treble is.”

“... is that a big number?”

“Oh, right, you’ve never seen Hazel freak out over Sunoul.”

“It’s Soulset, Gaige, you idiot!”

“Baka, be quiet.”

They trudged up the driveway, being careful not to slip. When they reached the front porch, Gaige didn’t bother knocking. She swiftly knocked down the door with a kick.

When they entered, hesitantly, they heard a click of a tongue and a sweet and luscious voice say, “Goodness, Gaige. That’s the fifth door we’ve had to replace. Can’t you be a dear and just knock?”

“Sorry, mom. Gaige does what Gaige does.”

“Yes, well, Gaige does not quite have a high enough status to refer to herself in the third person.”

Out from behind the kitchen corner came Gaige’s mom. Ink had never met her, and seeing her now, she found her incredibly stunning. One word came to mind: voluptuous. It described everything about this lady, from her creamy face to her hourglass figure to the clothes she wore—they reminded Ink of ringleaders in a circus—and the makeup she applied. Even that violet top-hat of hers was voluptuous. In a way, she reminded Ink of Rarity, with an inherent beauty to her, but Rarity’s now seemed nubile and undeveloped; this woman was the pinnacle of mature beauty.

She must have caught Ink staring, for she suddenly giggled. “Oh my. I think your friends have found something they like.”

Ink blushed and turned away. She saw Hazel also blushing.

“Why don’t you introduce them, Gaige, sweetie?” the woman asked.

“Fine. Ink, Hazel, meet my mom, Moxi Mix. Mom, Ink and Hazel. There. Introductions done.”

Miss Moxi Mix let out a short exhale. “Always so blunt. You must get that from your father.”

She appraised them with a raised eyebrow. “So if you don’t mind me asking, why exactly are you here? Normally Gaige doesn’t have friends over. Unless they’re that Flash boy. Quite a catch you’ve got there, sweetheart.”

“Mom! Eww, why would you even say that?” Gaige tugged at her pigtails. “Look, they’re here because we have to work on something for a few classes, and we’re having a sleepover after that. Okay?”

Before her mother could get another word in, Gaige was gone, darting around the corner and heading into her room. Ink felt compelled to apologize on her behalf.

“It’s fine, dear,” Moxi said with a smile. “I’ve dealt with her at her very best and at her very worst. Trust me, when you become a parent to a teenager—a teenage girl, too—you learn to roll with the blows.” She winked. “Have fun, you two.”

She went back into the kitchen, leaving Ink and Hazel alone. They exchanged looks.

“She’s hot,” Hazel whispered.

“Shh! You don’t want her to hear that! Now, come on, let’s go find Gaige.”

She wasn’t hard to find. Somehow, she had the energy and speed to create a loud ruckus only seconds later. It sounded like an entire workshop had just opened up and was busily configuring and reconfiguring… something. Ink knew Gaige had an interest in mechanics and engineering, but she didn’t think the sounds would be coming from her room.

And her room wasn’t hard to find, either. They followed the sound up to an oak door, whose entire front was decorated in various Gaige-memorabilia. A poster of a cartoon— Ink vaguely recalled it being called an “anime”—was plastered right in the center, and someone had taken the time to cut out stock photos of skulls and had placed them on several of the characters’ heads. A sign was above both these things: ENTER AT OWN RISK, it said.

They heard gears being grinded, and Gaige cursing. There was beeping, like the beeping you’d hear in those Saturday morning cartoons with the ticking gag bomb. Or real bomb. With Gaige, it was hard to tell which.

Ink and Hazel glanced at each other. “You first,” Hazel affirmed.

“What? Why me?”

“You’re expendable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She nonetheless opened the door—and was greeted with a loud beep and a flash of red light. She screamed as something large charged towards her. Her hands came up to protect herself.

“Whoa! Deathtrap, calm down!”

The large “something” stopped. Ink’s hands slowly lowered. The red light had faded, being replaced with a blue light that she somehow associated with “scanning.” What she saw before her was a floating hunk of red-and-white metal that beeped softly, periodically. It stared at her with its one lens, waiting, and she, oddly enough, conjured up the mental image of metallic dog.

Hazel’s hands found her shoulders as she peeked out from behind her. “Oh!” she cried. “It’s Gaige’s robot!”

“Gaige has a robot?”

“Of course I have a robot,” Gaige said. “Why do you think I’m called The Mechromancer?”

“You’re called what?”

“You need to get out more. Or play some good video games. Go on the internet. Get laid.”

“I’m gonna go ahead and ignore that last one. Can we come in?”

“Sure. Deathtrap, move, please.”

Deathtrap beeped and stepped away. While Ink regarded him (could robots have gender?) warily, Hazel bounded past, seemingly undisturbed by the sight. “Wow! So this is your room?”

“Yeah,” Gaige said. “It’s not much. The one I had in Japan was a little larger.”

Breaking her gaze off of Deathtrap, Ink looked around. She didn’t think it was that small (it was probably bigger than hers), with Gaige’s bed taking most of the space. She was on it, fiddling with her phone. A desk, covered in an assortment of plastic figurines, sat by the side. The computer that resided in the center of it was dusty; it had been neglected for quite some time, though it did not seem to have been turned off. Posters, presumably from Japan and of Japanese things—she felt kinda bad for labeling them as such; a good friend would probably know what they were—hung all around the room, on the walls and even the closet door. The one poster she did recognize was of Eminem.

“You’re a fan?” she asked, gesturing to that poster.

“Y-yeah,” Gaige said, blushing.

She continued looking around, and her eyes settled on a picture frame next to Gaige’s bed. A familiar, blue-haired boy had his hands around her pigtailed friend. Ink smiled. Gaige saw her looking, and her blush deepened.

“Aw! That’s so sweet!” Hazel gushed.

Gaige got out of her bed and waltzed over to Deathtrap. She knelt down and fiddled with something down below. The robot let out a beep, and it’s lens changed from blue to green. It seemed docile.

Gaige stood. “Deathtrap gets a little cranky when he isn’t charged one-hundred percent,” she explained. “And he gets a little jumpy with new people. Sorry, Ink.”

“ ‘S fine. You can make it up to me later.”

“I won’t.”

“Worth a shot.”

Ink cracked her knuckles. “Okay. So. Homework. We’re gonna do that?”

“Might as well,” Gaige said. “I mean, that’s what I told my mom.”

“Couldn’t have just told her we were having a sleepover, huh?”

“Shut up. She’d get on my case and start teasing me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s bi, open about it, and flirts with just about anyone. Hazel, stop drooling. You’ll fry Deathtrap and then he’ll kill you.”

“But your mom is so—”

“And that’s all you’re ever going to say (thank you for cutting her off, Jarvy). Now, come on. Let’s at least try to get through the boring stuff first, then we can get on to the fun stuff.”

Despite her resignations, Ink couldn’t resist a crack. “Oh? The fun stuff? I wasn’t aware this was that kind of sleepover.”

“Baka! God, you can be just as bad as Artemis!”

Ink and Hazel sat down on the ground. Gaige joined them. “Who?” Ink asked.

“That white-haired guy!”

“There are a lot of white-haired guys.”

“Ugh! Your friend! Or boyfriend, I don’t know!”

“Oh, Artifex.” Ink paused. “Wait. We’re not—I deserved that.”

Gaige was cackling. “Yeah, you damn well did.”

Hours passed. Homework would have been a breeze, had not Deathtrap constantly bothered them. Strangely enough, he seemed fascinated with Ink, and especially with her hairbun, like it was some sort of anomaly that he just had to scan. She was hesitant the first time when he floated over and prodded her hair, but after a bit of reassurance from Gaige, tried not to let it bother her. Deathtrap was surprisingly gentle, curious; the analogy of a really smart pet became all the more believable. They heard Treble come home, but he only popped in once to say hello, and even that was brief. He was gone before Ink even thought to respond.

But, bar the distraction and Moxi coming up just to check on them, what homework they had to do was completed, and once they’d come down and had a quick dinner, they could get on with their sleepover.

“Sleeping bags?” Gaige asked, going down a list on her phone.

“Check!” Ink said.

“Extra blankets?”

“Check!” Hazel said.

“A bottle?”

“Check! Though, I’m not sure why you’d need it.”

“To play Spin the Bottle, of course.”

“There’s only three of us,” Ink noted.

“Four, if you count Deathtrap.”

“BOOP!”

“Moving on… did either of you bring the booze?”

Ink and Hazel exchanged looks. “Um, that’s illegal ‘cause we’re underage,” Hazel said.

“Pfft. Babies. Lucky for us, I have some stored under my bed—”

Moxi barged in. She didn’t have to say a word; just fixated Gaige with a raised eyebrow and a motherly glare that was both warm and cold. Gaige grumbled, before reaching under her bed and pulling out the bottle. Moxi shook her head and beckoned for more. After a moment, Gaige procured three other bottles, and these she handed reluctantly over.

“I won’t have you drinking underage while you’re under this roof,” she said with a huff.

“So if I do it outside of this home, it’s fair game?”

“Certainly. That also means I won’t save your butt when you go to jail.”

Gaige pouted. “That’s no fun.”

“It’s called being a mom, dearie.” Moxi looked over at the other two. “Do you two have any other alcoholic beverages I should know about?”

They quickly shook their heads no—Gaige muttered, “Traitors!”—and Moxi nodded. “Good.” She returned to a cheery tone. “Well, other than that, have fun, you three!”

The door closed, and she was gone. Gaige took out her phone again. “Well, time to cross that off… for now.”

“Where’d you even get that?” Ink asked.

“Treble?” Hazel hazarded.

“Hey, hey. Until you girls are willing to back me up and not give up the best part of a sleepover, then I’m not telling you anything!”

“So it was Treble.”

“Telling you nothing!”

They went down the list. Pillows, check. Pajamas, check. Toothbrushes, check. Phone chargers, check. A stash of dirty magazines—

“Uh—” Ink coughed. “—sorry, what?!”

“Nothing! Hehe, Treble must have put that there as a joke! That’s all.”

“I thought he didn’t have access to your phone.”

“Guess he broke in!”

“Even though its fingerprint-locked?”

“Shut up, Quillhead.”

Ink rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. Is there anything else on that list that we need? Anything that isn’t related to something akin to debauchery?”

“Big words, small girl.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“But you’re right. We’re done.” Gaige tossed her phone onto her bed, then bounced onto it. “Now we can start this sleepover just right!”

“And how do we ‘start this sleepover just right?’ ” Ink asked.

“We obviously need to change into our uniforms!”

“... so our pajamas.”

“Obviously! Get to it, you two.”

“Dibs on the bathroom next to the kitchen!” Hazel called, and she was already out the door before either of them could get a word in.

“Guess I’ll take the one down the hall,” Ink said.

“Just watch out for Treble,” Gaige warned. “Since he’s home.”

“Why? Is he a pervert?”

“Probably not. He’s got a girlfriend and all. Just get going, would ya?”

She went into the bathroom unscathed, changed unscathed, and emerged unscathed. Treble hadn’t come by, so he was either upstairs in his room or doing something else entirely to not be bothered with checking up on the two girls who’d essentially barged into his home unannounced. She didn’t know much about Treble other than the snippets Gaige had told her. Knowing now that he had a girlfriend, she wondered if she should interview him at some point; yet, heeding the warning regarding his craziness, she was having second thoughts.

Now she wore a simple, sleeveless nightgown. Its dark, slate body was topped off by teal frills. She took a moment to tie a ribbon around the collar, something her mother had said was never a bad thing to do, and left the hallway and headed back for Gaige’s room.

“Ooh,” Moxi said. She gave Ink a wink. “Very cute, dear. I see you have a good sense of fashion?”

“An adequate sense,” Ink admitted, blushing while rubbing the back of her head, “mostly thanks to my mother.”

“Mothers do know best, don’t they?”

Ink was about to go, when Moxi tapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, do you need something, Miss Moxi?”

“Two things, now. One: don’t call me that. Moxi will be just fine. ‘Miss Moxi’ makes me feel so old!”

“Oh.” Ink’s blush became crimson. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Now, the second thing—” She grabbed something from the refrigerator. “Here. Take these.”

It was a box. Ink looked at the label. “Um, ‘Choco Sticks?’ ”

“Gaige has a sweet tooth,” Moxi explained. “And she likes these a lot.”

“Isn’t it too late for dessert?”

“Ink, dearie, it’s never too late for dessert.” She batted a hand. “Besides, you could always just re-brush your teeth before you go to bed.”

Ink nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Miss—sorry, Moxi.”

“You’re very much welcome. Have fun!”

As she was going down the hall, Ink opened the box and tentatively took out one of the sticks. She chewed. It was sweet, like chocolate, and firm, like a pretzel. Hmm. Not bad, she thought, as she had another. Then another.

A fourth was in her mouth when she reached the door, and she stopped chomping down long enough to knock. “Gaige?” she said around the stick. “You done changing?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” She sounded a little ways off, but Ink thought nothing of it. She twisted the knob and opened the door.

“Man, these Choco Sticks are really good,” Ink said as she entered. She turned around to close the door, keeping her back towards Gaige.

“Oh? Did mom give you some?”

“Yep.” She crunched down on another. “Oh, I should save you some, shouldn’t I?

“Save me a couple.”

“What about Hazel?”

“What about Hazel?”

Ink giggled. “All right, fair point.” She took another stick and held it by the end. “Mmm. Chocof.”

“Hey! I thought I told you to save me some!”

“I can’t helpf it! If’s good.”

She heard Gaige stomp over, and Ink giggled again. She turned around, smiling—

Her eyes became as wide as dinner plates; her cheeks flushed. Gaige was right in front of her, and, much like that weird movie about the two dogs in love (she couldn’t remember the name at the moment), had decided it was okay to bite down on the other end. She held her wrists in place to steady her.

More pressing was the fact that she was naked.

Ink shrieked, jumping back and letting go of the sweet delight. Gaige unceremoniously ate the rest, smirking. She seemed self-satisfied.

“Gaige!” Ink shouted. “You’re—you’re—Oh my God, I am so sorry, I didn’t know, didn’t think—” She covered her face and turned away. The warmth emanating from her face burned her hands.

“Geez, Ink, what’s the big deal? We’re both girls.”

“Yeah, b-but—”

“We have the same parts! Did you need to check?”

“Aah! Gaige, stop talking like that!”

“What? Am I not good enough for you or something?”

“Wh-what? N-no! O-of course not, it’s just that—”

Ink risked a peek; she regretted it, eeping when she saw Gaige was still standing there in her birthday suit, her hands on her hips. “P-put some clothes on before Hazel sees you!”

Gaige came up behind her and rested her arms on her shoulder. “Aw, come on, Ink. Relax. It’s not like she’s going to come through the door right now.”

There was a knock; and Ink, fearing the worst, moved to stop the door from opening. But the door swung open, knocking her back. She fell into Gaige, and the two of them tumbled onto the ground, lying on top of one another.

There stood Hazel, dressed in a loose-fitting nightgown. “Hi, girls—” she began to say, only for her eyes to fall upon Ink and Gaige. They were not in the most “conservative” of positions. Ink was certain her blush could burn through the floor.

“G-girls? G-Gaige and I-Ink?”

Ink scrambled off of Gaige. “I-It’s not what it looks like!”

“You know,” Gaige said, “when someone says that, it’s definitely what it looks like.”

“Shut up! You’re not helping!”

Hazel’s eyes went blank. She moved her mouth up and down, but no sound came out. “I think we broke her,” Gaige said.

“We?! It’s your fault for not being dressed!”

“Yeah, well, you fell into me, and you just had to fall in such a way—”

“Put some clothes on, damn it! Before Hazel has a nosebleed!”

“Gaink.”

They both turned to the girl. “Um. What did you say?” Gaige asked.

Hazel blinked. “Gaink.” She smiled. It was big and wide, unnaturally so, like someone had taken her normal smile and ruined its proportions. “Gaink,” she said again, a little louder.

“Oh.” Ink stood up, raising her hands in surrender. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Hazel, please don’t—”

“GAIGE AND INK! GAINK! I SHIP IT! AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Ink slammed the door shut. It did nothing; they could still hear Hazel’s screaming, piercing through the wood like bullets. Ink covered her face with one hand. “Gaige. Please. At least put on some underwear?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll let her in, I swear.”

“... fine. Don’t peek. Unless you want to.”

Ink cracked open the door. Gaige hurried up changing.

That little bout of shipping had effectively exhausted Hazel. By the time it had reached eleven-o’-clock in the evening, she’d pretty much slipped into her sleeping bag, hair sprawled all around her, and was out of it. They chose not to disturb her—well, Ink chose not to. Gaige tried, but she managed to persuade her otherwise. Their planned “Spin The Bottle” game between the three of them would have to wait later on during the weekend, perhaps Saturday or Sunday.

The embarrassment from earlier had yet to fade. Ink could not look at Gaige directly without seeing the image of her nude before her. Try as she might to just accept it, she found it a dirtying and unwanted thought—though, she only half-admitted, it was hardly an unpleasant one. For her sake and for whatever remained of Gaige’s dignity, she chose to keep that thought locked away, and hoped it would never see the light of day. Now if only the blush from her cheeks would recede…

Gaige sat on her bed, fiddling with her phone, apparently not caring for the events that had just transpired; and Ink decided to somewhat follow her example. She was happy she’d brought more than just her homework for this sleepover. Reaching into her backpack and fumbling around, she took out her laptop and placed it down before her. The movement had apparently not disturbed the other girls, so she powered it up and found herself where she’d left off, on a familiar, no-longer-blank screen.

She fell in love once.

No comma. No title. No other sentence. It was short, sweet, simple; a concise opening. She allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction, only to realize that that satisfaction was to be killed off immediately; for now, she saw, she had to continue.

Ink pursed her lips and brought her hands up to her mouth in a semi-prayer position. Staring into the screen, she ran her eyes across the sentence over and over again until she’d not just committed it to memory, but to every part of her as well. The sentence made her body tingle. It felt right. It felt perfect for her story. She knew that. She knew that she’d touched gold with this one. But she did not know how else to dig, or where to dig. Her fingers tried to answer those questions by lighting upon the keys, but they applied no pressure; nothing else appeared. The page was blank besides that one, key sentence.

She wasn’t stuck; just worried. About what, she did not know for certain.

“Mmph,” she grumbled between her teeth.

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

Ink had to fight not to screech. She whipped around. “When did you get there?!”

Gaige shrugged. “Just now. Wasn’t too hard. The author had you pretty busy over there.”

“The author—forget it. Gaige, what are you doing?”

“Trying to help you, you baka. You looked like you were having a problem with your laptop.”

Ink turned back to her device. “Well, it’s not the laptop I’m having problems with,” she said, circling around the bit of black.

“Yeah?” Gaige leaned forward and placed her chin on Ink’s shoulder. Ink blushed as she smelled lingering shampoo. “Oh, so that’s the sentence?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. It really is tiny.”

“Hey! Small is sometimes good!”

“Not always. Just ask Treble—don’t give me that look!”

“You’re so weird and vulgar, Gaige.”

“Oh, I know. Move your cursor, would you? I want to read the whole thing.”

Ink moved it and Gaige leaned forward again. She was practically pushing her cheeks into Ink’s. “Have you no sense of personal space?” Ink wondered.

“Me? Have you seen Hazel?”

“Okay, you’re not as bad as her. But still.”

Gaige refused to budge. She read the sentence anyway, over and over again, and her lips were locked into a frown.

Ink cleared her throat. “So… what do you think?”

Gaige shrugged, her shoulders rubbing against hers. “I mean, I guess it’s not bad. I don’t really read romance books. Or books in general. Just mangas.”

“Oh.”

“If Hazel were awake, she’d probably say something more.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“So, what, you don’t know how to continue?”

“Yes and no. I know what I have in mind, but I just don’t know how to get there.”

“Well, what do you have in mind?”

“Just the usual. Guy and girl meet, girl falls in love unexpectedly, they start off as friends, something dramatic happens, and then… love or something.”

“Wow. Not even their names yet?”

Ink shook her head. Gaige actually gasped. “Seriously? What about their personalities?”

“Uh… that’s also a no.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Gaige pulled away, shut Ink’s laptop (“Hey! That’s kinda expensive, y’know!”), faced the girl, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “But that’s like the most important part of writing anything! The characters!”

“I thought the plot was—”

“No! The plot comes after you make the characters! You want to have people first, because without them, there’s no story! That’s manga-writing 101!”

“… But this isn’t manga-writing.”

“Look, they both deal with storytelling, so just roll with it. Okay?”

Gaige let go and sat down next to Ink. “Listen. You can’t go ahead with an action-adventure manga storyline if you don’t have the characters who are going to be caught up in the conflict. It’s the same with writing romance. You can’t go ahead with a romantic plot of any kind if you don’t have the people who are going to fall in love!”

“But I do—”

“All you have is a general idea! You don’t have any real people, you just have… have… caricatures!”

Ink blinked. “Uh… caricatures?”

“Y-yeah! Like, two-dimensional effigies of what people usually are like!”

“ ‘Effigies’ is a big word for you, Gaige.”

“Shut up! Look, the point is, you don’t have people in your story. You have essentially puppets. No one’s alive, no one’s unique. What you need are definitive characters who act as they are and talk as they are.” She jabbed a finger into Ink’s chest. “That’s what you need to do next. You need to make people.”

Then Gaige blinked. “Uh, I mean, that’s what I figure at least. Uuuhh…”

“I need to make people?”

“Wow. When you say it like that… okay, I know this isn’t like me, but I actually meant it metaphorically—”

“I get it, Gaige, don’t worry.” Ink turned away, lost in thought. She felt Gaige pat her on the shoulder, without anything left to say, and she heard her stumble into bed.

“If you need any more help,” Gaige said through a passing yawn, “just let me know. Always happy to help a friend out.”

Ink managed a smile. “Thanks, Gaige.”

“No problem, Ink.” She yawned again. “What are fellow female OCs for, right?”

Ink had no idea what Gaige was talking about, but before she could ask, Gaige was asleep. She wondered if she’d forced herself to stay up just to help her.

Her eyes lingered over the slumbering form of Hazel and the now-sleeping form of Gaige. Her mind turned over Gaige’s words.

It was dark in the room, save for the simple glow-light from Deathtrap. He was still beeping softly; Ink had forgotten he was there. He was watching her, rather calmly, and after a moment, he levitated himself over and provided a little wave of blue light.

“Oh. Thanks, Deathtrap,” she said, and he beeped in response.

She, after a moment, decided that tonight was a good night to forgo sleep and, after packing away her laptop, with Gaige’s words still tumbling in her mind, she took out a thin notebook and began jotting down some words. She’d continue into the morning, when light first broke through the curtain; and exhaustion would somehow not be felt. She was smiling; here was the fuel she needed.

Author's Notes:

So... this is probably the only time you'll ever see art in this fic. And certainly the only time you'll see art of this... magnitude.

Many thanks to Ragga_Muffin for creating it for me. Link to its source can be found here.