#Snagging that meme though it turned out so much better than I could have imagined!!

[fruitcoops]

So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #anna #grace #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ocs #hattie #lion pride

[lazyfox411]

Zombie on the Doorstep

Requested by anon, from an ask meme! Fandom is rvb and it’s tuckington, since you let me choose and i am trash lol. Sort of a modern au, Wash showing up on Tucker’s doorstep with a broken leg and covered in little cuts. Thanks so much for sending in a prompt, I really appreciate it! So sorry it’s taken so long to get out, I’ve had a very busy time having to move out of my dorm because of these coronavirus precautions. If anyone else would like to send in a prompt, feel free!

Length: 1623 words

There’s absolutely nothing on TV. 

Tucker sighs, face half smushed into a couch cushion, arm extended to point the remote, and flicks through the channels one last time. Infomercials, the news, a documentary about gazelles or something, and a dumb zombie movie he’s seen about a thousand times. He settles on the zombies and ambles to the fridge for another beer. 

Spending Friday night by yourself, he decides, is the fucking worst. Ever since moving to this godawful town, leaving his friends behind and working a dumb nine to five office job, he’s felt like all the life is sucked out of the world. But he didn’t do this for him. This neighborhood is safer, schools here are way better, more expensive, but better, and Junior has made new friends and is happier than he’s ever been. 

Okay, so maybe not all the life has been sucked out, Tucker thinks, smiling at the family photos hung on the wall. Junior isn’t here tonight, though, he’s having a sleepover at his new friend’s house, and so Tucker is all alone, with nothing but a shitty beer and a shitty zombie movie to keep him company. He sighs again and turns the volume up, bright screen flashing around the dark living room. 

About halfway through the movie, Tucker is bored out of his mind and also debating whether or not to leave the comfort of the couch for a snack. Before he can choose, there’s a knock at the door, or at least something that sounds like a knock. It’s faint and uneven and makes Tucker wonder if it was just the wind, but no, there’s definitely a shadow swaying in the window.

He slowly makes his way to door, a little voice in the back of his skull telling him to grab something to use as a weapon in case it’s a zombie. 

What the hell? he asks himself. Get ahold of yourself, man, it’s a movie.

Still. He picks up his empty beer bottle. Grips the neck firmly. Just in case. He is a grown ass man and he is not afraid of zombies, he’s just. Being prepared, is all. He can’t believe he’s letting the dumb zombie movie get into his head.

The man behind the door, though he could be mistaken for someone doing his best impression of one, is not a zombie. Tucker blinks in surprise. “Wash?” 

Wash is the only person in this town who hasn’t treated Tucker like a shitty outsider since moving here. It may have something to do with people treating Wash like he is also a shitty outsider. Either way, Wash is about the only person even coming close to the friend territory for Tucker. He is also the last person Tucker expected to find on his doorstep. 

Wash staggers forward and makes a strained sort of moaning sound, and Tucker momentarily reconsiders the zombie theory until he gets a good look at Wash, leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing hard, and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He’s not the risen undead, he’s just hurt. Pretty badly.

“Jesus, Wash,” Tucker moves to support him and gently lead him inside, out of the cold. “What the hell happened, man? Are you okay?” 

He’s obviously very much not okay, but after Tucker gets him seated on the couch and he takes a few deep breaths, some of the colour returns to his face.

“I kind of, um…crashed my car.” Wash rubs a hand sheepishly along the back of his neck, a nervous habit Tucker’s noticed in just the short time they’ve known each other. With the other hand, he gestures outside, though the still-open door.

Tucker looks, and, sure enough, sees Wash’s little grey sedan a little farther down the road, rendered useless with its hood bent around a tree. There is a nasty curve in the road right there, and with the strong wind that makes it hard to even pull the door closed, it isn’t difficult to imagine what happened.

Wash is apologizing, talking too fast and moving his hands, embarrassed, saying, “I just knew that you lived here from that one time I dropped you off and I’m really sorry to bother you but I was just hoping that maybe I could borrow your phone because mine sort of got broken and I just need to call a tow truck and then I’ll be out of your hair—”

“Tow truck?” Tucker stares at Wash incredulously, who is still bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts on his face and is avoiding putting any weight on his visibly swollen left leg. “Tow truck?” he repeats, “are you out of your mind? Wash, you need an ambulance.”

“No!” Wash jumps up to put himself between Tucker and his cell phone sitting on the coffee table. He lands on his bad leg and nearly crumples to the floor.

Even as Tucker helps him back onto the couch, Wash is adamant. “No ambulances. I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Well you’re sure as hell not leaving this house, then, because I know for a fact you aren’t going to look after yourself.” 

Wash sighs and crosses his arms. Then he winces and uncrosses them

“You can stay here tonight,” Tucker offers, because he is just a nice person like that and definitely not because of the strange feeling in his gut that says he doesn’t want Wash to leave. For sure, it’s because he’s nice, and not that feeling, at all whatsoever. “Don’t worry about the car, we can deal with that tomorrow.” 

Wash looks up at him, dumbfounded. “A-Are you sure? You don’t have to do that, Tucker, really, I’m okay. I don’t want to impose.” 

I’m okay is possibly the most blatant lie Tucker’s ever heard in his entire life, but he doesn’t call Wash out on it. Instead, he says, “Dude, don’t use big words, I don’t know what they mean.”

Wash opens his mouth, probably to argue that impose is actually a relatively small word, but Tucker is leaving the room. He returns moments later with a first aid kit and a couple ice packs.

Wash tries to protest at that, too, insisting he’s fine.

“Shut up,” Tucker tells him, “I’m a doctor.”

Tucker is most definitely not a doctor, and Wash knows this, but it amuses him enough to listen and shut his mouth. He audibly holds back a groan as Tucker lifts his leg to prop it up on a throw pillow.

“I know, I know,” Tucker says, surprising even himself with how gentle that sounded. He quickly changes tone to, “But you’re supposed to elevate it so it doesn’t get all, like, swollen and shit.”

“You don’t sound like a doctor,” Wash informs him.

“Well, I don’t normally do broken bones. I specialize in love,” Tucker says, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. That earns an eyeroll and a soft smile from Wash, so he counts it as a win. 

He pulls out some band-aids and little antiseptic wipe thingies (okay, yeah, he’s really not a doctor), and gets to work tending the cuts on Wash’s face. The car window must have been smashed. He tries his damnedest not to make awkward eye contact with Wash while staring at his face. Wash does his part by focusing on a very interesting thread coming loose from the couch.

“There.” Tucker leans back and admires his handiwork, and gives Wash the ice packs to distribute them as he pleases. One goes to his leg, and the other, his ribs. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Wash says sincerely. “Thank you Tucker.”

Tucker feels a lot more flustered than he thinks he should feel, and nods, speechless, before retreating to the kitchen.

He roots around the refrigerator for some leftover pizza. He doesn’t have a whole lot of food in the house right now, but it’s better than nothing. He can guess with a fair amount of certainty that Wash hasn’t eaten yet today. Plus, it will be a lot harder for Wash to say things to fluster him when his mouth his pull of pizza.

He snags some pain killers, too. Wash will be too proud to ask for them, but he’ll appreciate them, Tucker is sure.

It occurs to Tucker that maybe Wash is a little farther into friend territory than he thought, since Tucker knows all these things about him. He decides not to dwell on that idea right this second. Or any future seconds.

He returns, hands out the snacks and medicine, and makes himself comfortable next to Wash on the couch. Wash is lying down, tips of his hair brushing against Tucker’s thigh. It tickles, but he doesn’t mind. He reaches over the back of the couch and snags a blanket, pulling it over Wash. Wash freezes, mid-bite of pizza, but doesn’t say anything. Tucker grabs his own slice and turns his attention back to the TV, to the stupid movie.

Wash nitpicks, highlighting details that are left out, and unrealistic stunts the characters are pulling off, tentatively at first, and more enthusiastically when Tucker doesn’t discourage it. Tucker jumps at the jump scare, it is indeed called that for a reason, and he feels Wash chuckle. It’s a nice feeling, even though it’s at his expense, and he thinks maybe the movie isn’t so dumb after all.

By the time it’s over, Tucker doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. He looks down at Wash.

“That,” Wash blinks at the TV as the credits roll past, “that was the worst ending, ever. Of all time.”

Tucker smiles. Wash smiles back. Tucker has seen the movie a thousand times before and hated it, but this time, he thinks the ending seemed pretty good.

#yay it's done!!! #thanks so much anon i hope you enjoy it! #red vs blue #rvb #my writing #agent washington #david washington #lavernius tucker #tuckington #can be platonic if u want lol #i had my ship goggles on bc once again #i am trash lmao #whump #hurt/comfort #injury #car crash #alcohol mention #blood mention #junior #idk what else to tag #if youd like something tagged let me know! #<3 #let me know what you think! #feedback is always appreciated

[fizzpixie]

LeviHan Highschool AU

Requested from @appleblondie0397

Is it bad that I initially imagined Levi as a hot senior boy and Hanji as one of  those lil freshman girls that he has a huge thing for? I’ve been seeing memes floating around about that lately.

They aren’t in this story tho I swear

I’m very excited about this prompt, thank u so much. This ended up being a lengthy monster because I got super into it so I kinda cut the ending a little short. 

Levihan Highschool AU Title: Prompted Request: Levihan with the context of them being in highschool and levi and hanji having a sleepover at Levi's place (doesn't have to be anything rated r or sexual) Summary: Hanji (a junior) is head over heels for the short boy (a senior) she sits behind in her literature class. Their friendship blossoms over the course of the semester, until one day he invites her over to work on an essay together. Little does she know, he has been paying close attention to her, too. Word count: 2882 Warnings: very seldom vulgar language, mentions of sexual themes (none related to levi or hanji)

“And remember, this is all due by next wednesday. Late work is unacceptable.” Mr. Pixis exaggerated as he passed out papers to the front row, having the front students cascade the worksheets down to the people behind them. Levi groaned as he slipped a sheet for himself when the pile came his way and handed the stack behind him without turning around. Hanji subconsciously took a sheet and passed on the stack. She stopped scribbling in her notebook, glanced at it, and then tapped Levi’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what did he say? I wasn’t paying attention.” Levi rolled his eyes.

“This sheet has the prompt for our next essay, it’s due this upcoming Wednesday--,” He paused for a fleeting moment after processing what she had said, then swiveled around to give Hanji a quizzical look, “now what on god’s green earth could possibly keep four-eyes from paying attention in class?” She was quick to cover the contents of her notebook from his unwelcome eyes.

“None ya.” She promptly responded. Hanji was pretty protective of her journal that she used for her advanced placement literature class. Inside she had spent a collection of hours doodling Levi’s name in little hearts within the page margins. Levi had tried to peek at it before, but to no avail. Hanji would always snatch it from his view and say ‘none ya’ as in ‘none ya business’.

Their literature class was small, with maybe a little less than twenty people in it. Their mutual best friend, Erwin, sat in the farthest front corner. There was no seating chart on the first day of school but it was created as soon as everyone picked a seat. Erwin showed up late for class on the first day of school. Hanji, on the other hand, strategically showed up to class as early as she could, then proceeded to drum up mindless conversation with the teacher until a specific person showed up for class. When Levi finally crossed the classroom’s threshold right before class started, Hanji prayed to the gods that he wouldn’t pick a spot where she couldn’t sit next to him. She abruptly ended her conversation with Mr. Pixis just to see Levi had picked an obscure spot completely shrouded by other classmates. However, she was fortunate enough to snag a spot directly behind him. It wasn’t ideal. She was typically the type of student to sit front and center to help her pay attention and perform better in class. But she had been eyeing Levi in the hallways all of last semester. When she found out they finally had a class together -- a literature class, of all things-- she was beyond thrilled.

Yes, Levi was short. But he was still entirely masculine. He fashioned a more casual-gothic look. Hanji couldn’t tell if it was unintentional or not, because naturally, his hair was darker colored and he was always a bit more pale with heavy eye bags. Though he did seem to have a preference for the color black. He often wore black skinny jeans and boots, but when he wasn’t wearing a casual t-shirt he would sometimes pose in a nice button up or polo. Whenever Levi wore his jean jacket, Hanji would melt. But despite her admiration towards the quiet boy in black, she had a deep sinking feeling that she wasn’t his type. It seemed unorthodox for an ambitious, overly intelligent, and reckless girl who followed her impulses to be his type. Not to forget, she was entirely loud and obnoxious. He seemed to like quiet and logical girls who kept to themselves.

They were coming up to the end of the second semester for summertime. Levi and Hanji’s friendship grew exponentially when they first met in Mr. Pixis’ notorious class of literature, all with Hanji’s efforts of initiating conversation with him. This was one of their final essays before their upcoming final. 

“Alright. Well, Miss. ‘None ya’, I’m getting some food with Erwin after class and then going home to start this essay. Would you like to come over to my place to work together?”

Hanji felt her heart skip a beat.

“Would Erwin be there?” Surely this was too good to be true.

“Nah. He told Marie that he would hangout with her tonight to catch up on homework. We both know what they’re actually gonna do, though.” It wasn’t. Hanji tried to act casual.

“I mean like, yeah, I’d be down to come over.” Levi gave a small nod with his head. The bell then suddenly blared, signaling the end of the school day. Levi stood and neatly tucked the sheet in between some folders in his backpack.

“Cool. You have my number, I’ll text you the address and you can come over around 9 or so.” Hanji glanced up at him.

“9? Doesn’t that seem a little late?”

“Yeah, my bad. I have a lot of errands to run after getting food with Erwin so I’m not free until then. Is that okay?” It wasn’t okay. Hanji prefered to go to bed at 10 pm sharp so she could wake up at 6 am and get a full eight hours of sleep.

“Yeah, that’s fine!” It didn’t matter. She had never been over to his house before. Looking back on it, she didn’t recall anyone ever going to his place before. Not even Erwin. She could afford to lose one night of a full eight hours.

***

Hanji parked in front of a busted apartment on the outskirts of downtown. She noticed how Levi lived an astonishing distance away from school. She checked her text again to reread the address, then scanned the address plate etched into the brick. She was definitely at the right place. She tried the front door of the apartment-- which are traditionally supposed to be locked at all times for residents safety-- that slid open with ease. Hanji also noted the gaping hole shattered in the glass on the side panel by the door, as  if someone had kicked it.

‘Okay, third floor, apartment 304.’ She anxiously thought to herself. With each creaky step up, her heart rate only got faster. The lights flickered inconsistently over her head, buzzing as if they would burn out any second. ‘I can do this. We’re literally just doing homework. I like homework. It will be fun.’ She tried to calm herself as she ambled down the dim hallway and approached his apartment.

She stood in front of the door for several seconds before knocking. She examined the walls and floors of the hallway. The walls were white and dirty with a checkered patterned accent on the baseboard. The floor was concrete. It felt like a poorly kept, horror movie hospital.

As she raised her arm to knock, the door suddenly swung open. Levi stood there with a large trash bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, hey Hanji. How long were you there for?” He paused, “actually, nevermind. I need to take out the trash really quick, but feel free to let yourself in and sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a sec.” He moved passed her and trudged down the hallway. Hanji didn’t say anything, and watched him as he disappeared beneath the stairs below. When she was by herself, she turned to face the entrance to his place and with a cautious step, she entered.

It wasn’t very big at all. At first she thought it was a studio apartment, but she then noticed a narrow hallways that branched off into three rooms with closed doors. She located the couch and sat down, setting her backpack to her side. To her surprise, the apartment was spotless. The floor was a dark grey carpet that seemed permanently stained with age, but there was a rug thoughtfully placed and vacuumed in the center of the room. The sink was free of dishes, the few pictures and decorations on the walls were symmetrical and clean. Even the kitchen counters had been polished. To her surprise, there were two glasses of water on the coffee table, resting on home-made cork coasters.

‘He got me water. That’s very nice of him’. It was a basic courtesy, but she appreciated it. She gingerly picked up the glass and took a sip as she examined more of the apartment. The walls were a dark green with wooden shelves that hung up and displayed odd ornaments, such as old weapons and antiques. As she continued to observe the base of the apartment, her eyes landed on a picture that was not like the rest. It was a portrait. A smaller portrait of a woman with raven hair and grey eyes. Despite looking tired, she was smiling. She seemed very happy, and she was incredibly beautiful. She also had a striking resemblance to Levi.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Levi came back into the room unannounced.

“Sorry about that. My uncle didn’t take out the trash like he said he would. He’s a bum.” Hanji chuckled.

“No it’s totally cool. I was just chillin’ here. Thank you for the water.” She remarked. He replied with a solemn ‘mhmm’ then found a spot next to her on the polyester couch. With how close they were sitting together, Hanji nearly died. He pulled out a cheap laptop from his backpack and proceeded to log on as he simultaneously checked the sheet with the prompt.

“Okay, so the prompt is ‘Life is full of opinions and people differing from you. Everyone has and will encounter times when someone they meet has a different perspective from them. What are  the most effective ways to communicate ideas? What do you do when those ideas aren’t relayed properly, then argumentation breaks out? When was there a time you met someone completely different from yourself? How did it turn out?’” He began to read, but Hanji had zoned out as he was speaking, staring intently at the portrait of the mystery woman.

“Who’s that?” Hanji blurted out and pointed at the frame. Levi glanced up at her.

“Who’s what?”

“That. That woman on the wall.” He followed her finger to the portrait.

“Oh. That’s my mom. My uncle happened to have an old photo of her, we don’t have many of them.” It made sense. He was a spitting image of her.

“She’s very beautiful. Will I ever get to meet her?” Levi responded bluntly.

“She’s dead.” Hanji felt the blood leave her face, making her grow pale.

“Oh my god, Levi I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t be,” he started, “she’s been dead for a long time. I think I was like, what, four years old? I don’t remember. Either way, I’ve healed from it now,” Hanji frowned. Even if what he said could be true, there is permanent damage when missing an important figure in your life. And it’s affecting him whether he knew it or not, “Anyway, we should continue. It’s getting late.

***

The antique clock on the wall read 12:04 pm. They had spent at least a full hour writing, but the last two hours were spent vicariously sharing stories and talking about unrelated things to the prompt. Hanji was learning a plethora of new things about Levi, and she couldn’t be more satisfied. She felt sadness swell in her heart when she peered at the clock. Her eyes were growing heavy, and she knew she couldn’t write anymore for the night. Nothing when she was tired was as quality as she would like. Levi was continuing a story.

“But yeah, my uncle can be an asshole sometimes. There was this one time when he stole my computer to watch porn on some sketch website and he infected it with 12 different viruses. It also wasn’t cool because he didn’t tell me he used it for porn, so when I opened my computer at school--”

“Hey Levi? I’m sorry to interrupt, but I really think I should go home, it’s really late and I’m incredibly tired.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” He glanced at the window to see rain pouring down outside. They didn’t notice it started to storm while they were writing.

Hanji packed her things slowly to relish her final moments in his apartment. She wasn’t too sure if she’d ever be here again. When she finished, she approached the door. Levi saw her out.

“Thanks for coming over, I think we got a lot done.” He thanked her as she stood at the door.

“Yeah, I think so too. Thanks for having me.”

***

Hanji dashed to her car parked on the side of the road to avoid getting wet.

‘I knew I shoulda got my keys out before going outside’ She scolded herself mentally as she desperately fished in her pocket to find her car keys, only to notice they weren’t there. She gave up trying to do everything with haste, being that she was already soaking wet. She knelt down to rummage through her backpack, but they didn’t seem to be there, either.

‘Maybe I left them in his apartment?’ She started to question herself as she peered inside her car window. She sighed in disbelief. She had locked her car keys inside of her car. The keys mocked her as they sat in perfect view on the passenger seat. Hanji, not really knowing what to do, took a slow walk of shame back inside the apartment to tell Levi. She trudged up the stairs and to room 304. She knocked quietly. Levi opened the door pretty quick with a confused look apparent in the bend of his brow as he observed her standing there, completely drenched.

“Is something wrong Hanji? Did you leave your keys here or something?” Hanji sighed.

“I wish. I locked them in my car…” She took a beat to think about what to say next. She didn’t think about what to ask him while she was walking up the stairs, “could you maybe drive me home?” Levi shook his head.

“That would be dumb. It’s pretty late and I know you get up in like 5 hours. Why don’t you just spend the night?”

Hanji had to take a second to process what he had said. Then another second.

“Your uncle wouldn’t mind?”

“Kenny isn’t home. He won’t be until tomorrow.” Hanji toyed with the idea in her head. She absolutely wanted to, more than anything. She didn’t even bother with the pros and cons, she just went with her impulsive gut.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

***

“Here, you can sleep in my bed. I’m familiar with the couch we have, anyway,” He guided Hanji through the hallway into the door on the right, “the bathroom is across the hall. The closed door at the end is Kenny’s room, don’t go in there,” He continued to instruct, “If you need anything let me know.” He handed her a small stack of dry clothes. Hanji set her bag down on the floor. His room was like the rest of the  place -- spotless, but a little worn with time.

“I feel bad that you’re sleeping on the couch.” Hanji started.

“Don’t,” he paused for a moment. They shared the silence for a beat, “but keep in mind, I don't have to use the couch.” Hanji didn’t physically react to his proposal, but felt like her stomach was knotting itself.

“You mean like, sharing the bed?” Levi scoffed.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, four-eyes. Yes, we can in fact share the bed. There are no physical limitations to us sharing a twin sized bed--”

“Oh, shut up. I know there aren’t any physical barriers, but it just feels, I don’t know, intimate.” Hanji felt her face going pale. She was making a fool out of herself. Levi crossed his arms, with the faintest shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, darn. Now what ever will we do? We don’t have to, of course. It’s just a suggestion.” He reminded her. Hanji didn’t want to give herself time to think about it, knowing she would over analyze the situation. It was just a night of sleep.

***

Underneath the sheets, Hanji curled up into a ball. Levi was on the other side of her, their backs touching each other as they were facing away from each other on the tight bed.

“Thank you for the dry clothes.” She said as they lay in the darkness in silence for a little while. She was sporting a pair of his old grey sweat shorts and a baggy band t shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t want you getting my bed all wet.” She was aware. But despite being in dry clothes and wrapped in sheets, she was shivering cold. Levi could feel her body tremble next to his.

Without a word, Levi rolled over so he was facing her back, and slowly snaked one arm over her waist and another underneath her pillow to wrap himself onto her. Hanji completely froze at the abrupt feeling of warmth pressing onto her back and legs. Levi noticed her quivers completely cease.

“Are you okay with this?” Hanji noted how he noticed she was cold. She didn’t smile, but instead felt her arm search for his, lacing her fingers with his warm hand. She was entirely grateful.

“Yes. Definitely.”

#i kinda feel like levi would be an eboy in highschool #but like #unintentionally #im sorry this is so long wtf #but anyway aren't they just the cutest #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hanje zoe #corporal levi #lance corporal levi #rivalle ackerman #Levi Heichou #levi #levihan #hanji #levi x hanji #hanji x levi #levi ackerman x hanji zoe #hanji zoe x levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levihan fanficition #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan imagines #erwin smith #dot pixis #eren jaeger #armin arlert

[banesapothecary]

I’m so furious (at you for making me feel this way) - an enemies to friends to lovers birthday fic for @lightwormsiblings 💖 

read on ao3

“The grump is in this class,” Magnus whispers to Maia as they take their seats. It’s the first day of classes, the new semester ripping them away from the sanctuary of winter break with the promise of boring first lectures and slowly going over the syllabus in every single class.

Maia snorts, zeroing in on Alec Lightwood, the grump himself, instantly. Magnus had shared an 18th Century English lit class with him the semester before, and the experience had been enlightening, to say the least. The grump hadn’t liked a single text they’d read last semester. Granted, the Enlightenment wasn’t Magnus’s favorite period of literary history, either, but they were English majors and how does someone not like a single text out of about twenty? And not to mention, every time he spoke in class was downright pessimistic and cynical and very much the definition of brooding. Magnus really doesn’t know how Alec didn’t like Pride and Prejudice. The grump was basically Darcy.

“Great,” Maia laughs, pulling a notebook and pen out of her bag. “Now I can finally experience him first-hand instead of hearing you complain later.”

“Oh, you’ll definitely still be hearing me complain later. You can commiserate with me now, though,” Magnus says helpfully, earning a groan.

The rest of the class fills pretty quickly, but Magnus hasn’t looked away from the grump. He probably should, he thinks. The grump doesn’t deserve his time, nor his hatred. It probably wouldn’t affect him in any way, Magnus thinks with a frown. That simply won’t do. Magnus wants to be a thorn in the grump’s side for no reason other than he simply just doesn’t understand how someone can dislike absolutely everything.

Finally his attention is diverted when the professor enters the room with the syllabus papers tucked under his arm.

***

The semester is both remarkably and unsurprisingly just like the previous. Mr. Grump never seems pleased by anything they read in class, which Magnus simply cannot fathom for this course. Modernism is an odd period, but it’s eccentric and mocking and full of contradictions. It has dadaism for god’s sake. How could anyone not be happy to learn about the art movement that eventually evolved into memes?

Magnus needs to this man to crack. He needs to find out what makes him tick, what makes him so much as smile.

“It can’t possibly be healthy to frown that often and consistently,” Magnus tells Maia a few weeks into the course. Maia simply rolls her eyes, turning back to Professor Garroway’s powerpoint on The Importance of Being Earnest.

“Alright, everyone. I’ve assigned discussion groups for today and a series of questions for you all, and then we’ll come back together and hear as many thoughts as we can before class is dismissed,” the professor says, earning a mixture of sighs and groans from the class.

Professor Garroway runs through the names, sending Maia off without him, Magnus notes glumly. His own name isn’t called until the final group. He sits up sharply, eyes squinting a bit in dismay as he realizes the grump hasn’t been called either.

“Alec, Magnus, Raj, and Grace, you’ll be the last group.”

With a resigned sigh, Magnus stands and joins the rest of his group, refusing to so much as even look at Mr. Grumpy Pants. Instead, he focuses his gaze on the sheet of discussion questions.

“‘Discuss Wilde’s interest in the duality of the self,’” he says, reading off the first question to the group. “Well,” Magnus starts, “he was a gay man in a time that homosexuality was a punishable crime. He certainly spent much of his life hiding that aspect of himself from others.”

“He was caught, eventually, though.” Magnus’s eyes snap up to meet Alec’s. “He went to prison and died shortly after his release,” the grump continues. Of course, he went pessimistic. It’s a fact, though, and Magnus really, really shouldn’t be this annoyed. His blood boils.

Raj slides the paper away from Magnus to peek at the questions. “‘How is Wilde’s interest reflected in texts like The Importance of Being Earnest and The Picture of Dorian Gray?,’” he reads.

“In Dorian Gray, his misdeeds are literally reflected in the portrait,” Grace says. “He doesn’t age, but the portrait gets uglier and uglier.”

“Same,” Alec mutters under his breath, earning a snicker from Grace. Magnus just stares, unable to form words. The grump just joked. It was self-depreciating, sure, but he joked. Magnus wonders if he’ll see pigs flying around if he were to look out the window.

“In Importance of Being Earnest there’s lots of great polite but exceedingly petty scenes,” Raj says. “Like the tea scene with Cecily and Gwendolen.”

“The sugar!” Grace exclaims. “That was iconic. Do you think Wilde was petty like that?”

“I sure hope so,” Magnus laughs. “Can you imagine? The man wore a purple velvet coat. Wilde must’ve been wild at parties, if you know what I mean.” Alec stares at him, as if he can’t quite believe Magnus made such a ridiculous joke. Maybe that’s how he can get under his skin, Magnus thinks for half a second. Maybe the grump despises puns. Magnus certainly wouldn’t be surprised.

But then the grump surprises him. Alec laughs. He tries to hide it in his arm, but he can’t stop the shaking of his shoulders or the gleam in his eye. Alexander Lightwood, the grump to end all grumps, laughed. At a pun. And not even a good one, Magnus thinks.

Before he can say anything else, Professor Garroway calls everyone back to attention. The rest of the class passes quickly as each group shares. “Don’t forget about the exam on Monday,” the professor calls as they all head for the door.

Magnus snags Alec’s arm before he can think better of it. Alec turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee and study together sometime this weekend? Maia and I were planning to camp out in Java Jones, if you’d like to join us.”

Alec hesitates for a moment, opening his mouth in silence. Finally he nods. “Yeah, that’d be great actually.” He gestures to Magnus’s phone. “I can give you my number, so we can figure out a time.”

***

Alec’s smile is beautiful. Magnus notices every time he sees him now. He can’t believe he never noticed before. There’s so much more to Alexander Lightwood than just a grump, and Magnus is grateful to have learned it.

He just hopes Alec feels the same way.

They’ve hung out several times since that first study session, getting coffee or lunch occasionally. Just as friends, but Magnus is beginning to think he wants more. He doesn’t want small, polite, friendly smiles from Alexander Lightwood. He wants so much more. He wants a smile that’s just for him, one that speaks of trust and affection and maybe even love.

Hatred walks a fine line from love, Magnus has realized over the last few weeks. Maybe if he’d paid better attention in his literature classes instead of shooting glares and imaginary daggers at his grumpy new friend--crush, he thinks immediately--he would’ve seen that a long time ago.

Now he’s standing outside of Alec’s apartment, hand raised to knock but not quite ready to connect with the door. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slowly exhales and tries to ground himself. His heart feels as though it’s about to lift off. “You can do this, Bane,” he mutters to himself.

It’s not like he hasn’t faced rejection before. It’ll hurt, and he knows that, but he’ll be okay, won’t he? He survived his last breakup, survived the gifts of pain and feelings of inadequacy that she’d given him when she left and twisted in the knife. He could certainly handle Alec Lightwood rejecting him. Hatred and love, he thinks again, almost making himself laugh at the thought of referring to him solely as some variation of “Grumpy” again.

He knocks before he loses his nerve and the door swings open a moment later. Alec’s eyes widen at the sight of him.

“Magnus, hey,” Alec says. “What’s up? We weren’t supposed to meet for coffee, or something, were we?” There’s a slight tinge of worry in his voice and Magnus’s heart feels soft.

“No, but I, uh...I wanted to ask you if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” Magnus asks, hating how nervous his own voice sounds.

“Yeah, sure,” Alec answers immediately, like it’s no big deal. “Why couldn’t you just text me?” he asks and Magnus realizes. Oh. He doesn’t know I mean—

“No, I meant, uh...I meant like a date, Alexander,” he says, already preparing himself for the worst.

He doesn’t need to worry, though.

Alec’s smile consumes his face, eyes lighting up in a way that’s almost disbelieving. He reaches out and takes Magnus’s hand in his own. “Oh, well the answer is absolutely, then.” My very own Darcy, Magnus thinks.

#malec fics #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters #my fic #lightwormsiblings #zia!! happy birthday ily!!

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 15/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus, ensemble Chapter Warnings: none 

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Epilogue - Family

They say time flies when you’re having fun.

If that’s true, you must have been having a skeleton of fun, because the next few years feel like they’ve breezed right on by.

You finally pulled the trigger and moved yourself in with the brothers after a lot of encouragement and not-so-subtle hints.

You were right, it didn’t really change anything, except that now when you come home after a long day, you have your dog right there waiting for you and roughly eighty percent of the time, a delicious home-cooked meal from Papyrus instead of something you have to toss in the microwave or eat right out of a bag.

When you find a particularly rib-tickling meme in the middle of the night, you no longer have to text it to Sans to share it. All you have to do is give the big skeleton next to you in bed a little nudge, and you get to enjoy the wonderful sound of his sleepy chuckle in person instead of just an ‘lol’ on a screen.

It’s not a big difference, but it feels like an important one.

Nothing much has changed at the shelter either, excepting maybe your promotion to assistant manager.

When your boss had first pulled you into her office and offered you the change in position, your instinct had been to turn it down. You were just a worker, after all, and ‘assistant manager,’ well, that sounded important, not something you could do…

Except you’d started working on that a lot lately, recognizing your own self-deprecating thoughts as you were having them and shutting them down when you could.

Papyrus had been a huge help with that once he’d noticed it was something you struggled with, and he had actually let you in on some of the techniques he used to power through similar feelings.

The most helpful had probably been when he told you to, “Imagine Those Thoughts Are Coming From Somebody You Loathe With Every Fiber Of Your Being! That Way When They Tell You That You Can’t Do Something And You Do It Anyway Because You’re Super-Cool, It’s Like You’re Proving Them Wrong And Rubbing His Gross, Greasy Face In It, I’M AMAZING, JERRY, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT AND YOU CAN’T HOLD ME BACK!”

You’d only asked once who the hell ‘Jerry’ was, in the middle of a Grillby’s date.

Every single monster in the vicinity, even Sans had just grimaced and looked away, pretending you hadn’t spoken and eagerly leaping onto a different subject.

You decided that maybe it was better you didn’t know.

In any case, with Papyrus’ advice in the back of your mind, you managed to accept your promotion with hesitant grace and to your pleasant surprise you were able to handle it just fine.

You already did so much at the shelter that the new job title barely added a handful of responsibilities that your workaholic self wasn’t already doing, and certainly nothing you weren’t capable of getting the hang of quickly. You make a little bit more money now and you have more control over your own hours than you ever did before, which is a very nice perk!

Actually taking time off for yourself…that’s admittedly still a work in progress, but you’re lucky: if there’s one thing your Sans is good at, it’s knowing when you need some self-care time and he’s always ready to con sweet-talk you into taking a break now and then.

You’re actually taking the day off right now, though not because of Sans.

Today is for Papyrus, because after years of study and hard work, your favorite skeleton has made it—finally about to become a boneafide nursing school graduate!

…Pap refused to speak to you for a solid three hours after you made that joke.

Sans, on the other hand, looked at you like he might legitimately cry over it.

His emotions had been pretty high lately, actually, what with his little bro’s big accomplishment and it seems like all the pride and joy in his soul the past few weeks has left him just a teensy bit of a walking disaster.

He can barely focus on anything else for the life of him, so this day off of yours was kind of a necessity. Sans is in absolutely no state to be remembering things like finding the camera, making sure it has memory, ordering the most gaudy and colorful bouquet you could possibly find, figuring out the itinerary…

You handle all of that for him so that all your scatterbrained bonefriend has had to do for the past two weeks was gush to literally anyone who stood still longer than a minute—friend, acquaintance, or complete stranger—about how his bro was graduating and isn’t he just the coolest?

With the way he’s been talking it up, you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if half the shelter staff showed up, plus the entirety of monsterkind.

You hope they all do come: your Papy deserves as much recognition he can get!

-

Sans shortcuts you onto the neatly manicured lawn of Papyrus’ campus, not far from the auditorium where the little ceremony is going to be held.

He’s practically vibrating with excitement and it’s so different from his usual chill persona that it makes you laugh.

“Are you actually gonna be able to sit still the whole time?” you ask with a grin.

“what?” Sans barely glances at you, smoothing his clothes down a little. He processes your question belatedly and when he’s done buffering, he huffs. “oh. pfft. i’m fine.”

He’s back in that tie/sweater-vest combo he wore on your first date—the only ‘nice’ clothing he owns, you think—after Papyrus begged him to please, please not embarrass him by wearing that ratty old hoodie of his.

You’re a little dressed up yourself and so is the dog between you, Buddy in a novelty bone-print bow-tie and a knock-off service animal vest that had been bought online at the last minute.

He hadn’t earned it with any kind of training. It was just a way to sneak him into the place and keep people from questioning his quadrupedal presence, thought up because if there was anybody who looked like they needed a support animal, it was Sans with the giant, debilitating-looking hole in his head.

You weren’t sure you were a hundred percent on board with the deception, but both of the brothers had outvoted you on this one: Buddy was family, too, and he should be there to see Pap graduate!

Sans had (mostly) eased your concerns by pointing out how well-behaved and unlikely to cause a scene your son was, and also by promising that you could leave to escort him out if there was any kind of trouble.

Buddy is so calm right now that you're actually starting to think there won’t be any trouble.

It’s only Sans you’re still worried about.

“Are you fine?” you have to wonder teasingly. “You know Pap’s not the only one graduating, right? We’re gonna have to sit through speeches and other graduates, real boring stuff.”

Sans rolls his eye-light at you. “duh. why do ya’ think i skipped my own graduation? ya’ think i’m gonna waste my whole day at a snoozefest? keep dreamin’.”

Your laugh turns to a soft, affectionate smile as he duly continues, “but this one’s for pap. i don’t mind doin’ it for him.”

What a sweetheart…

You pass him the camera, knowing he’s going to want to be the one to record everything, and with your lightened burden of only flowers and a dog leash, you start walking.

“C’mon,” you say, “we better get in before all the good seats are taken. Unless you want to try taking video from the nosebleeds?”

Sans looks mortally offended by the very notion and follows right after you with an indignant little, “how dare you,” that gets you snickering all over again.

In spite of your warnings about boredom, you’re pretty excited for this, too.

You get to be present for a huge moment in the life of somebody really important to you, with just about everybody else who’s important to you by your side.

It’s a momentous occasion and you can’t wait to see it.

-

Turns out getting in early was a good idea—the auditorium is quickly packed with people, mostly humans come to see loved ones graduate, but also monsters, and lots of them.

You remember learning from Sans that monsters are made of love and compassion and you see it now in spades as all the familiar faces pour in and take seats toward the back or choose to stand, perfectly willing to give priority to people who had actual family in the ceremony but still wanting to be here to show support for one of their own.

You wave hello to everyone you know from your seat and beside you, Sans just beams.

Another thing you were right about was the boring speeches.

There’s two separate addresses once everything gets underway, with the usual types of academic buzzwords liberally tossed about: hard work, dedication, responsibility, ambition…

Sans dozes off halfway through the first one and you just barely manage to snag the camera back from him before it falls out of his lax grip.

You decide to let him sleep, though, knowing it’s not going to get more interesting for awhile yet and what Papyrus doesn’t know won’t earn Sans a lecture.

For his sake, you hope his quiet snoring is too soft to be picked up by the recording. If it isn’t…

Well, that’ll at least be funny to find out when you play the video back later!

It’s not until they finally get to the heart of things, calling up the graduates for their photo-op walk across the stage, that you give Sans a gentle elbow to the ribs.

He snorts awake and gives an appropriately sheepish look to your teasingly raised eyebrow, but he also leans over to nuzzle your cheek as he takes back the camera with a grateful little, “thanks,” that melts your heart.

You spot Papyrus well before it’s his turn, standing off to the side in the line-up. He’s simply too tall and noticeably nonhuman to be missed, especially among his slightly younger and much smaller peers.

He’d done such a good job of being all cool and unaffected in the days leading up to this…but not anymore.

Even from here you can see Pap struggling not to cry a bit at the sight of just how many of your friends had come out to see him today.

Sans’ eye-sockets are starting to look suspiciously wet, too, and if it weren’t for that ‘Don’t Embarrass Me’ promise he’d made, you have a feeling he’d be on his feet bragging to everyone around you about how that’s his brother! Get a load of that skeleton! Ain’t he the coolest?

When it’s Papyrus’ turn to cross the stage and accept his window-dressing diploma, Sans is back to nearly vibrating and you clap as hard as you can on his behalf.

He surprises you, though—holding the camera steady in one hand, he puts the phalanges of the other between his teeth and defies every rule of acoustics and logic itself with a loud, impossible whistle that pierces the auditorium even through all the applause.

You smile when Pap’s skull swivels right over to where the two of you are sitting and he scowls at you in that unique, ‘I Cannot Believe You Right Now’ way of his.

But then he looks…surprised.

And then happy?

Happier, anyway.

You wonder why the change of heart, but they’re already calling the next name and he’s walking back off stage to let all the other grads have their turn in the spotlight, too.

Sans pauses filming and turns to you, grinning so wide you’re surprised his mandible is still attached.

“you know what this means, right?” he asks in an eager whisper.

No, but you think you can guess.

Still, you want to hear the punch-line, so you ask, “What?”

“Pap’s a nurse now—he gets to call the shots.”

“Pfft! Do not say that to him today!”

“why not?” Sans scoffs, feigning realization. “oh, you’re right, no job yet. he wouldn’t have the patients for my jokes.”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles.

“Shhhhhut up…!” you hiss.

He sighs. “guess ya’ don’t wanna hear the one about surgeries, huh? ah, suture self.”

Damn him.

Damn him, you are trying to be courteous to everyone still trying to pay attention to the ceremony, but judging by the amount of whispering and secretive glances in your direction you must not be doing a good job.

……Or so you think, until Sans goes very, very still beside you.

“Babe? …Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer you, which is concerning.

Concerning enough that you frown and follow his gaze, just behind you to the very back of the auditorium where…

Oh.

Oh stars.

There’s another familiar face in the room today, but this one you’d only ever seen in pictures, maybe once in some distant footage aired in the news, right when monsters had surfaced.

You understand that surprised look on Papyrus’ face now, and the wide-eyed stares and whispers from the people sitting around you.

Even shadowed and silent, flanked by armed guards, Queen Undyne cuts an incredibly imposing figure in person.

Former queen, you suppose, but her very bearing could only be described as regal…or maybe military. She’d captained the Royal Guard once and you can see that now in her posture, parade rest if not for her hands cuffed in front of her instead of behind.

Her expression is stony and utterly unreadable to you, but there’s only one reason she could possibly be here, today, and he’s probably ecstatic backstage right now waiting to come greet his oldest friend.

And his brother is here next to you, hands starting to tremble as he stares blankly at the woman who broke his head and Papyrus’ teeth all in the same day.

“Oh, stars, Sans, are you…? Do…do you—”

You cut yourself off as Sans suddenly moves, taking the dog leash out of your hand. Buddy, lying obliviously at your feet, perks up a little in curiosity.

“gonna…take buddy out for awhile,” he says quietly. “back later.”

And with that, the seat beside you is empty, just you and the vibrant bouquet of flowers in your lap.

…Oh, boy.

-

The ceremony can’t end quickly enough.

It’s a struggle to remain politely seated through the rest of the proceedings and when it all wraps up and people start to get up and mill about, you can’t help but feel a little lost.

You can’t see the ex-queen anymore in the crowd, but you also can’t see Sans or Papyrus and you’re not sure which of them needs you more right now.

It’s a tough choice, but in the end you settle on Papyrus—as much as you love Sans, it’s Pap’s day and he needs to get these flowers and a ‘congratulations’ straight from your lips.

Plus it’s not like Sans is alone right now. He took your ‘service dog’ with him and Buddy is probably getting some on-the-job training about emotional support right about now.

They’ll be fine.

It takes some searching, but you do eventually find Papyrus…and you’re not the only one because Undyne is there, too, listening patiently to whatever Pap is talking about with such broad and animated gestures.

You stand there for a long, indecisive moment.

Should you…just go over there and…interrupt? Wait until they’re finished?

…At least one very cowardly part of you thinks Sans had the right idea just peacing out like he did.

Even this close, Undyne is beyond intimidating, as massive as Papyrus with none of the gentle friendliness to soften it and not even the orange prison jumpsuit she’s wearing can cover all of her sharpest features—spines, scales, teeth, all razor-sharp and terrifying.

(You wonder if the officers escorting her here today would stand any kind of chance if she decided to escape custody, even with their side-arms.)

Ultimately, the choice of what to do is taken out of your hands.

Papyrus spots you and calls your name, eagerly waving you over, and well…

Here goes nothing.

You walk over with your best winning smile, presenting your bouquet to the new grad.

“Happy graduation, Pap!” you say brightly, feeling one yellow eye burning through you. “We’re so proud!”

Papyrus takes the flowers with a crinkle of the plastic around them, looking like he’s ready to start sparkling any moment now. “Thank You! Wowie, I’ve Never Seen Glitter On Roses Before!”

“Sans’ idea,” you admit.

“Oh!” Papyrus frowns, seeming to notice his brother’s absence. “Oh, Is He…Did He…?”

Need to go get some air because Undyne was here and he hasn’t forgiven her, but he also wanted to let Papyrus have a moment with his friend on his big day?

Probably.

But what you say is, “He went to take Buddy outside. He said he’d be back, though!”

You trust the sharp and clever Papyrus to be able to read through the lines, and by the relieved and undeniably fond smile on his face you’re pretty sure he understood.

The amused-sounding snort from Undyne suggests he’s not the only one.

Papyrus perks up at the sound, suddenly tugging you closer. “Stars, I Almost Forgot! Human, This Is My Friend, Undyne! Undyne, This Is Sans’ Human, I’ve Told You About Them Before!”

You crane your neck, meeting the fish-monster’s piercing gaze for the first time. She certainly doesn’t look very impressed with you, making no move to offer you a hand to shake or even speak.

Considering her history with humans…you’re not surprised.

Still, Pap is watching you expectantly, so you smile and introduce yourself, saying, “It’s nice to meet you!”

Is it, though…?

Maybe. Maybe not.

You know this person by reputation only, and the brothers’ opinions on her are from two opposite ends of a spectrum. You don’t know her for yourself and all you have to judge her on is her actions.

You know what she did to Sans and Papyrus. You don’t like that at all.

But the sight of her standing here in flimsy handcuffs that she could probably break just by flexing a little too hard…it reminds you that she chose to wear them so that Sans wouldn’t have to.

And the fact that she’s here is a whole other layer. How hard must it have been to finagle something like this? You can’t imagine how frustrating and redundant the maze of human politics and legal proceedings must’ve been, even for someone with literally royal clout, trying to arrange leave from prison to be here today, just to be able to see Papyrus graduate.

Undyne did it anyway.

She must really care about Papyrus and as someone with that same level of investment…

Well, that has to earn her back a few brownie points with you.

You can at least be polite.

“So…you’re the punk Papyrus won’t shut up about, huh?” Undyne sneers down at you.

…You can try to be polite.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me!” you say easily, sparing a glance up at the skeleton in question. “Unless Pap’s been talking up some other humans I don’t know about, I guess.”

Papyrus gasps as if greatly offended. “I Would Never!” he exclaims. “You’re The Best Human!”

You laugh. “‘The best’? Really? I’m the best one?”

“Of Course You Are!” Papyrus says, as if it ought to be obvious. He bends down a little to more easily hug you, explaining, “You’re Our Human. That Makes You The Best!”

Oh…oh, jeez, Papyrus…!

You hug him back.

“Is that true?” You turn to find Undyne watching the two of you, her eye narrowed. “They’re your human, too, Papyrus?”

Papyrus doesn’t hesitate to answer with a firm ‘yes.’

Undyne huffs, making a face.

“Man,” she grumbles, before turning to you with a stern expression. “Hey, human—you know you have to be good to these skeletons, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Uh… I—”

“‘Cause they’re real important!”

“…Well…yeah, they—”

“It looks like you’re doing okay so far,” she says, which sounds almost like a concession, “even…even…but! You better keep it up, alright?! Queen’s orders!”

“You’re Not The Queen Anymore, Undyne,” Papyrus tries to cut in, but she just glares at him.

“Cherish these skeletons, human!” she demands of you, making it sound like a proclamation. “Cherish them!”

“……”

You…

You kinda want to laugh.

Undyne is definitely intense…but she’s hardly the cold and solemn monarch the human media’s made her out to be. Having her here in front of you, trying to intimidate you into taking care of Sans and Papyrus…

You think maybe you understand why she and Pap used to be friends.

Are friends, that’s…that’s pretty clear.

When you smile at her instead of cowering, she scowls, which really just makes you grin wider.

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” you assure her. “These guys are…they’re basically my family at this point.”

You give Papyrus a little side-squeeze and feel your expression softening at just the thought of Sans, still off somewhere settling his nonexistent nerves.

“Don’t worry,” you say, as firmly certain as your entire soul is on the sentiment. “I’m gonna cherish the hell out of these skeletons, no matter what!”

The way Undyne is looking at you now…you’d almost call it impressed.

You could probably stop there and call this a confrontation well-handled, but…

You’re not sure you’ll ever have an opportunity to talk to her again.

You might as well say everything you need to say right now.

“And hey…when Pap comes to visit you, actually see him. I don’t like hearing about the times he wasted a trip, okay?”

In your peripheral vision, you see Papyrus’ cheekbones going blue and he whines your name a little plaintively, but you hold eye-contact with Undyne.

It feels like the right thing to do.

Undyne seems surprised.

And then slowly…she starts to laugh.

“Fuhuhuhuhuhu! Okay…okay, yeah!” She grins at Papyrus, a shark-smile if you’ve ever seen one. “I guess you were right, Papyrus. They’re not a total wimp…for a human!”

You wonder if that’s her way of saying you’ve earned some brownie points with her, too.

One of the humans standing quietly beside Undyne suddenly speaks up. “Ms. Undyne? It’s time.”

She sighs, rolling her visible eye. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever…”

“It Was Good To See You Again, Undyne,” Papyrus chimes in. His smile is wide and after all these years, finally free of the corrective braces.

It brings a very nostalgic look to the former queen’s face.

“You, too, Papyrus. Congrats on doing something cool with your life. Come…come see me again soon, okay?”

“Of Course!”

“And human…” She smirks at you. “Just keep cherishing…or else!”

You give her a cheeky thumbs up and a wink that makes you feel an awful lot like you’re channeling Sans for a second. “You got it!”

That gets you a nod of approval, and in short order, Undyne is led away.

“……I Think She Likes You!” Papyrus decides after a long moment.

You snort. “Is that what that was?”

Whatever Pap says in response, you don’t hear it.

With Undyne’s departure, it’s apparently the perfect time for Papyrus to get swarmed by a whole gaggle of excited and curious people.

Some are monsters, wanting to offering congratulations and ask after the old queen, but a lot are human—fellow graduates from Pap’s class, you realize—impressed that Papyrus was apparently important enough that Undyne herself came to their graduation.

In all the bustle, you end up…kinda trapped, squished up against Papyrus’ legs.

Until he effortlessly scoops you up and sets you down just outside the circle of admirers with a patronizing little pat on the head.

“My Adoring Public Needs Me,” he proclaims grandly, to several fond laughs around him. “You Go Find Sans, I’ll Catch Up With You Later. We Still Have Those Dinner Reservations, I Haven’t Forgotten!”

You almost did, but you accept your mission with a playful salute, already looking forward to the fancy new Italian place you were going out to celebrate at later tonight.

Provided, of course, you can actually find your boyfriend somewhere around here.

Papyrus’ voice stops you again before you get too far, though.

“Oh, And Another Thing I Haven’t Forgotten! I Was Promised A Very Specific Graduation Present!” Oh…that was news to you. “When You Find Him, Tell Him To Quit Being A Snail And Make It Happen, Already!”

You chuckle but say, “Sure thing, Pap!” on your way out.

You hope Sans jotted himself a reminder for this mystery present somewhere or you weren’t gonna be much help to him.

You’ll just have to ask him yourself and you don’t think he’ll be very difficult to find.

After all, he wouldn’t go too far on Pap’s big day, and by now the sun’s been down for awhile.

You can’t think of anywhere else Sans would rather be right now, when he wanted to clear his head, than out under the stars.

-

You don’t miss your guess.

Of course you don’t: after the years you’ve been with him, you know your funnybones.

Sans is sitting there outside in the grass, stroking Buddy’s head in his lap and staring straight up at the night sky.

He looks alright, which makes the ugly knot of compartmentalized concern unravel in your chest. You’re glad tonight’s surprise guest hadn’t shaken him up too badly and you approach him with a smile.

“Hey there, sugar-skull.”

Sans looks up at you and your heart skips a beat. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing the love in that big, red eye-light of his when he looks at you, or the way it makes you feel warm inside like nothing else ever has.

“Mind if I join you?”

“thought you’d never grassk.”

That startles a laugh out of you.

“Is that a new one?” you wonder, getting down to join him. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

Sans shrugs, but you see him smiling. He loves being able to pull a new pun on you. It’s happening less and less these days, the more you’re together and the more jokes you hear from him, but you never fail to laugh at even the old ones you’ve heard a dozen times before.

Funny’s funny, a joke’s a joke, and from probably your favorite person in the world, the humor never feels stale.

“undyne give ya’ a hard time?”

You shrug right back. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. …Pap thinks she likes me.”

Sans huffs, but he slings his arm around you, pulling you right up against his ribs.

“‘course she does.” His skull settles on top of your head. “you’re the best.”

Sweethearts. You’re surrounded by sweethearts.

You don’t think you’d trade a single one of them for the world.

You spend awhile out there, just cuddling out under the stars.

You point out a constellation or two that you can see, even with the urban light pollution. Sans manages to find his favorite, Scorpius, and you spot…one of? the dippers, and it’s not until you’re arguing about how he can possibly tell, without a telescope, how that particular speck of light could be Cassiopeia A that you remember.

“Oh, wait, shit, I was supposed to remind you!”

“hey, you don’t gotta make up excuses, babe. you can just admit you’re wrong, y’know i ain’t gonna make fun of you for that.”

You smack him lightly on the sternum and he snickers at your ineffective bat. “No, seriously. Papyrus wanted me to tell you something.”

“sure, i completely believe you. what’s the message from ‘Papyrus’?”

You shoot him the fiercest side-eye you can manage. “Pap says he hasn’t forgotten about his graduation present and for you to stop being a snail.”

Whatever response you were expecting, the way Sans stiffens against your side really isn’t it.

“……shit. right. yeah. that.”

“Did you forget?” you wonder, trying to hide your amusement.

“mmm, little bit.”

“I mean…you can teleport. If you need to go get it…”

Sans fidgets a little. “nah, it’s not…i already have the……have for awhile, i just haven’t…gotten around to………”

You make a noise of surprise when Sans stands up, pulling you with him. He looks awfully nervous all of a sudden, even more nervous than when Undyne had shown up.

“Oh jeez, Sans,” you murmur gently. “Relax, I’m sure Pap’ll love it!”

It doesn’t stop the sweat from beading along his skull. “that, uh…that’s the thing, it…it’s not……for Pap, actually. it’s……it’s for you.”

You frown, confused. “Pap’s present…is a present for me?”

“eheheheheh…nah, the…it’s for you, Pap’s part of it is……uh. i ‘stop bein’ a bitch about it.’ direct quote.”

Snrk… Oh, Papyrus…

“Okay. Weird, but okay. So…what is it?”

“………um. so.” Sans looks like if he had a lip, he’d be biting it right about now. “i…found a really cool rock…that i wanted to give ya’…”

Oh!

Sans had great taste in rocks, you couldn’t wait to see it.

“‘cept i…wasn’t really sure when the right…time…was…?” He chuckles a little, his eye-light darting everywhere but you. “human……customs, or, whatever. but…but Pap says i already been draggin’ my feet too long, so, uhh…”

Sans reaches into the pocket of his nice slacks and presents you with…

Oh, a crystal!

And by far, the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen: it’s a gorgeous cyan blue and glowing, actually radiating light in the darkness.

The urge to reach out and touch it is powerful and you just stare at it for a moment completely awed.

But then Sans starts talking.

“i…i got it from, uh…from waterfall. the ceiling. took a little doing, but it…it seemed right. we…monsters, we used to wish on these, y’know? did…did i tell you that?”

“Not in so many words,” you say, but you don’t need words for memories conveyed directly through the soul.

You have a clear picture in your mind of the place he’s talking about, and what it meant to monsters when they were trapped.

“well…we wished on ‘em…like how humans do with stars, for stuff we wanted…things……things we never thought we’d get to have…ever.” Sans goes a little glowy in the cheekbones himself. “stuff that was too important to give up on, no matter…how impossible it was.”

He’s still not looking at you and you have no idea where he’s going with this, but when there’s a long pause, you prompt him to continue.

“Sans…?”

He shakes his skull, like he’s trying to clear an etch-a-sketch, and seems to start again.

“i saw a documentary about…one of the animals ya’ got up here. the little…” He struggles with the name and tries, “tuxedo birds,” and you nod encouragingly that you understand.

Though you can’t for the life of you figure out why he wants to talk about penguins right now.

“it, uh…it said they…when they really want to…be with somebody, what they do is…they, they find a rock and give it to ‘em and that’s how they find their mates.” Sans laughs a little, still with that persistent edge of nervousness. “i dunno, i thought it was pretty cute. monsters don’t…we don’t have nothin’ like that, but i guess…i guess humans do?”

Sans freezes suddenly, like something’s just occurred to him.

“shit,” he mutters. “i’m supposed to be on one knee for this, right? does it matter which knee, or…?”

………

Holy shit.

“Sans, are you…are you proposing…?”

He winces at the question, a rueful expression on his skull.

“jeez……guess i’m doin’ a pretty shit job of it if ya’ gotta ask.”

If your heart skipped a beat before, you actually think it stops this time, just for a second.

Sans is proposing.

He wants to marry you.

He wants you to be a part of his life, always.

“Yes.”

Sans blinks at you, looking startled.

You’re not sure if he actually processed the thing you said or what it meant, so you say it again, as emphatically as you can.

“Yes, Sans, I want to marry you!”

He stares at you just a little bit longer…but you know your answer got through this time.

That traitorous eye-light of his can’t lie, and it’s heart-shaped and adorable.

“heheheheheh…hahahahahaha!”

You laugh, too, as you’re suddenly scooped up off the ground, literally swept right off your feet into his arms as Sans holds you up against him, fervently nuzzling at your face.

You nuzzle back, grinning so widely it actually hurts and pressing smooches against him everywhere you can reach.

Below you, Buddy has taken to darting around and barking, excited by the sudden movements his people are making. You know he has no idea what’s going on, but you’re excited, so??? He’s excited too??? Yes?!?!

Stars, you love your stupid dog-son.

You love your goofy skeleton fiancé.

You see several sudden camera flashes and hear a triumphant, “NYEH-HEH-HEH, FINALLY! YES!” off from the side, and you love your meddling, soon-to-be brother-in-law, too!

It might not be the biggest family, but it’s yours and honestly…?

Your life feels as full as it’s ever been.

You gasp as something utterly delightful occurs to you and you brace your hands against Sans’ shoulders, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye-socket.

“Sans,” you say urgently, “Sans!”

“what?” he asks, frowning a little at your tone. His eye-light pops back to its normal round shape, but if you have your way, that won’t last long.

“Do you know what this means?”

Sans can see you starting to grin, the kind of grin that goes hand-in-hand with his most favorite thing in the world, and his concern falls away.

He spares an insufferably smug smirk over at his poor, unsuspecting brother before turning back to you, as eager as you’ve ever seen him.

“what, baby? what does it mean?”

“When we get married… do you know what that’s gonna make you?”

Sans knows it’s going to be good. He’s practically vibrating again as he asks, “what’s it make me?”

“Sans……you’re gonna be my husbone.”

Papyrus shrieks in dismay, even as Sans’ eye-light blips right back into a heart-shape and he completely loses his mind, hugging you even tighter against him and laughing until delighted tears streak down his skull.

“HUMAN! Stop Ruining This Beautiful Moment For Me!” Papyrus demands, his hands on his hips.

“keep…keep enhancing this beautiful moment for me,” Sans wheezes, nuzzling at your cheek.

Buddy just keeps scurrying around Sans’ feet, jumping up and trying to be part of the action, too.

Pap corrals him for you and comes on in to join your little hug-fest with a hilariously irritated look on his face, saying that you two had better not start this up again at your celebratory graduation-slash-engagement dinner or he'll be very displeased, disowning you both!

This…

This is a very good family to be a part of.

You couldn’t be happier.

Prev Chapter | Snips & Snails

#fur a good time call #undertale #sans #papyrus #sans/reader #fanfiction #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic

[nikiforlov]

Fic Rec!

Ive read and bookmarked a bunch of fics that i particularily liked, so im sharing them now! i hope you enjoy !

* = personal favourite

Open At The Touch (6,5k)

Maybe Nishigori got ahold of a lock of Viktor's hair, and some Polyjuice potion. Maybe it's all an elaborate prank. With this as his only reasonable explanation, he steps forward, snags Viktor by his robes and tugs him in. "Nishigori," he says in Japanese, "this prank isn't funny. Your English is better than when I left, though." "Ah," says the fake Viktor Nikiforov in English, voice dipping, and is he blushing? "What was that?" "Maybe I got hit in the head by a Bludger," Yuuri muses. Viktor's smile grows ever wider, tightening at the edges. "Maybe I never came home from my international Quidditch competition. Maybe I'm lying in the hospital right now, hallucinating." There has to be an explanation, mystical and magical or medical, for the best Seeker in the Quidditch world showing up at his door; something besides his portrait, which won't stop talking to Yuuri anyway.

Coming to Terms  (10k)

Victor's realization wasn’t a pinpoint. It was a culmination of years of knowing something was different. An ache without a name.

A story about Victor learning, accepting, and loving himself as a gay man.

The Tsesarevich lives! (50k)

An Anastasia AU. 

Victor is an orphan with no name, no family, and no memory of a time before he was ten years old. Could he really be the missing Nikiforov heir? An adventure across Europe with two conmen will lead him to the answer.

Say I'm The One (2k)*

Viktor leans forward, the curve of his smile soft. Achingly, Yuuri’s fingers imagine what it’d be like to trace it. “You think I want to romance celebrities?” “Well, you’re a celebrity,” Yuuri feebly tries to explain. “Exactly. Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Viktor counters, smirk growing. “The one romancing a celebrity is you." Viktor and Yuuri get caught in a rainstorm on the way home from practice.

To Boldly Go (30k)*

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!” Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser. “Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”

Or:

A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

(No prior Star Trek knowledge needed! It’s a loose AU!)

Bestseller (20k)

Reincarnation AU. Bestselling author Yuuri Katsuki often gets asked where his source of inspiration for his novel series comes from. Yuuri always puts on his best smile and gives the generic answer. However, his minds wanders back to the old journal sitting on his desk, and the dreams of a familiar blue eyed stranger.

Have You Heard? (4k)*

According to rumors, Viktor Nikiforov had been seen crying in the E building’s staircase. No one really seemed to know what was the reason, but everyone were terribly curious about it.

Spotlight (2k)

He can't help how embarrassed he sounds as he tries to hide himself in the pillow, and Viktor's laugh is so lovely - and so helpless, so blatantly in love - that it has Yuuri squirming all over again, the wave of protectiveness stealing his breath away.

Oh, Viktor.

"I suppose that's fair, darling. I am pretty incorrigible."

He's smiling, as he says it, and his voice is light, but Yuuri knows better, now. He can hear that tiny, barely there, desperately hidden thread of self-doubt, as clearly as if Viktor were shouting it.

Am I too much?

Viktor doesn't need to say it for Yuuri to hear it. He's pretty sure Viktor's spent too long feeling like he's too much of something - too loud, too clingy, too needy - for him to just shrug it off.

Yuuri knows a little bit about self-esteem. He knows a little bit about trying to kick years of fucked up thinking. And he's damn well going to keep making sure that Viktor knows he can always be as too much as he wants to be.

You can have everything... (12,5k)

AU. Before the Grand Prix Final starts in Sochi, Yuuri finds Victor's phone. He returns it--and hijinks and heavy flirtation ensue.

Fields of Gold (14,5k)

It’s difficult to believe that he’s inspired people like this; that children and teenagers in Japan and around the world lace up their skates or put on skates for the first time and think of Yuuri Katsuki, just like they think of or thought of Victor Nikiforov. He almost can’t take it. It’s too unbelievable. He’s just… Yuuri, after all.

Yuuri Katsuki with a stack of gold medals is still just Yuuri Katsuki.

He can imagine Victor repeating the same words back to him with his own name and how he’d argue that is absolutely not the case, and he laughs inwardly a bit at that.

(The story in which Yuuri Katsuki wins everything there is to win and retires as Japan's living legend, because he's incredible and beautiful and he deserves it. Aka 'Yuuri wins all the gold', the fic.)

Puppy Love (10k)

When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.

Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

Twenty-Five Hours (23k)

In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him.

silver scales and golden wishing wells (13k)*

the knights fought valiantly, they have slayed the dragon

Yuuri cried from days on end... he loved that dragon

to the winner goes the gold (900)

In which Yuuri and Viktor are competing against each other in the following year's Grand Prix Final, and they're still (very much) smitten with each other.

“Skater Katsuki, anything you want to say to your fellow skaters before the competition?”

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Katsuki says, “just know that once I win gold, you’ll be doing the dishes for an entire month.”

Then he smiles again, sweet and warm, before giving a little wave and heading off through the hall.

cover story (8k) 

Yuuri stares down at the person standing in the doorway. The stranger hisses, "Who do you think you are, anyways?"

Quickly, before he can really think about it, Yuuri responds, "I'm Victor's boyfriend."

It's a lie, but the words feel good in his mouth, and for some reason, he doesn't want to take them back.

Katsudon (7,5k)

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

Victor Effing Nikiforov (13k)*

AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.

Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.

Masks off (27k)*

And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there.

Wait... did it really go like that?

Five Kisses (4k)

It hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary at the time. Victor had always been free with his affection; throwing out compliments, light caresses, even the occasional peck to the cheek. After a little over a week of having him as his coach, Yuuri was sure he had gotten used to it. It was just a Westerner thing, no use getting riled up if Victor wasn’t going to be stopping it anytime soon.

Then it happened.

~~~

Victor likes kissing Yuuri and Yuuri is frustratingly dense

lie to make me like you (80k)*

It’s become a game, of sorts, to anyone privy to the fact that the pattern exists in the first place: ask Victor out at the beginning of the month, date for however many days, and wait for the end to come and for Victor to say, always: I couldn’t fall in love with you. Let’s break up.

With All My Heart (52k)

Once upon a time there was a prince and if you stole his heart, you would live forever. But the prince would only have three days left.

Or: the tale of a Heartless King and a scullion.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Add Sugar (11k)

What could possibly be worse than getting stuck with a roommate you weren't expecting?

Discovering that roommate is none other than Viktor f*cking Nikiforov.

i'm just going to the store (7k)*

Accidental masked vigilante Victor Nikiforov.

Or: how Victor's impulsiveness backfires and creates one of the greatest living internet memes to ever come out of Russia.

November's Secret (233k)*

Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.

But it works a little too well.

Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

Maelstrom (43,5k)

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport--right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

how the mighty fall (in love) (29k)

Every Victor Nikiforov fan has three things in common. 1. They have unrealistic expectations for romance. 2. They mark their calendars with the dates of his newest book releases and the premieres of his latest movie adaptations. 3. They either passionately hate or love his greatest rival, a mysterious author whose pseudonym is only two letters: “KY.”

Allure (11k)*

Yuuri was the most powerful vampire at Hasetsu until he left for Detroit.

After his return for the first time in five years, his priority is training for the Grand Prix with Viktor. Other vampires have steadily invaded his territory, but he's not interested in reasserting his dominance too strongly…Until he catches one of them feeding on Viktor to the point of death in an alleyway.

#victuuri #viktuuri #vikturi #hfuvujcielqmf #victuri fic rec #yoi fanfic #i hope yall appreciate this #my stuff

[luvdsc]

hello miss cat! omg yes i'm SO glad they're over they took up so much of my time and were so prolonged for no reason? i never understand how colleges keep 2-3 exams a day, give a long break, then keep 2 exams a day AND STILL have the entire thing go on for two weeks esp when it's online :/ the burn out 😔 aah i had a few research papers for my ergonomics class and econometrics which is always so hard to trudge through esp right after giving papers. but they're my chosen subjects after all

so i can't complain omg what have you been baking? does it turn out well? facetiming friends is always fun 💗 and 10 minute paintings sounds like such a stress buster! how is work? i've been working towards preparing for my drama exam coming up and i'm also teaching speech and drama to kids those younger than me :D and have also been researching for debates that i moderate with my friends from school. and YES i watched their dance practice it was sooo fun to watch i thought the winderella

i thought the entire escape room idea was so cool and the entire episode was just super fun to watch plus taeyong eating chocolate when everyone was solving the mystery!! 10/10!! i even liked the last episode I WAS ROLLING WHEN KAI JUST KEPT PULLING NOTES FROM THE BOX 😂😂 which was your favorite episode miss cat? hsbdkas i haven't watched the enquete episode entirely yet but i should now that sicheng said that LOL and YEAH OMG i thought it was kind of a red flag when he didn't tell her anything

hey that's so exciting! what do you want your space to look like?? being an artist as a profession is actually really cool! but it wasn't the most..what can i say now, stable? when it came to the economic standpoint so my mother didn't go with it :") ooo ok so from what i know when she's working on her cityscapes she's always like "the bigger the better" and she always works with knives on those so there's a lot of place to experiment with that! but otherwise when she has little time on hand she

prefers smaller canvases! omg yes a lot of her art was hung up at home (tbh it was more like storage before it went to exhibitions 😅) but she took them down because when my brother and i were younger we used to run around the house with darts and toy guns with ink rubber bullets which always ended up hitting the paintings rip and now she has her own studio so most of them are kept there! but yes she painted a family portrait so we have that up :") and a few more scenic paintings too!

dskcsjd i don't really think i enjoy interior designing that much mainly because i'm too lazy to start and move things around but yes conceptually it sounds like so much fun and i have sooo much respect for everyone interested in it. omigosh miss cat i could talk a lot about this but mainly since i teach speech and drama along with studying i love to experiment with different ways the characters can be portrayed when the younger students are performing! i love planning out play moves and

various voice modulation techniques! after all, there's no such thing as a bad molly weasley dramatization now is there? i looove performing arts and the feeling  of being on stage is unparalleled for me with acting and dance :") i also used to write and edit but that was in school i don't think i've got it anymore rip. how about you? would you consider yourself creative? you've got a way with words so that's surely down for you 💗 it's so cool that you enjoy museums! do you have any favorites?

oooo yayoi kusama!! wasn't she the artist behind the fireflies room? (or was it something like that i'm sorry i don't remember what it was called jdbnsd) and monet is such a classic! oh wow, do you often incorporate impressionism into your artwork? (if that kind can be applied rip i'm sorry i'm not that knowledgeable about this stuff aah) 3d design!! ooo what materials do you use there? hndjxjdk oil paints take such a long time to dry don't they? awww doinf 10 min paintings sounds so cute!

what are they like, if you don't mind me asking? my weekend was good! i went to the park and fractured myself rip but otherwise i enjoyed by eating and sleeping well! did you have a good weekend? i hope you're having a super week and continue to do so! oh oh also, thank you for taking the time out to respond to me this is really sweet of you <333

also im sorry to randomly pop this in but i saw you got the album signed by our lord and savior our knight in shining armor our light at the end of a dark tunnel the woman herself QUEEN JISOO??!?!11/!?1 AAAAAAAH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU MISS CAT YOU ACTUALLY MANAGED TO SNAG ONE WOW SJSNDJKNSKJ (maybe now you'll have luck with pulling her i hopeee ahaha)

✿ ✿ ✿

hello, sweetpea!!! 💕 oh my god, i feel- i had like 3 exams in one day many times before and i just wished they spread the exams out over two weeks instead of cramming all of them into one ): it’s such a terrible class structure /: also hate when teachers still teach new material when it’s supposed to be dead week ugh asdfkaljshdfkl i heard economy and i’m that spongebob aight i’m out meme 😬  econ was my least favorite business subject rip. do you like what you’re learning in ergonomics and econometrics? is it interesting for you? 💓

i’ve been baking bread!! my mom and i like making little french baguettes or the japanese milk bread :’) and they come out really nicely!!! we have fresh bread for the week, and i love making breakfast styled sandwiches with it 💖 work is going well! i managed to finish work early on friday and got off at 7 pm :D so that made me very happy, and i’ve been relaxing over the weekend 💕 omg a drama exam! what do you have to do for it? will you be reciting a monologue or performing or is there an actual written exam too? :o and you’re teaching little kids and moderating debates too omg you’re so busy!! is it difficult managing all of that? 😦  and winderella is soo pretty like wow visuals 🤩💝

omg YES i love love love the escape room episode too!!!! it’s also my favorite! and LOL yeah, i noticed that too and laughed when i saw taeyong more interested in the chocolate than the game aksjhflaksjd also lucas is so smart?? he figured out the clues so quickly in the most simplest ways, and i wished they had acknowledged that ): watching mtopia made me more interested in ten too, like wow, he’s really quick witted too 💕 sicheng is whipped for lucas and lucas only. lucas won the life lottery, he received sicheng’s affection and their feelings are mutual 🤧💗

i would want it to look like how i decorated my dorm!! i pinned up all the art postcards i collected from different art museums around the world in a sort of mosaic collage on my walls and hung up my paintings too :’) and i had my paintbrushes and paints stored in these jars on my desk along with a bunch of my books stacked here and there. it was like a bright organized chaos in my dorm room in a sense? i had large sketchpads and blank canvas shoved behind my desks and bed and paintings drying in various areas, but i knew exactly where everything was placed ✨and i totally get it!! it’s why i didn’t choose to major in art too because i wanted financial stability

ooooh my gosh, your mom does palette knife paintings??? those are so gorgeous!!!! 🤩🤩 i looove seeing those being painted and i wish i was skilled enough to do those :o AND SHE HAS EXHIBITIONS?? SHE’S LITERALLY LIVING THE DREAM 💘💘  aksdjfahjlks i hope none of her paintings got hit 😅aaaah it’s great that she still has some of them up though :’) my mom hung up all my paintings too and it made me so happy when i saw 🤧

akjlshfdlja omg i feel that, like it’s fun to just think about it but actually moving furrniture around is hard work rip. once i move in somewhere, the furniture is gonna stay like that until i move again LOL oooo so do you teach different ways to portray a single character? do you create your own characters or do you use a preexisting one? have you ever created your own original play before? :o omg i have so much respect for actors and performing arts honestly, like memorizing all those lines and then having to add emotion to it plus remembering where you’re supposed to stand and go amongst a million other things?? i would completely fail. the only times i participated in performing arts are for piano recitals :’) 

ooo yes, i would consider myself creative!! i love making things, like whether that be through building robots, drawing, painting, soft sculpting, 3d designing, graphic designing, baking, cooking, writing, etc. it’s just so much fun to be able to create. there’s something magical about being able to bring something from your imagination to life ✨ also, thank you so much 🥺💗  i looove moma!!! both the sf one and the nyc one! i also really love the louvre and museo thyssen-bornemisza 💜 i also really really want to visit the monet museum in france one day because i wasn’t able when i traveled there in the past, and i imagine that one will become my favorite if i do get the chance to 🌷

omg yes, you’re correct, she is indeed the one who made that!!!!! she made all those pretty mirror rooms with lights ✨ i absolutely adore her work 💟   and yes, i do!!! I try to incorporate monet’s style into my own paintings by doing a lot of short strokes and studying how sunlight hits nature. and rather than trying to be perfectly accurate, i go with my intuition. it’s kinda like how cher describes it in clueless, like from far away, it looks ok but up close it’s a mess LOL and omg it’s ok, you don’t need to apologize!!! thank you for taking an interest in my art :’) for 3d design, i used foam, cardboard, newspaper, wax, and metal wires!! and yeah, oil painting takes days, even weeks, to fully dry rip but it’s so much easier to blend and paint with because of the slow dry!

i do small paintings of flowers in ten minutes! i included some of them in my letters here 💛 oh my god, you fractured yourself??? how did that happen 😭 did you go see a doctor and get a cast? does it hurt now? pls be careful ):  i did have a good weekend, thank you! 💞 i slept in and ate lots of good food :’) and thank you so so much, my week went well too 💟💟 and omg of course, you don’t have to thank me, lovebug, i enjoy talking to you!! 💓 💓

AND YES I DID!!!! I’M SO HAPPY 😭💜💜💜 I HAVE IT DISPLAYED IN MY ROOM AND IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL 🤩  THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥺💟  omg i actually just bought all her pcs 🤧💗 jisoo is an expensive woman, but i have most of her pcs now :’) and yes, hopefully when the next album comes out in two years hopefully, i’ll be lucky enough to pull her pc 💞💞

how have you been, sweetpea? how’s your weekend going? 💚

#asks #shawtythatsyou

[nancygduarteus]

The New Age of Astrology

Astrology is a meme and it’s spreading in that blooming, unfurling way that memes do. On social media, astrologers and astrology meme machines amass tens or hundreds of thousands of followers, people joke about Mercury retrograde, and categorize “the signs as…” literally anything: cat breeds, Oscar Wilde quotes, Stranger Things characters, types of French fries. In online publications, daily, weekly, and monthly horoscopes, and zodiac-themed listicles flourish.

This isn’t the first moment astrology’s had and it won’t be the last. The practice has been around in various forms for thousands of years. More recently, the New Age movement of the 1960s and ‘70s came with a heaping helping of the Zodiac. (Some also refer to the New Age as the “Age of Aquarius”—the two-thousand-year period after the Earth is said to move into the Aquarius sign.)

In the decades between the New Age boom and now, while astrology certainly didn’t go away—you could still regularly find horoscopes in the back pages of magazines—it “went back to being a little bit more in the background,” says Chani Nicholas, an astrologer based in Los Angeles. “Then there’s something that’s happened in the last five years that’s given it an edginess, a relevance for this time and place, that it hasn’t had for a good 35 years. Millennials have taken it and run with it.”

Many people I spoke to for this piece said they had a sense that the stigma attached to astrology, while it still exists, had receded as the practice has grabbed a foothold in online culture, especially for young people.

“Over the past two years, we’ve really seen a reframing of New Age practices, very much geared towards a Millennial and young Gen X quotient,” says Lucie Greene, the worldwide director of J. Walter Thompson’s innovation group, which tracks and predicts cultural trends.

Callie Beusman, a senior editor at Broadly says traffic for the site’s horoscopes “has grown really exponentially.” Stella Bugbee, the president and editor-in-chief of The Cut, says a typical horoscope post on the site got 150 percent more traffic in 2017 than the year before.

In some ways, astrology is perfectly suited for the internet age. There’s a low barrier to entry, and nearly endless depths to plumb if you feel like falling down a Google research hole. The availability of more in-depth information online has given this cultural wave of astrology a certain erudition—more jokes about Saturn returns, less “Hey baby, what’s your sign?” pickup lines.

A quick primer: Astrology is not a science; there’s no evidence that one’s Zodiac sign actually correlates to personality. But the system has its own sort of logic. Astrology ascribes meaning to the placement of the sun, the moon, and the planets within 12 sections of the sky—the signs of the Zodiac. You likely know your sun sign, the most famous Zodiac sign, even if you’re not an astrology buff. It’s based on where the sun was on your birthday. But the placement of the moon and each of the other planets at the time and location of your birth adds additional shades to the picture of you painted by your “birth chart.”

What horoscopes are supposed to do is give you information about what the planets are doing right now, and in the future, and how all that affects each sign. “Think of the planets as a cocktail party,” explains Susan Miller, the popular astrologer who founded the AstrologyZone website. “You might have three people talking together, two may be over in the corner arguing, Venus and Mars may be kissing each other. I have to make sense of those conversations that are happening each month for you.”

“Astrologers are always trying to boil down these giant concepts into digestible pieces of knowledge,” says Nicholas. “The kids these days and their memes are like the perfect context for astrology.”

Astrology expresses complex ideas about personality, life cycles, and relationship patterns through the shorthand of the planets and Zodiac symbols. And that shorthand works well online, where symbols and shorthand are often baked into communication.

“Let me state first that I consider astrology a cultural or psychological phenomenon,” not a scientific one, Bertram Malle, a social cognitive scientist at Brown University told me in an email. But “full-fledged astrology”—that goes beyond newspaper style sun sign horoscopes—“provides a powerful vocabulary to capture not only personality and temperament but also life’s challenges and opportunities. To the extent that one simply learns this vocabulary, it may be appealing as a rich way of representing (not explaining or predicting) human experiences and life events, and identifying some possible paths of coping.”

People tend to turn to astrology in times of stress. A small 1982 study by the psychologist Graham Tyson found that “people who consult astrologers” did so in response to stressors in their lives—particularly stress “linked to the individual’s social roles and to his or her relationships,” Tyson wrote. “Under conditions of high stress, the individual is prepared to use astrology as a coping device even though under low stress conditions he does not believe in it.”

According to American Psychological Association survey data, since 2014, Millennials have been the most stressed generation, and also the generation most likely to say their stress has increased in the past year since 2010. Millennials and Gen X-ers have been significantly more stressed than older generations since 2012. And Americans as a whole have seen increased stress because of the political tumult since the 2016 presidential election. The 2017 edition of the APA’s survey found that 63 percent of Americans said they were significantly stressed about their country’s future. Fifty-six percent of people said reading the news stresses them out, and Millennials and Gen X-ers were significantly more likely than older people to say so. Lately that news often deals with political infighting, climate change, global crises, and the threat of nuclear war. If stress makes astrology look shinier, it’s not surprising that more seem to be drawn to it now.

Nicholas’s horoscopes are evidence of this. She has around one million monthly readers online, and recently snagged a book deal—one of four new mainstream astrology guidebooks sold in a two-month period in summer 2017, according to Publisher’s Marketplace. Anna Paustenbach, Nicholas’s editor at HarperOne, told me in an email that Nicholas is “at the helm of a resurgence of astrology.” She thinks this is partly because  Nicholas’s horoscopes are explicitly political. On September 6, the day after the Trump administration announced it was rescinding DACA—the deferred action protection program for undocumented immigrants—Nicholas sent out her typical newsletter for the upcoming full moon. It read, in part:

The full moon in Pisces…may open the flood gates of our feelings. May help us to empathize with others… May we use this full moon to continue to dream up, and actively work towards, creating a world where white supremacy has been abolished.

Astrology offers those in crisis the comfort of imagining a better future, a tangible reminder of that clichéd truism that is nonetheless hard to remember when you’re in the thick of it: This too shall pass.

In 2013, when Sandhya was 32 years old, she downloaded the AstrologyZone app, looking for a road map. She felt lonely, and unappreciated at her nonprofit job in Washington D.C., and she was going out drinking four or five times a week. “I was in the cycle of constantly being out, trying to escape,” she says.

She wanted to know when things would get better and AstrologyZone had an answer. Jupiter, “the planet of good fortune,” would move into Sandhya’s zodiac sign, Leo, in one year’s time, and remain there for a year. Sandhya remembers reading that if she cut clutter out of her life now, she’d reap the rewards when Jupiter arrived.

So Sandhya spent the next year making room for Jupiter. (She requested that we not publish her last name because she works as an attorney and doesn’t want her clients to know the details of her personal life.) She started staying home more often, cooking for herself, applying for jobs, and going on more dates. “I definitely distanced myself from two or three friends who I didn’t feel had good energy when I hung around them,” she says. “And that helped significantly.”

Jupiter entered Leo on July 16, 2014. That same July, Sandhya was offered a new job. That December, Sandhya met the man she would go on to marry. “My life changed dramatically,” she says. “Part of it is that a belief in something makes it happen. But I followed what the app was saying. So I credit some of it to this Jupiter belief.”

Humans are narrative creatures, constantly explaining their lives and selves by weaving together the past, present, and future (in the form of goals and expectations). Monisha Pasupathi, a developmental psychologist who studies narrative at the University of Utah, says that while she lends no credence to astrology, it “provides [people] a very clear frame for that explanation.”

It does give one a pleasing orderly sort of feeling, not unlike alphabetizing a library, to take life’s random events and emotions and slot them in to helpfully labeled shelves. This guy isn’t texting me back because Mercury retrograde probably kept him from getting the message. I take such a long time to make decisions because my Mars is in Taurus. My boss will finally recognize all my hard work when Jupiter enters my 10th house. A combination of stress and uncertainty about the future is an ailment for which astrology can seem like the perfect balm.

Sandhya says she turns to astrology looking for help in times of despair, “when I’m like ‘Someone tell me the future is gonna be okay.’” Reading her horoscope was like flipping ahead in her own story.

“I’m always a worrier,” she says. “I’m one of those people who, once I start getting into a book, I skip ahead and I read the end. I don’t like cliffhangers, I don’t like suspense. I just need to know what’s gonna happen. I have a story in my head. I was just hoping certain things would happen in my life, and I wanted to see if I am lucky enough for them to happen.”

Now that they have happened, “I haven’t been reading [my horoscope] as much,” she says, “and I think it’s because I’m in a happy place right now.”

Maura Dwyer

For some, astrology’s predictions function like Dumbo’s feather—a comforting magic to hold onto until you realize you could fly on your own all along. But it’s the ineffable mystical sparkle of the feather—gentler and less draining than the glow of a screen— that makes people reach for it in the first place.

People are starting to get sick of a life lived so intensely on the grid. They wish for more anonymity online. They’re experiencing fatigue with e-books, with dating apps, with social media. They’re craving something else in this era of quantified selves, and tracked locations, and indexed answers to every possible question. Except, perhaps the questions of who you really are, and what life has in store for you

Ruby Warrington is a lifestyle writer whose New Age guidebook Material Girl, Mystical World came out in May 2017—just ahead of the wave of astrology book sales this summer. She also runs a mystical esoterica website, The Numinous, a word which Merriam-Webster defines as meaning “supernatural or mysterious,” but which Warrington defines on her website as “that which is unknown, or unknowable.”

“I think that almost as a counterbalance to the fact that we live in such a quantifiable and meticulously organized world, there is a desire to connect to and tap into that numinous part of ourselves,” Warrington says. “I see astrology as a language of symbols that describes those parts of the human experience that we don't necessarily have equations and numbers and explanations for.”

J. Walter Thompson’s Intelligence Group released a trend report in 2016 called “Unreality” that says much the same thing: “We are increasingly turning to unreality as a form of escape and a way to search for other kinds of freedom, truth and meaning,” it reads. “What emerges is an appreciation for magic and spirituality, the knowingly unreal, and the intangible aspects of our lives that defy big data and the ultratransparency of the web.” This sort of reactionary cultural 180 has happened before—after The Enlightenment’s emphasis on rationality and the scientific method in the 17th and 18th centuries, the Romantic movement found people turning toward intuition, nature, and the supernatural. It seems we may be at a similar turning point. New York magazine even used the seminal Romantic painting Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog to illustrate Andrew Sullivan’s recent anti-technology essay, “I Used to Be a Human Being.”

JWT and another trend forecasting group, WGSN, in its report “Millennials: New Spirituality” lump astrology in with other New Age mystical trends that have caught on with young people in recent years: healing crystals, sound baths, and tarot, among others.

“I think it’s become generally less acceptable to just arbitrarily shit on things as like “that’s not rational, or that’s stupid because that’s not fact,” says Nicole Leffel, a 28-year-old software engineer who lives in New York.

Bugbee, the editor-in-chief of The Cut, noticed this shift a couple years ago. “I could just tell that people were sick of a certain kind of snarky tone,” she said. Up to that point, the site had been running slightly irreverent horoscopes with gifs meant to encapsulate the week’s mood for each sign. But Bugbee realized “that people wanted sincerity more than anything. So we just kind of went full sincere with [the horoscopes], and that’s when we saw real interest happen.”

But a sincere burgeoning interest in astrology doesn’t mean people are wholesale abandoning rationality for more mystical beliefs. Nicholas Campion, a historian of astrology points out that the question of whether people “believe” in astrology is both impossible to answer, and not really a useful question to ask. People might say they don’t “believe” in astrology, but still identify with their Zodiac sign. They may like to read their horoscope, but don’t change their behavior based on what it says. There is more nuance than this statistic allows for.

Many mainstream examinations of astrology as a trend are deeply concerned with debunking. They like to trot out the National Science Foundation survey that measures whether people think astrology is scientific, and remind readers that it’s not. Which, it’s not. But that’s not really the point.

While there are surely some people who blindly accept astrology as fact and view it as on par with a discipline like biology, that doesn’t seem to be the case among many of the young adults who are fueling this renaissance of the Zodiac. The people I spoke to for this piece often referred to astrology as a tool, or a kind of language—one that, for many, is more metaphorical than literal.

“Astrology is a system that looks at cycles, and we use the language of planets,” says Alec Verkuilen Brogan, a 29-year-old chiropractic student based in the Bay Area who has also studied astrology for 10 years. “It's not like these planets are literally going around and being like ‘Now, I'm going to do this.’ It’s a language to speak to the seasons of life.”

Michael Stevens, a 27-year-old who lives in Brooklyn, was in the quarter-life crisis season of life around the time of the total solar eclipse in August this year. “Traditionally, I’m a skeptic,” he says. “I’m a hardcore, like Dana Scully from X-Files type of person. And then shit started to happen in life.” Around the time of the eclipse, in the course of his advertising work, he cold-called Susan Miller of AstrologyZone, to ask if she would put some ads on her site.

She was annoyed, he says, that he called her at the end of the month, which is when she writes her famously lengthy horoscopes. But then she asked him for his sign—Sagittarius. “And she’s like, ‘Oh, okay, this new moon’s rough for you.’” They talked about work and relationship troubles. (Miller doesn’t remember having this conversation specifically, but says “I’m always nice to the people who cold-call. It sounds totally like me.”)

Studies have shown that if you write a generic personality description and tell someone it applies to them, they’re likely to perceive it as accurate—whether that’s in the form of a description of their Zodiac sign or something else.

Stevens says he could’ve potentially read into his conversation with Miller in this way. “She’s like ‘You’re going through a lot right now,’” he says. “Who isn’t? It’s 2017. ”

Still, he says the conversation made him feel better; it spurred him to take action. In the months between his call with Miller and our conversation in October, Stevens left his advertising job and found a new one in staffing. Shortly before we spoke, he and his girlfriend broke up.

“[I realized] I’m acting like a shitty, non-playable character in a Dungeons and Dragons RPG,” Stevens says, “so I should probably make choices, and pursue some of the good things that could happen if I just [cared] about being a happy person in a real way.”

Stevens’ story exemplifies a prevailing attitude among many of the people I talked to—that it doesn’t matter if astrology is real; it matters if it’s useful.

“We take astrology very seriously, but we also don't necessarily believe in it,” says Annabel Gat, the staff astrologer at Broadly, “because it's a tool for self-reflection, it's not a religion or a science. It’s just a way to look at the world and a way to think about things.”

Beusman, who hired Gat at Broadly, shares her philosophy. “I believe several conflicting things in all areas of my life,” she says. “So for me it's very easy to hold these two ideas in my head at once. This could not be true at all, and also, I'll be like ‘Well, I have three planets entering Scorpio next month, so I should make some savvy career decisions.’”

This attitude is exemplified by The Hairpin’s “Astrology Is Fake” column, by Rosa Lyster, with headlines like “Astrology Is Fake But Leos Are Famous,” and “Astrology Is Fake But Taurus Hates Change.”

It might be that Millennials are more comfortable living in the borderlands between skepticism and belief because they’ve spent so much of their lives online, in another space that is real and unreal at the same time. That so many people find astrology meaningful is a reminder that something doesn’t have to be real to feel true. Don’t we find truth in fiction?

In describing her attitude toward astrology, Leffel recalled a line from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods in which the main character, Shadow, wonders whether lightning in the sky was from a magical thunderbird, “or just an atmospheric discharge, or whether the two ideas were, on some level, the same thing. And of course they were. That was the point after all.”

If the “astrology is fake but it’s true” stance seems paradoxical, well, perhaps the paradox is what’s attractive. Many people offered me hypotheses to explain astrology’s resurgence. Digital natives are narcissistic, some suggested, and astrology is a navel-gazing obsession. People feel powerless here on Earth, others said, so they’re turning to the stars. Of course, it’s both. Some found it to be an escape from logical “left-brain” thinking; others craved the order and organization the complex system brought to the chaos of life. It’s both. That’s the point, after all.

To understand astrology’s appeal is to get comfortable with paradoxes. It feels simultaneously cosmic and personal; spiritual and logical; ineffable and concrete; real and unreal. It can be a relief, in a time of division, not to have to choose. It can be freeing, in a time that values black and white, ones and zeroes, to look for answers in the grey. It can be meaningful to draw lines in the space between moments of time, or the space between pinpricks of light in the night sky, even if you know deep down they’re really light-years apart, and have no connection at all.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2018/01/the-new-age-of-astrology/550034/?utm_source=feed

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 3/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader Chapter Warnings: none

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Crushed

Sometimes, you kept weird hours at night.

You had a bad habit of coming home from work and immediately passing out, only to wake up around ten or eleven at night and have some space to fill until you could get back to sleep again.

Occasionally you made do with the slim pickings of nighttime TV or made yourself some food that you probably shouldn’t be eating so late, but mostly you resorted to screwing around on the internet with your phone.

That was how you found out that Sans kept weird hours, too.

You had stumbled across one of those unfortunate neon sign burnouts—one ‘Elmhurst Emergency & Trauma Center’ that became the ‘ Im hur t Emergency & Trauma Center’— and immediately thought of somebody who would appreciate it.

Before you could reason with yourself that it was after midnight and you had literally never sent Sans a text before and this was a hell of an opener with no context, you’d sent off the photo.

A response came not ten minutes later.

PUNbelievable: lol thanks for that, Pap just yelled at me to keep it down.

You: Sorry, not sorry!

And that was the humble beginning of your textual friendship with Sans.

You texted back and forth about a lot of things. Most of it was silly stuff you found online (you’d been right, Sans did appreciate memes) but you were surprised by how many topics could arise from that kind of thing.

You: No way you have that many.

PUNbelievable: you doubt my hoarding ability? [IMG-1]

You: Holy shit, so that’s what 86 rocks looks like. Congrats?

PUNbelievable: and those are just the pretty ones. i got some more in shoeboxes and stuff.

You: You have shoes?!

PUNbelievable: hey hey hey what do you take me for, some kind of fancypants? no shoes, just the boxes.

You’d even started to go a little out of your usual way to find things Sans might get a kick out of. You started following a couple geology-themed blogs just so you’d occasionally find something nerdy to share.

You: [IMG-24]

PUNbelievable: whoa, perfect cleavage, thanks. yours?

You: Not mine. Perfect, though? Really? I just thought it was gneiss.

PUNbelievable: calcite, actually.

You: LOL!

Completely by accident, you’d also discovered his love of cat photos. He sent them to you often as reaction images, some he probably just found online but a lot you recognized as cats from the shelter.

He admitted to you that pretty much whenever he got a free moment at work, he was in the cat room, picking up or poking or otherwise gently harassing somebody.

PUNbelievable: most of them are just chill little dudes, they’re great. i love it when they get happy and start vibrating, that’s the best.

You: You don’t have to convince me, I love every one of those fuzzbutts, especially when they purr! I think I just might be more of a dog-person.

PUNbelievable: really? i thought you were a human-person.

You: Hilarious, spoken like a true cat-person. I should’ve put you as Good@Cats in my phone.

PUNbelievable: what am i now?

You: PUNbelievable.

PUNbelievable: what that’s great!

PUNbelievable: keep it!

PUNbelievable: it’s perfect!

A triple-text and the first time you’d ever seen him use exclamation points: how could you say no to that?

It didn’t take long before you caught yourself thinking of Sans as a friend—not just a work-friend, an actual friend—and you weren’t positive, but you were pretty sure he thought of you the same way.

For one thing, when you talked to him at the shelter, he actually talked back. It was a little thing, but it was so unlike the clipped and stiff replies he gave when other people tried to make conversation that it was a noticeable difference.

Sans’ silence had seemed so antisocial and mysterious back before you knew him. Now that you did, it seemed infinitely obvious that the man was just an awkward dork who wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want to bug anybody so he split the difference by saying as little as possible.

He smiled a little wider when he saw you, though, and mostly came to you now when he’d finished a task and wasn’t sure what else needed doing. He was always available when you were about ready to go to lunch and happily gushed to you over how well his brother’s schooling was going, and he listened attentively when you talked about your own life, even when it couldn’t have been very interesting to hear about.

Sans had to be a friend: you couldn’t think of anybody else you’d rather send videos at three in the morning, and that was the truest measure of friendship you could think of.

Speaking of which…

You: [LINK: Sad Cat Diary]

PUNbelievable: oh big mood.

You snicker a little at the mental image of Sans, huge and spooky-looking, trying to sneak up on a tiny thumbtack in the wall.

You’re glad you went for it that day when you asked Sans to lunch. It was impulsive and a little nerve-wracking to put yourself out there like that, but it netted you a really good friend.

You couldn’t regret that, not even a little bit.

-

Buddy was with you again, which seemed superfluous to say at this point, but there he was.

His clicker training had gone incredibly well—the food-motivated little gremlin that he was—and you’d gotten him to pick up all the basic commands that people expected out of their dogs and didn’t want to have to teach them.

He knew sit, stay, drop it (though he was stubborn and sometimes pretended he didn’t), and even shake! He’d also pretty quickly picked up when and where he was supposed to do his business, and after all the socialization you’d been doing with him he didn’t flinch or shy away from being touched by people anymore.

With all that and his clean bill of health from the vet, Buddy was almost ready to go up for adoption.

There was just one small formality left on the list to check off, and it was how Buddy interacted with other animals. Since he spent so much time in the dog room, around other dogs, you already had a pretty good idea of how he was with his own species, so you’d gotten your boy leashed up, asked Sans to snag a couple cats for you, and met in the playroom.

Based on Buddy’s walk awhile back, you had a feeling you knew how this would go, but better to get it all done according to the shelter’s protocols.

Sans was standing there waiting for you when you and Buddy walked in. At your advice, he’d grabbed Snickers and Button, two of the more easygoing cats you currently had with a history of not batting the shit out of curious dog noses.

You had to cover a laugh at the sight of Sans, though. Button was fully latched onto Sans’ arm, all four limbs wrapped around it while she chewed at the cuff of his sleeve, and Snickers had perched herself up on his shoulder to paw at his face while he ineffectively tried to lean away.

“You good over there?” you asked, just to cover your bases.

“yep. as you can see, i’m a ladies man.”

You bent down, undoing Buddy’s leash and giving him a quick pat. “Would you be offended if I made the obvious ‘drowning in pussy’ joke?”

“yes, i would,” Sans said. “that’s just vulgar. low-brow. have some class, wouldja?”

You laughed, which had clearly been Sans’ intention. He grinned proudly even as he knelt and tried to shoo the cats off his body, a little easier to do now that there was something else for them to focus on.

Buddy, for his part, was reacting pretty much exactly how you’d expected. He was alert and very obviously curious…but also extremely unsure about these small bendy-looking dogs that were fearlessly trotting up to him.

“you think he’ll be alright?”

You shrugged. “I think so,” you decided, “more or less. I wouldn’t put him down as a great choice for homes with other pets, but if they’re friendly like the girls here, I don’t think he’d be in trouble.”

Buddy had mustered enough courage to give Snickers a good sniff…only to recoil a little as she sniffed him, something that was obviously uncalled for and totally unpredictable.

“that’s what this is for, yeah?” Sans asked, and you turned to face him. “you’re seein’ what kinda place he’d be a good fit for?”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s pretty much what we’ve been doing the whole time he’s been here. Adoption’s the goal: we don’t have as many rules and procedures as a rescue, but we still want everybody to end up somewhere good.”

Sans’ red eye moved from you to the animals. Button was trying to loop around Buddy’s feet, which Buddy was not sure he was totally cool with.

“so…what’s ‘somewhere good’ for buddy?”

The question made you consider it. “Well… he’d probably need somebody a little patient. He’s still nervous around new stuff and needs awhile to get used to it.”

“sure.”

“Ideally an only-pet situation,” you added. You gestured to where Snickers was playfully trying to catch Buddy’s tail while Buddy hastily tucked it and scrambled around to keep her in his line of sight. “Can you imagine him having to deal with that all day? Or worse, a territorial cat?”

“nah, he’s a lover, not a fighter.”

“Exactly! Big ol’ marshmallow.” You smiled fondly. “Buddy just needs a place where somebody can be his best friend.”

“so…you, right?”

Cue the mental record-scratch.

“Huh?”

Sans clearly didn’t think he’d said anything unusual. “everything you just described is you. you’re patient, no pets, you’re already his best pal. why can’t you take ‘im?”

“I…” You frowned. “I can’t.”

Sans didn’t say anything, but you felt his eye on you so you turned to watch Buddy again. He’d laid down to keep his underside protected, and the cats were rubbing up against him on either side.

It was adorable.

“I can’t,” you said again. “I…work way too much. I’m always here, y’know? I’d feel awful leaving…a dog,” you pointedly don’t say Buddy’s name, “alone in the house all day long. And then half the time when I get home, I just go straight to bed, so I wouldn’t even be able to play with him or give him the attention he should get.”

You chanced a look at Sans. His expression…wasn’t judgmental. Maybe a little…sad? But he wasn’t judging you.

You sighed. “It just wouldn’t be fair to him,” you say finally. “I’ve always believed you shouldn’t get a pet if you can’t take care of it. Buddy’s a good boy, he’ll go to a good home real fast. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“……if you say so,” Sans replied eventually. “guess i just always wondered why ya didn’t have your own pet when ya take care of ‘em all day. i know i thought havin’ a pet was pretty cool.”

Was? Oh, no.

“Did you…did you lose a pet, Sans?”

You shouldn’t be so surprised. The monsters went through hell underground, it should follow that no one was exempt from it, not even pets… but the thought still hurt your heart.

“yeah,” Sans said, and you ached with sympathy. You reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm when he continued, “Pap and i used to have a pet rock.”

Your expression flattened. “What do you mean, ‘used to’?” you demanded. “You’ve got like a hundred pet rocks.”

“nah, those are just rocks, they’re not pets,” Sans insisted. “not like rocky was.”

“……His name was Rocky.” Sans nodded. “I am…ninety percent sure you’re fucking with me.”

Sans put a hand to his chest, like an affronted southern belle. “would i do that?”

“Yes.”

“i’m hurt,” Sans said. “really. cut deep. rocky was a very important part of our family, i mourn his loss every day.”

“Okay, so what happened to him?” you wondered, suspicion evident.

“ran away.”

“…………”

“Pap blamed me for it,” Sans continued, shaking his head. “he was probably right to. i never fed him his sprinkles on time. didn’t appreciate him the way i should’ve, he was my rock and i just wasn’t there for him…”

“I’m a hundred percent now,” you said. “You’re fucking with me.”

Sans laughed, loudly and unabashedly. It made you laugh a little too, even though you shoved him in the arm right after.

“You’re such a jerk!”

“seriously, though,” he said. “if you ever meet Papyrus, ask ‘im about rocky, he’ll tell ya’.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, tone dripping with sarcasm. You went over to rescue Buddy from his wannabe feline friends and added, “You better hope I don’t meet Papyrus because I’m gonna remember this and ask him and you’re gonna be exposed as a total liar!”

It wasn’t until you’d gotten Buddy’s leash back on and body-blocked your poor dog friend a little from Button and Snickers that you realized your designated cat-wrangler hadn’t answered you.

“Sans?”

He had his phone out and a serious expression on his skull as he penned something in. You’d learned only a week back that he kept a lot of reminders in his phone. He said it had been a major lifesaver to have something with him that could remember important dates and times for him, even when he couldn’t.

“Did you forget something?” you ask him gently.

Sans took a second to reply. “nah, just…remembered something i wanna do later. don’t wanna forget about it.”

“Okay.” You didn’t dwell on it. “Can you get Heckle and Jeckle here for me? I think Buddy’s had enough friendship for today.”

“yeah, sure.”

Sans scooped up the cats for you with only minimal mewing as protest, and you gave Buddy a scratch at his neck.

“Good boy,” you reassured him, leading him back to his kennel.

You were a little distracted, trying to decide how his adoption description should go.

You’d post it on the shelter website before you left work today.

-

The next day had you feeling…a little annoyed.

A new employee started today, somebody else’s young relative if his last name and obvious resemblance to your coworker were any indication, and no one had ever made you hate nepotism so much in your life.

You tried to rein it in: he was young and it was literally his first day, probably his first ever job and you knew there was always a learning curve. You wanted to respect that!

But… you might feel a little more forgiving if it seemed like he even sorta cared about the shelter and what you all did here.

You couldn’t speak to anyone else’s experience with him, but every time so far you’d tried to show him where something was or what the procedure is for such-and-such, he was looking off into the middle distance and nodding his head when he thought you were looking for an answer.

His phone buzzed once while you were talking and he broke direct eye-contact with you to respond to it.

You knew right then that he was somebody only in it for the paycheck. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, a job was a job, but he could at least have some decorum and try to look like he wasn’t bored of being there right in front of the person training him!

It was even worse because today was a day Sans wasn’t working. You couldn’t even complain to him about the new guy, or ask him to cover all the stuff he probably wasn’t doing that you’d have to go do yourself later.

Needless to say, you were already in a not-so-great mood when he came up to you in the middle of litterbox emptying around mid-afternoon asking for your attention—by the wrong name.

You didn’t bother to correct him. “Yeah, I can take a minute. What’s up?”

“The front desk girl called back. She said a guy wants to see a dog?”

…helpful. “Did she say anything else?” you prompted. “We got a lot of dogs here.”

He squinted, seeming to think about it. “Uhhh… I think it was Buddy? Or something like that.”

You weren’t quite prepared for the way your stomach dropped when he said the name. To cover it you spoke quickly, “Okay, thank you, I’ll go handle that. Can you finish cleaning the litterboxes for me?”

He sighed deeply, muttering, “I guess,” but you were already shucking off your gloves and heading to the sink to wash your hands. You could comfort yourself later with the knowledge that this guy couldn’t possibly last long here with an attitude like that. For now…

Oh, god.

You knew this was coming. You’d written up a great description for the website, and Buddy sat for his picture like a professional model: one ear flopped and the other pointed up with his pretty blue eyes and his tongue lolling happily out of his mouth.

He was a good boy and a beautiful dog, you knew he’d get adopted quick.

You just…hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

It’s not like you hadn’t gotten attached to dogs before. It happened a lot, actually, and it hurt a little each time watching them walk out the shelter door, but it had always been a light sting, easily soothed by the knowledge that they were going to a good home with people who’d love them.

But you had a terrible feeling that Buddy was going to hurt a lot more.

“How come you’re different, you little stinker?” you asked him, opening up his kennel and stepping in.

Buddy seemed oblivious to your sudden distress. He all but hopped off his cot when he saw you and the leash in your hand, his tail wagging while he sniffed at your pant leg in greeting and oh stars, this was going to be the last time he ever did that.

You got down on your knees to put his leash on. “C’mon, you gotta be a good boy. We’re gonna go meet your new dad.”

Because really, there wasn’t a question of if. It was like you’d told Sans, there wasn’t really a screening process or applications needed to take home a pet from here.

If you liked a dog, filled out the single sheet of paperwork, and paid the fee, that was your dog—and who wouldn’t like a sweetheart like Buddy once they met him?

You took a deep breath and got back to your feet. “Alright,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Alright. Let’s go, Buddy.”

The walk over to the lobby seemed shorter than it had ever been. You had to force yourself not to stop right before the doorway for ‘just a minute,’ knowing damn well that it wouldn’t be just a minute.

When you got there, there was only one person waiting in the lobby…and the sight of him nearly made you drop the leash.

He was a skeleton.

If you’d thought Sans was a big guy, the sight of this man scrunched into the almost comically small waiting chairs had instantly disabused you of the notion. It was hard to get a bead on exactly how tall he must be, since he was seated so politely with folded hands, but you’d guess he might be actually double your height, if not taller. He at least wasn’t built as broadly as your friend, but his overall length of limb seemed to make up for it and if it weren’t for his obvious good manners the sheer size of him might’ve been enough to make you a little nervous.

Well…his manners, the cobalt-blue squares of his (really cute) braces, and his matching glasses frames that were actually taped to the sides of his skull.

He spotted you almost the moment you walked in and rose to greet you.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, offering one massive, spindly hand for you to shake. “I’m Papyrus! It’s A Pleasure To Meet You.”

It was…interesting trying to figure out how to shake his hand in return with the obvious size difference, but he took pity on you and helped you make it work. You introduced yourself right back.

“Ah, Of Course,” he said when you told him your name, “Sans’ Human. He’s Told Me A Lot About You, All Good Things, Naturally!”

You laughed a little, feeling just a tiny bit nervous all of a sudden at the thought of Sans talking about you—and at being called ‘Sans’ human.’ “Likewise. Uh, congratulations on acing that test last week!”

Papyrus scoffed, but you couldn’t help but notice the sudden hint of denim-blue on his cheekbones. “Thank You, But Really, I Have No Idea Why Sans Would Brag About That To Anyone! Did He Tell You The Exam Was On The Human Skeletal System?”

“Pfft… No, he left that part out, I think.”

“I Didn’t Even Study, For Obvious Reasons,” he told you, gesturing broadly to himself. You suddenly noticed the vibrant rainbow tie-dye crop-top he was wearing, and the black jacket he had over it with intricately embroidered flowers stitched into the leather.

Sans had been so right: Papyrus was insanely cool.

“We’re Getting Off-Topic,” he declared, bending further from his already hunched position to look at the dog beside you. “This Must Be Buddy. Hello!”

Buddy’s nose went straight into the hand Papyrus reached out to him, sniffing with vigor as always.

“Ah, You Smell My Bone Cologne! You Must Be A Dog Of Excellent Taste, A Connoisseur Of Fine Smells!”

You couldn’t help your smile. “Buddy certainly is that,” you agreed. The cold dread that had pooled in your gut at the thought of Buddy being adopted today had curiously disappeared and it left you feeling lighter than air. “Why don’t we all head to the playroom for a bit? You can interact with him a little better in there than in the lobby.”

“Excellent Suggestion!” Papyrus said. “I Would Be Delighted!”

The skeleton followed you further into the shelter, ducking under door frames blatantly not built with his height in mind. You were glad that the playroom had a high ceiling so everyone would be comfortable there.

As soon as you were all through the door, you unclipped Buddy’s leash and wrapped it up around your hand. “Papyrus, you can go ahead and ask Buddy to bring you a ‘t-o-y,’ he knows what that word means and he’s good at fetch.”

“Oh, So Am I!”

“Really?”

“Yes, Unrivaled At Fetch In All Of Snowdin,” he said proudly before pausing and looking a tad hesitant. You noticed he had the same nervous gesture Sans had, of looking down and to the left, and you found it unspeakably endearing. “Well, I Was, Anyway, For A Time. I, Erm…Worked Quite Closely With The Canine Unit And My Fetch Time Was Always The Best Out Of All Of Them! My Training Regimen Hasn’t Been…As Rigorous As It Was Back Then, Though, So I Suppose I Can’t Say With Certainty That It’s The Same. I’ve Been Busy Lately, Even By My Own Standards!”

“I know the feeling,” you empathized. “Adding Buddy into the mix won’t be too much, will it?”

Papyrus laughed, a bright and booming ‘NYEH-HEH-HEH’ that totally disarmed you.

“I Don’t See How It Could Be,” Papyrus assured you. “Buddy,” the dog focused on him instantly, “Can You Bring Me A Toy?”

Buddy perked right up when he heard the word of fun-times and happily bounced off to pick his favorite, a spiky rubber hedgehog that had seen better days, but its squeaker still worked so it was The Golden Toy to many of the dogs here.

Papyrus seemed pleased to have the slimy thing dropped into his hand and he gave it a gentle lob across the room. Buddy went after it like a shot. Almost as if he knew his performance was being judged, he even jumped a little to snatch it right out of the air.

Papyrus gave a suitably impressed noise and patted Buddy on the head when he returned the hedgehog. “Well,” he said, giving the toy another toss, “He’s Smart And Fast And A Very Handsome Dog—He’s Already Met All My Standards!”

“I can’t say I’m surprised, I’m pretty fond of Buddy myself. I, uh, I have to admit, though, I am curious why…” You frowned, wondering if the thing you were about to ask was presumptive. “Did…Sans tell you? About Buddy?”

“Yes, Of Course!” Buddy brought the hedgehog back again and Papyrus put it to the side, abandoning the play in favor of scratching through Buddy’s black and white fur. “We Don’t Really Keep Secrets. I’ve Known About Buddy For Quite Awhile!”

“Oh. Right.” You cleared your throat. “Then, I guess I don’t have to give you the disclaimer about his one unfortunate biting incident? Which hasn’t been repeated!” you quickly added.

Papyrus didn’t seem concerned. “The Only Thing Unfortunate About That Incident Is That Sans Still Wears That Old Hoodie!” Buddy had rolled over onto his back and if his windmill of a tail was any indication, his new skeleton friend was very good at belly rubs. “It Speaks To Buddy’s Tenacity! I Admire A Dog Who’ll Protect Himself When He’s In Trouble!”

Not many people saw it that way—an aggressive dog was just an aggressive dog, even with extenuating circumstances. Papyrus’ perspective was…refreshing.

“Well… he’s not exactly a guard dog, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you cautioned. “Mostly, he runs away if he’s in trouble, so…”

“That’s Even Better! Unnecessary Conflict Is So…Unnecessary!” Papyrus grinned broadly at you. Even with his braces, it was a totally winning smile. “I Think Buddy Will Fit Right In At Our House!”

“That’s…that’s great!” you said and you sincerely meant it. “If you’re ready to take him home today, we can go back to the front and get everything settled.”

Papyrus agreed immediately.

On the way there, he seemed compelled to assure you that he was well-prepared for Buddy’s arrival. He’d read through as much dog-ownership literature as he could find online last night and purchased all the essentials as soon as the stores had opened this morning: kibble, a bed, a leash and collar set with bones on them—and how fashion-forward was it of dog-accessories to include bones in their designs? Papyrus was very impressed!

“…And Of Course, He’ll Get Plenty Of Exercise, I’ve Been Looking For A Jogging Buddy And He Already Has The Right Name For It!”

You laughed. “Papyrus, I can’t tell you how great that is to hear. I love knowing my dogs are going somewhere good for them. You know half the people who adopt don’t even fill out the form all the way?”

Papyrus looked at the piece of paper you handed to him. He flipped it over to see the blank backside and frowned. “What, Seriously???”

“Seriously. It's not technically required, mostly for record-keeping, so people just don't do it or leave a bunch of blanks. You wouldn’t believe how many of those have no addresses because people couldn’t be bothered to remember what street they lived on.”

“………” Papyrus started snickering. “Oh My God, How Embarrassing… Nyeh-Heh-Heh, I Really Shouldn’t Laugh,” he said, grabbing a pen and jotting down his information. “That Sounds Like Exactly The Kind of Thing Sans Would Do.”

“Does it really?”

“Sadly, Yes. If I’d Left This Up To Him, It Would All Be Blank Except For Maybe His Name. And Then He Wouldn’t Turn It In. And I’d Find It Three Weeks Later Crumpled Up In His Trash-Tornado.”

“That sounds…exactly right, actually.” Sorry, Sans, can’t defend you against completely true accusations!

The lobby was quiet for a few moments, filled only by the sound of Buddy’s panting and the scratching of the pen.

Then Papyrus spoke up again. “Actually… Is…. Feel Free Not To Answer, If It’s Something You Don’t Feel Comfortable Discussing, But… Sans.”

You waited for him to finish his thought, but he didn’t. “Yes?” you prompted.

“He’s Not… Is He Like That Here?” Papyrus asked you, looking concerned. “I Know He’s Not Technically ‘Employed,’ But… He Does Things Here, Right? He Doesn’t Just… I Don’t Know, Sit In The Break Room All Day And Look Busy When Someone Important Walks By?”

You blinked, startled by the thought. “No, he doesn’t do that. He’s a big help around here. Actually,” you added, sheepish and a little quiet in case your voice carried, “I was kind of upset he wasn’t in today, ‘cause I don’t think I’m gonna get as much done without him around to lend a hand.”

You may as well have told Papyrus it was his birthday and every other holiday combined into one.

“Really? Oh, That’s Great!” He pressed a hand to his chest and heaved out a relieved sigh. You weren’t quite sure how that worked with a skeleton, but there it was. “I’m So Glad He’s Being Productive. I Knew This Place Would Be Good For Him! He’s Even Made Two Wonderful Friends!”

Oh, that meant you and Buddy, didn’t it? You think you might be flushing a little, but try to play it cool.

You and Papyrus get the adoption fee and all the other logistical stuff taken care of and soon enough, “That’s it, Buddy’s all yours, free and clear!”

“Thank You So Much For Your Assistance! And Obviously, Call Me Anytime!”

You paused. “Call you?”

“Yes, Of Course! My Number Is On The Form.” Papyrus seemed to notice you were still confused. “Sans Mentioned You May Want To Come Visit Buddy From Time To Time. You Seem Almost As Busy As I Am, We’d Probably Need To Align Schedules At Some Point To Make It Work.”

Sans mentioned…?

You put a pin in your train of thought. Hesitantly, you got out your phone and pulled the piece of paper closer. “Are you sure that’s alright?” you asked, just to make sure. “I, uh… I can’t say I don’t want to see Buddy again sometime, but….”

“Nonsense, Any Friend Of Sans Is Welcome Over Whenever.” Papyrus gave another quick pat to Buddy’s head. “And Any Friend Of Buddy Is Doubly Welcome!”

Good enough for you! You put his number in your contacts, just under ‘Papyrus’ for now. “You know,” you said as you did so, “we could be friends, too. If you wanted.”

When you looked up from your phone, you found Papyrus staring at you like…well, like he didn’t know what to say.

“…Really?”

“Sure?” Offering to be friends with somebody shouldn’t have been able to put a look of such touched elation on their face, but there was Papyrus looking like you’d just offered him the moon in a few short words.

“Oh! Well, That’s! That’s Fantastic! I Accept!” He was blushing blue again even as he laughed that cute laugh of his. “A Friend, Wowie!” He seemed to remember Buddy at his feet. “Two Friends! What A Day! I’m Sorry To Leave So Suddenly, But I Think I Have Some Energy to Run Off Right Now, Do You Mind?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “Go bond with your new dog.”

“I Will, And Thank You Again! Come Along, Buddy!”

Buddy spared a glance at you, seeming to wonder why you weren’t coming with, but he wasn’t concerned enough to hesitate more than a second before trotting after Papyrus out the door.

Buddy didn’t need to worry about never seeing you again, after all. Neither did you, for that matter.

All thanks to a certain meddling skeleton.

A skeleton that you called the second you went off the clock for lunch.

“y’ello?” he answered after a couple rings, sounding a little like you’d just woken him up.

You didn’t waste time feeling guilty about it. “Hey, did you tell your brother to adopt Buddy?”

“heheh, what? no.”

“Really? Because he said—”

“look, i don’t tell Papyrus to do anything,” Sans said flatly. “…but maybe i did mention that the cool dog was up for adoption, the one who tried to eat my terrible jacket that Pap hates. and that my pal at the shelter might be a little, uh… sad if he went real far away and they couldn’t see ‘im anymore. if he decided to go pick buddy up after that, that’s just serendipity, y’know?”

You huffed out an incredulous breath. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“did what?”

“You adopted a dog for me!”

“he’s a good dog. Papyrus can tire ‘im out when he’s not at work or studying and i’m not at the shelter every day, so i got ‘im the rest of the time. that’s what you were worried about, right? buddy gettin’ left alone too much?”

“Well…yeah.”

“so, problem solved, right? plus you can have visitation an’ stuff. long as you pay child support.”

You snorted loudly. “Child support?”

“yeah, child support. he was your son first.”

“He’s not my— what even is ‘child support’ in this scenario?”

Sans sounded like he was thinking it over. “mmm…lunch for a month?”

“…you’re kidding.”

“you’re right, two months.”

“That’s not how haggling works!”

“drivin’ a hard bargain, huh? okay, a week.”

You finally broke down giggling. “Fine,” you laugh, “fine, a week.”

“oh, nice, i didn’t think that would actually work.”

What a goober.

“Oh my god. Okay, sorry to bug you on your day off, you can go back to bed now, I guess.”

“bold of you to assume i ever left it.”

“And Sans?”

“yeah?”

“Thanks.” It seemed weak. Not enough of a word to convey the warm gratitude you felt bubbling up in your chest when you thought about what he’d just done for you—him and his brother both.

It was weak, but it was all you could think to say.

“forget about it,” Sans said simply.

And that was that.

You got on with your day, going to lunch, coming back and dealing with your duties and that damn new guy, but the whole time, in the back of your mind, you were thinking, He adopted a dog for me. He sent Papyrus to adopt Buddy so I wouldn’t be sad.

You were starting to think that maybe you were in trouble here.

Your relationship with your ‘pretty good friend’ was starting to feel an awful lot like a crush.

-

Later that night, Sans texted you first.

PUNbelievable: hey, sounds like you made my bro real happy today. thanks, he deserves to have more good stuff in his life.

So do you, was your first thought, but something told you Sans might not see it your way.

You: Sure, he’s as cool as you said he was, but don’t think you’re off the hook about that Rocky thing because I forgot earlier. I’m gonna ask him next time and then you’re busted!

PUNbelievable: lol

You had almost mustered enough irritation to be playfully annoyed at him when he sent another message.

PUNbelievable: [IMG-13]

It was picture of Buddy curled up on a bare mattress in a dark room—Sans’ room—with a big bony hand settled on his withers mid-fur-ruffle.

PUNbelievable: somebody’s making himself right at home, guess life over here ain’t so ruff.

…Okay, yep. You were crushing.

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#fur a good time call #undertale #fanfiction #sans #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic