#she manages to get herself upside down and they both scream in shock and joy

[samarecharm]

I should add poledancing to the list of odd talents that Akira has but has no business having due to growing up in a small suburban town. I only had access to it bc i had a YMCA that had a MASSIVE gym (in a criminally underfunded part of the city); there were poles put up alongside some other structures to allow counselors to make up some shit for us to do lmao

Hes got a flair about him; speaking from experience, it is FUN to do gymnastic shit like that, and its really really REALLY good for ur core. Other things on the list are basic gymnastics (he hates that shit tho, the classes he took sucked ass), Parkour (loves this; less about running and more about utilizing ur core and bracing for falls), and Knife Flipping/Spinning. Theyre all odd things that coincidentally ended up being VERY good experience for the metaverse :) YEAH the metaverse makes it easier to pull off tricks, but he already knew how to do all those things; you cant get Ryuji or Yusuke to spin kick off a pole wo having them fall and bust their ass- Its ALL skill babey

#chattin #akira #i also hc him as someone who Can do yoga but hates doing it alone bc its boring #but he LIVES off of attention #and being good at doing extreme yoga poses will give u ppls undivided attention LMAO #hes like. before i learn this thing. is it Cool? and will it make people say ‘what the fuck?’ out loud? #i feel like he wouldnt tell anyone about anything voluntarily #ann makes a comment about pole dancing bc shes seen some of the older models do it #and it just seems so impossibly out of reach for her. and hes like. do u have a trainer? i could help #‘what do u mean help???’ ‘what else would that mean? help you Do the Thing bc i know how to Do it’ #ann is the only person whos seen it outside of the metaverse. hes a bit clumsy w more extreme poses but hes good at spinning :)! #she manages to get herself upside down and they both scream in shock and joy #the whole time ive been writing im like. i wonder if theres some people i can find in my area #im working out again and pole dancing would be fun #or rock climbing tbh #i just like climbin on shit like a little monkey lol

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Fitz’s sibling would include

SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SHOW

With your childhood, it made you close but cautious about who you told about it.

You both worry about each other constantly.

You had smarts, but action was always your thing.

So, you became an agent at the academy and Fitz went to Sci-Ops.

You are introduced to Simmons via Fitz after they become friends.

You become close to her. She becomes like a sister to you.

Despite the rivalry between Sci-Ops and the Academy, you and Fitz still act like you were.

You call each other all the time during your training and grade taking.

When the time comes for Coulson’s team, he picks you as well.

He wouldn’t want to split you both up.

You both are elated to see the other. Hugging as soon as you saw each other.

However, seeing what you do in the field just makes him concerned as you are always in danger.

You always assure him that you’ll be ok. As you have your friend Ward having your back.

As the year progresses, he becomes more at ease as you all become friends with the team and he gets used to you leaving on misisons.

At first he has the wrong idea about you and Ward (that you are a thing) but you quickly clear things up.

When Ward betrays you, Fitz is hurt. But he can see that you are far more hurt by it than he ever could be.

They were like brothers. But you had known the man longer than Fitz ever would.

You go with Fitzsimmons to the BUS, both being caught by Ward.

You fight with Ward to defend Fitz and Simmons. They are helpless and only watch you.

You manage to hold your own, but are then forced to watch as the pair are dropped in the ocean.

You manage to get out, but it’s Jemma that greets you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N....I couldn’t stop him.”

You never blame Jemma for what happened. You assure her it wasn’t her fault.

Despite how much you both care for Fitz (in different ways obviously) you both distance yourself from him.

When Jemma goes undercover, you throw yourself into more and more missions.

Skye tries to get you to go and talk to him, but you always freeze whenever she does.

“I’m sure he’d appriciate it, Y/nn.”

“I’m sure he would. But....he’s different.”

“He’s still your brother.”

“I know.”

He’s hurt by your apparent abandonement, feeling alone.

So, you go up to him.

“Hey...Fitz.”

He is with Mack at the time, but the man seems to be a little more lineant with you than others.

“Hey.” He’d say, scratching his head.

“How have you been?” You ask.

“Good, uh, good yeah. You?”

You nod, “....Good. I’m glad your hanging on in there.”

“...Yeah -- yeah, me too.”

It’s awkward. Very awkward.

You don’t know how to adapt to this new version of him.

Mack tries to help. And, for the most part, is succesful in this part.

Overtime, you understand how to adapt. But you also recognise that, despite some adjustments, he’s still your brother.

When Jemma returns, you try and help meand their dynamic.

“She’s your best friend, Fitz.”

“She left.”

“I did too.”

“....That’s differet. Your family.”

“And she’s not.”

“We....left things in a weird place.”

You have to admit, Fitz having feeling for Jemma was not something you saw coming.

But, you support him.

As the year continues, you check in on them and help both as much as you can.

When Simmons is taken, you go with Fitz wherever he goes.

You know he can be self destructive at the worst of times. So you stay with him as he desperatly searches for Simmons.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” He’d keep telling you.

“I have to, Fitz. You’re my brother, and she’s family.” Is what you’d always say in response.

When he jumps, you scream out his name.

But you let out a sob of joy when you see him and Simmons unharmed.

When Fitz is taken, you go all in on finding him.

You even go to Maveth and play a part in beating Ward.

As you punch him, you tell him, “Don’t. You. Ever. Hurt. My. Family!”

You both go back. You both are embraced by Simmons and Daisy.

When Daisy gets taken by Hive, you and Fitzsimmons do all you can to find a cure for your best friend/sister.

When Fitz is hurt by Daisy, you help him recover. But hold no ill will towards Daisy.

When the final fight with the swayed Inhumans occurs, you and Fitz fight side by side for the first time.

And, in an understatement, you work well.

You and Fitzsimmons take them down.

As the six month gap goes on, you both have moments to rest and talk.

You start working through some of the things you’d gone through to get to this.

Simmons is nothing but delighted to see her boyfriend and best friend starting to somewhat heal.

Radcliff acts in a fatherly manner to you as well. But you don’t go over alot.

Coulson fills that role instead.

Not that he wasn’t already.

When Fitz is supposedly, “dead” from the ghost wave thing, you refuse to belive it.

So, when he comes back, you hug him tightly.

When the LMD thing occurs, he comes to you and begs for you to trust him.

You, naively but obivously, do.

That lands you in almost being killed.

You are forced to stab your brother. Only to find that it was a robot.

Jemma finds you, taking your shaken form with her own to hide.

Daisy finds you both and gets you both on her side.

“Y/N, I know this is fucked up right now. But Fitz needs you, alright?”

It’s not much, but it keeps you going.

So, when you go into the framework, you find him being this monster.

You know he always has had a darkness to him from his past, but seeing it is something else.

You, meanwhile, seemed to somewhat embrace yours by being an apparent apathetic interrogater.

It is something your father praises you for.

It sickens you that both him and Fitz do.

When you reunite with the girls, you don’t know what to think.

Your entire world has been rocked upside down.

Jemma and you watch as he kills Ophelia and cry out.

When confronting your father, he is genuinly shocked to see you. 

Jemma isn’t the one to kill him. You are.

Jemma comforts you the best she can.

“You saved me, Y/N.”

“I -- I killed him.”

This shakes you.

Daisy tries her best as well.

“He was a monster.”

“He made a monster out of me.”

“No, he didn’t. You fought back against it, Y/N.”

You get a call from your brother.

“I never expected this from you, Y/N. My own blood. You can consider yourself a traitor and stipped of the Fitz name.”

You drop the phone and break down, being comforted by your two best friends.

When you escape, he shoots you in the leg as well as Jemma.

He puts the pistol to your head, “Say. It. Say, ‘I am Y/N, just Y/N.’

You are about to, when Radcliff saves you.

“Y/N bloody well is a Fitz.”

He brings you both to the portal, “I’m so sorry this happened to you, my friend. You deserve better.”

Needless to say, you both have a difficult time talking after the whole Framework thing.

Despite the happy dinner, you both sit apart.

There’s a rift now in the dynamic.

You sit on Jemma’s otherside. Making her be in between you both.

However, you are on of the poeple who are taken to the future.

You are put in the ring like Daisy.

When Fitz arrives, you can’t belive it.

However, he tries not to meet your eyes if he can’t help it.

He still hasn’t forigiven himself for the Framework and the monster that always laid within him attacking you.

When he breaks you out, you both hug. But don’t really talk.

Jemma and Daisy notice it. But don’t mention it.

They know it’s your familial issue. Not their own.

Not that they don’t want to help, of course.

In fact, it’s not until you both go back that you finally talk about it.

“Fitz....about the framework.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He knows it’s not a lot, but it’s a start more than anything.

Then the Doctor comes back.

As does your shadow.

Fitz’s one hurts Daisy.

Your own hurts yourself.

Jemma finds you nearly bleeding to death.

You are both locked up, but for different reasons.

He had a Psychotic split.

You had a suicide attempt.

She and the rest visit you.

Daisy is still a bit bossy as of this time, but she’s softer with you.

She knows what it’s like to wrestle with that.

When Fitz is broken out of his cage, so are you.

You both meet Robin and are both nearly killed by her.

The three of you are forced to work on the Destory of World device.

Robin nearly kills you all.

When Fitz dies, you are broken.

You have lost someone that was a best friend to you for a long, long time.

You, of course, say yes to going into space to find him.

You can’t just leave things in the patchy ways you left them.

Daisy and Jemma, being the sister figures they are to you, check in on you and make sure you are ok.

But, like Jemma, you are desperate to find him.

So, when she pulls the lever, you are right with her.

In Kitson, you imagine him as his younger self being happy.

Some of the visions are of him in a monkey suit, it does have to be said.

When Jemma offers herself up, you offer to go with her.

“You can’t Y/N, the rest need you.”

“And I need to see Fitz.” You argue.

She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I will take care of him, Y/N. I’ll let him know how much you care about him. If this is it, he won’t go knowing that you tried to find him.”

When they return, you hug each other fiercly.

From then on, you both seem to go back to normal.

Deke even becomes close to you.

Granted, you technically have a different role.

But you take an older sister type role with him.

You help break up the pair when they bicker.

When the timeline shifts for Fitzsimmons, you aren’t there.

So, this Fitz could be entirely different.

You constanly ask Jemma if she can tell you anything, but she keeps giving you pitying glances as she tells you she can’t.

Then, suddenly, tired and nearly out of fumes, you see him.

He lands, taking off his helmet.

He looks older, but still the same old Fitz.

“Hey, Y/N.” He utters softly as everyone watches you.

You hug, tighter than ever.

He even spins you around a little.

“You don’t know long it’s been.” He tells you.

“You have no idea, brother.”

When you meet Ayla, she’s the happiest version of both of you.

You couldn’t be happier to meet someone like that.

You stay with SHIELD, but take time off to visit them.

When you can’t, you have chats remotly in the bar.

When you do visit, it’s like you can almost fix some of the wrongs you both had in your troubled childhood.

Fitz is the best dad to Ayla.

And you are the best Aunt/Uncle/Pibling to your Niece.

You both have been through so much. But you had each other.

You wouldn’t trade any of it for where you ended up.

#leopold fitz imagine #Leopold Fitz Headcannon #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield x reader #agents of shield headcannon

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 95 (Bastila, Carth)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 94. Chapter 96.

CW: Lime

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

———–

“… so it’s pitch-black, right, I can’t find my pants anywhere, and there’s something growling outside my tent.” I recount the story to Carth, both of us sitting on containers in the cargo hold. Passing the bottle of Tarisian ale back and forth. Carth laughs, as well he should, it’s a funny story. In hindsight, anyway. “I’ve got my T1 unit’s head in my lap, I was trying to upgrade its sensors so it could get a more nuanced readout to find the exact thing that was outside my tent!” He laughs again, tears starting to come out of his eyes. “My tent mate is closer to the entrance, she’s sitting there in a panic, because she knows this is her fault --”

“Why the hell did she take that egg in the first place?” he says between laughs.

“I told her it was a bad idea, but did she listen to the ecologist? Noooo - God forbid Tania ever admit she was wrong about something. But I was like, you’re a freaking anthropologist, you should have realized how taboo it was in the local culture to take one of those freaking eggs! Screw your breakfast - you’re about to be dinner! And I’m sitting there like, you are not taking me with you. But we are both frozen until we see the tent flap open and this giant nose pokes in.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Right? And I panic, I just chuck the droid head, Tania screams and ducks, but now I’m sure I just pissed this thing off even worse so we’re both screwed. And now Tania’s screams have woken not only the rest of our team, but the Mandalorians who also made a camp in the ravine. You know, the same Mandalorians she had antagonized earlier? And I wasn’t about to save her ass again - if Arus wanted to fight her, at this point, I didn’t give a shit.”

“Man, you’re heartless!” he joked.

“This was the tenth time in half as many days she had threatened my life with her bullshit - even I have my limits! And by the way, this was not the last time we were in life-threatening situations on this mission. But after this time she was far more willing to actually listen to me. But anyway, so the Mandalorians were pissed and Arus was out for blood, but first he had to take out this animal, which was too huge for even a Mandalorian to take out alone. He gathered a few of his men and they took care of it in no time. I finally managed to find my pants so I finally get out of the tent to get a good look at this thing, and it is. Huge. Arus split the meat with us and there was still way too much. Afterwards he was still a bit thrilled by the kill so Tania thought it was fine, but then she got cocky and tried to play it off, got in Arus’ face again, but he was having none of it. He looked her dead in the eye with that Mandalorian intimidation glare and said ‘I should have known you were behind this.’ And her face drops. He’s like ‘Is it your goal in life to challenge as many combatants as foolishly as you can?’ Calling her out big time. ‘And for what, this time?’ So she goes into her bag and pulls out the egg. Arus takes it and smashes it on the ground. And you’ll never guess what happened next.”

“Tell me.”

“The egg? The one that almost got us killed? Was made of WOOD!” Carth breaks down hard, cannot contain his mirth. “A Sith scout team had been there earlier, a bit of a rival of mine, and thought it would be a fun prank on me to swap out one of the eggs with a wooden one. He told me about it later, but he had just planned to frustrate me. When I told him he almost killed me with that shit, he never stopped apologizing.” I take the bottle from Carth. “And that is my worst story. What have you got?” I ask as I take a drink.

“Nothing that good,” he says, “You’ve got me beat.”

“Oh, come on, no war stories where you got screwed over hard? No piloting lessons where you came out of a nebula upside down?”

“My life has been boring compared to yours, if that story is any indication.”

“Hey, I have plenty far more mundane stories - that planet was just a wild ride from start to finish. If Arus was here, he’d tell you the same thing. Albeit, he and I did have different definitions of wild.”

“I thought you had just crossed paths with him - did he hang around for the rest of the scouting trip?”

“That was the first time we met him, but he kept finding excuses to hang around our campsites. The shameless flirt that he was, I’m amazed he never just came out and said he was into me.”

There’s that face of his again. He gets so uncomfortable when I make off-hand mentions of former partners. “You don’t need to be jealous, Carth. The very nature of a scouting fling is that it’s temporary. The few times something has gone on longer than a single mission we quickly got sick of each other.”

“I guess,” he shrugs. Is there… something else on his mind?

But before I can ask, Canderous comes in behind us. “Hey, Rena,” he says. to get my attention.

“Something up?” I ask.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, Canderous,” Carth says gruffly.

“And ordinarily I wouldn’t interrupt,” he says before looking back at me, “but Bastila wants to talk to you.”

Oh joy and rapture. I scoff. “If she wants to talk to me so bad she can come see me herself.”

“What happened?” Carth asks.

“Long story, I’ll tell you later,” I shake my head. “I’m not going to her, she’ll have to come to me.”

“She won’t,” Canderous says, “not this time, but I can tell if she doesn’t say what she needs to say she’ll never forget it.” Oh yeah? “She regrets that things aren’t working as smoothly as they could between the two of you.”

“Bastila regrets something?” Well there’s a shock. “Jedi princess admits a wrong?”

“Look, I get that you’re upset with her, I understand,” he says, trying not to get angry at me, “and you’re right, she needs to keep her nose out of your business.” At least he’s on my side. “But she’s as proud and as stubborn as you are and admitting something like this is hard for her. Would you just let her say what she has to say?”

I sigh heavily. “Fine,” I say and I stand up. I set the ale down on the container. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” Carth says.

I follow Canderous to the port side quarters, where Bastila is sitting and meditating. When we cross the threshold she opens her eyes and sighs. “Canderous, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Like hell, I didn’t,” he says, “You’re not the only one who can read the tension in a room. Now, I don’t care if you two want to talk this out or use your fists, but I’m not letting either of you leave until that happens.”

Oh, for God’s sake. I’m pretty sure I could take Canderous in a fight but that’s the wrong way to go here. I idly look around the room before feeling Canderous’ glare on me and look at Bastila. “If you try talking to me about giving into my emotions again, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Our conversations on that topic have a tendency to end abruptly, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” she says.

“Well, it’s not exactly my fault that happens, is it?”

“No, you’re right. I do share fault for that,” she sighs, “I admit I have questions, and perhaps a Master could have addressed them all with the proper wisdom, but I never should have brought them up here. And not with you.” Canderous shifts behind me, and Bastila must be reading him. “It’s not solely about you, Canderous,” she says, before turning back to me, ”Or even about you and Carth. It’s… “ She stops, orders her thoughts, and starts again. “Part of my purpose on this mission was to guide you in the way of the light; to help you avoid the temptations of the Dark Side. But I fear I've failed in that task.” What makes you say that? I haven’t fallen to the Dark Side. I’ve done nothing but help people for the past two months, even before I knew her. “I don't think I'm the proper Jedi to guide you. I am no Master. You should have remained with the Council.”

“I have no idea where this is coming from,” I say, “Even if you take Carth out of the equation - and that’s an argument we’re not having again, because there is no way you can without being hypocritical and you know it - I haven’t fallen to the Dark Side.”

“The fact of the matter is that I have never possessed much skill at controlling myself,” she says, “With the bond that joins us, it seems I have even less. You have maintained the path of the Light Side, yes, but it has been in spite of my influence, not because of it. It is increasingly obvious I am unable to guide you properly.” She sighs again. She feels very anxious and upset. “I think… I think I may have made a very big mistake. I simply hope that you are not the one who pays the price, ultimately, for the fact that I can't help you enough.”

There was definitely an apology in there somewhere, even if it wasn’t in so many words. But we still disagree on a major point and if she — “This has nothing to do with our respective relationships, I assure you,” she says. Reading me again. “As Jolee is the closest thing either of us have to a Master, he has been kind enough to consult me on these matters, and I have come to the conclusion that we should both let the matter lie.” Hey, I’ve been willing to do that. But that means her concerns make even less sense.

“Honestly, I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” I say, “I mean, I already had impulse issues, so a lot of what you’re feeling might be me influencing you rather than the other way around. This bond works both ways, right?”

She smiles softly. “That’s a kinder response than I deserve,” she says, “And I can see there is wisdom in your words. Perhaps you can help me then.”

“On the impulse front? I’ll do my damnedest - so long as you don’t start building droids in the middle of the night. That’ll be lesson one - don’t do that.”

She laughs a little. “I will leave that in your capable hands,” she says, “Hopefully this will all work out, for the both of us. And for the sake of the mission.”

“Good!” Canderous says suddenly, “And with that settled, you are free to go.” He moves away from the door and lets me leave. Glad that’s over with, Carth and I really were in the middle of something. He seemed more bothered by the interruption than I was but that’s probably because he had something to say and Canderous broke his train of thought.

Carth’s still in the cargo hold, like he said he’d be. He’s taken his jacket off. Hot damn, he’s got some strong arms. It’s a good thing he keeps that jacket on all the time, otherwise I’d never get anything done. He’s also moved so that he can lean against the wall. He looks at me when I come in. “Everything all right with Bastila?”

“Yeah, she‘s agreed to stop being nosy in my personal life,” I say.

“Oh, because you’ve never been nosy in our personal lives,” he says sarcastically.

“Yeah, but I’m also not a hypocrite,” I say, “For weeks she’s been riding me about the Dark Side and my feelings for you, and the whole time she’s got the same thing going on with Canderous. So yeah, naturally I was quite pissed about that.”

“You’ve had feelings about me for weeks and didn’t say anything?”

I shake my head and sit back down next to him. “Somehow I knew that would be the part you heard,” I say, “In my defense, I’m not accustomed to making the first move. Every other time it’s been someone thinking with their crotch sick of beating around the bush with me. And it was different before anyway. This is different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“At the moment?” I say, “Good different.” He smiles at me. I love his smile. He’s just so soft. When he actually gets soft, that is. “But anyway,” I say, “Before Canderous came in, you wanted to say something.”

“Oh, you could tell, could you?”

I scoff and take the ale from him. “It doesn’t take Jedi powers to read you, Carth, believe me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Oh, excellent, it’s play time. “Well, listen, beautiful, I don’t need to take this abuse. I get enough female Jedi bashing from Bastila, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I get it, there’s something between you and Bastila.”

He sputters, like I’ve caught him completely off-guard. “What? No! I mean… no! Don’t be crazy!”

“So someone would have to be crazy to like Bastila, huh? I’ll have to tell her that!”

“Oh, no, you don’t!”

“Or better yet!” Better idea! “I’ll tell Canderous! Oh, Canderous?”

“Don’t you dare!” he says playfully, “I’d have to shoot you down first, and I’m not kidding!”

“Sure, sure,” I say sarcastically, “You’re all talk, Carth, and you know it.”

“And just what would you do if I wasn’t?” I open my mouth to answer, but he stops me before I can. “No, no, wait, don’t answer that,” he says quite wisely, “I don’t want to know.” He shakes his head and smiles, sighing. “Anyway… as fun, uh, as this is, I do have to talk to you about something serious. Really serious.” It must be if you’re stopping the game.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. What has my Bunny Man in distress?

“I’m uh… I’m concerned about you. I’ve been keeping these thoughts to myself, mostly, but with this… if we… “ Find your words, Carth. “I think it’s time I say something.”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about you,” he says, “I’m worried about what might happen to you.” Well, this is the second time that’s come up in conversation today, but somehow Carth’s concern feels more genuine than Bastila’s. “You have a lot of courage, and the fact that you’ve remained strong is amazing, but there’s even greater danger ahead. I think you might be setting yourself up for a fall. Maybe at the urging of the Jedi, I don’t know… but you’re definitely going to become a target.” I can feel a lot of pain from him. He tries to block it from me, I’m not sure if that’s an accident or on purpose, but I can feel it, anyway. “If, uh, if I’m going to find some purpose beyond taking revenge on Saul, then it’s going to have to be in protecting you.” Protecting me from what? He’s seen me fight - what does he think is out there that I can’t handle? “I don’t know why, but I think some terrible fate is waiting for you. I think the Jedi Council knows it, too. And I don’t want it to come to pass.”

“You think the Jedi have thrown me to the wolves?”

“Don’t call it up to my paranoia just yet.” I wasn’t. Carth has a good - and attractive - head on his shoulders and I trust his instincts. (Well… most of the time. His instinct to not trust me was obviously wrong.) “Something isn’t right. I blamed it on you, before, but I… I think the Jedi didn’t tell us everything.” Which is hardly out of character for them . “If I’m going to live past Saul, I need you to, as well. Let me protect you… from yourself, from the Sith, from… whatever, you have to let me try.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” I say seriously, “but… you’ve seen me fight, you’ve watched me in action. I don’t need that kind of protection. Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” he says slowly, and with difficulty, “... because I never got the chance to save my wife and son. Because I didn’t stop Saul when I had the chance. Because I finally have the chance to do it right. You are an extraordinary woman… you make me think that maybe I might have some purpose beyond revenge. I don’t know whether it means anything to you… but it does to me.”

Oh, my God, this is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. ”It means a lot to me, Carth,” I say, “Thank you.”

He smiles softly. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll do my best.”

I just… can’t stop looking at him. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. How much I love him. Ever since Taris. Ever since I woke up in that mangy apartment. He’s always been there for me. And it was only a couple days ago that I really realized that I love him. Maybe I just didn’t want to think about it. As a scout you get used to being part of a tight-knit group of people for a few months, a year tops, and then you split and never see each other again. The few times I stuck with someone for longer than one mission, we were dating, and like I said before we would always and very quickly get sick of each other. You start to notice little things that didn’t bother you before but suddenly they’re all you notice. Chewing with their mouth open. Feet that smell like death. A grating voice. And for whatever reason you just can’t live with it anymore.

I’m going to miss this group a lot when we split. Oh, they’ll say we won’t. I know one of them will say, “no, we’re a family, we’ll always be together.” But I also know from experience that it doesn’t work like that. Bastila will go back to the Council. Juhani has a lot to work through on her own. Mission is still a kid with her whole life ahead of her. Zaalbar has a government to lead. Canderous will go wherever Bastila goes. It’s anyone’s guess what Jolee will do. Leaving me and my droids. The way it’s always been. The way I’m used to.

But with Carth… Loving him means I’ll want him to stick around. And maybe he will, maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll want to, but he’s still a Republic soldier, he may not have a say in where he goes. And if he doesn’t want to stick around, it’ll hurt, sure, but it would hurt worse if he stays. Because I know what will happen then. We’ll get sick of each other. That’s how it always happens. We’ll have a few months of passionate sex and casual flirting before we each drive the other crazy. I don’t want that, I don’t want to get sick of him. But we have nothing in common beyond this mission. We‘re close due to circumstances. It’s happened to me at least a dozen times before. And I don’t want it to happen again.

But I love him. And as much as it could hurt me, I wouldn’t stop loving him even if I could. This feels so different than anything I’ve felt before. Like it’s… right somehow. And I don’t want to mess up a good thing. It makes me nervous but it’s a good nervous.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me softly, taking another drink of ale.

“I’m… “ I start to say slowly, “… really glad I met you.”

He smiles at me. “I’m glad I met you, too,” he says in that same soft voice. He gets close to my face, just like before. His eyes close. And it doesn’t take a Jedi to know what’s going on, I’ve seen it all before. And I want it. He kisses me gently.

And he doesn’t stop kissing me.

One. Another. Another, pressing his lips into mine. Continuing what we started in the cantina. But no one will bother us this time - I reach out with the Force and close the door to the cargo hold. Carth notices but doesn’t stop or say anything. And I don’t want him to. I want this. He takes my head into his hand and I lean into it. His other hand brushes mine and I take it, our fingers locking together. And between kisses he whispers softly, “I love you.”

“I love you,” I whisper back. And he kisses me again, And again. And again. I unfasten my belt and my lightsabers clatter on the floor. He pulls me closer and I loosen my tunic a little. I can feel this. I want this. More than anything I want this.

Somehow, I know this is a bad idea. If this goes bad it could ruin our entire relationship, either as friends or more than friends. This is the point of no return. And hoping for shit has gotten me in trouble when things don’t work out. But this also feels so, so right, more right than anything has this whole time. He’s right, things have been a little off somehow since Taris. The Jedi adding me to the Endar Spire at the last minute. I’m an ecologist, why did they need me? The Jedi accepting me for training - Master Vandar said I was a special case? What did that mean? The Star Map on Kashyyyk seemed to recognize me, when I’ve never been to Kashyyyk in my life, much less down on the surface. There have just been so many little things that seem to add up to a great big something, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. But as crazy as things have been, and as crazy as they might get, Carth will still be here. Carth will still be Carth.

I come close, wrapping my legs around him, and he holds me. Which is a great feeling and we haven’t even done anything yet. As he runs his fingers through my hair, I feel loved, so loved, more than I’ve ever felt before. Even if this doesn’t last, and I hope to God it does, it will still be the best I’ve felt my whole life.

--------

He holds me close after. Which is not only sweet, it’s also great because the cargo hold is a lot colder than you’d expect. I wrap myself up in his jacket and cuddle closer. “Have I mentioned how much I love this jacket?” I say.

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says, smiling. And then he sighs. “We should probably go to bed,” he says. 

“You mean sleep here or go back to our bunks?” I ask, “Because that would be a horrible idea.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“For one thing,” I say, trying to look at his face, “I can guarantee you Bastila already knows about this because of that damned Force bond. If she’s spending the night with Canderous, she’ll hem and haw and stew about this despite her promise to shut up about it. But she won’t need to say anything because Juhani will also be there. She’ll be disappointed in me and go on and on about the Dark Side and Jedi attachments so Bastila won’t have to. Mission will try to be my girlfriend and goad me into telling her what happened like we’re two teenage girls at a slumber party. And she really doesn’t want to know.” I know these girls. I know all of that is exactly what would happen the minute I walk into the starboard quarters. “When you go back, Canderous will --”

“You’re right, that is a horrible idea,” he says before I can even finish, because he knows as well as I do that Canderous is going to be insufferable, as a man, as a Mandalorian, and especially as a matchmaker. He’s been trying to put us together since Dantooine. “But we can’t exactly sleep in here, can we? They’re going to come looking for us in the morning. Besides the fact that it’s cold as hell in here.”

“We can grab some blankets from the emergency supplies,” I suggest, “Or we could get dressed again.”

“Let’s grab the blankets,” he says quickly, and he starts to get up to grab them from the plasteel cylinder.

“You slut,” I tease, “If you wanted to see me naked you could have asked sooner.”

He comes back to me with the blankets and drapes one around my shoulders, over the jacket. “It’s not just that,” he says, “Or the fact that you look damn good in my jacket.” He spreads one blanket on the floor, sits down on it and pulls me close again, lying down. He kisses me, and runs his fingers through my hair, sending goosebumps rippling through my body. “I just…” he starts to say softly, sweetly, “…like how this feels. And I don’t want it to end.”

I curl in closer. “Me neither.”  

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #fiction #autistic artist #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #revanasi #lime #swearing tw #bastila shan #canderous ordo #bastila x canderous #canderous x bastila #korriban #chapter 95

[franstastic-ideas]

Reali-tea Is the Most Difficult Blend to Swallow

Yandere Altertale AU -  Frisk was so lucky to have been found by Sans during her time of need, at least, that’s what she had thought at first. The skeleton has been so kind, opening up his home to her, cooking meals for just the two of them, brewing her tea… and all that he asks for in return is the joy of her company. She was happy to oblige him that much, as Sans seemed to give off the impression to her of being lonely for some reason. But little did Frisk know and was soon to discover, he’s far more emotionally needy than she ever could have imagined…

Word Count: 22,220

Warnings: Several instances of yandere behavior. Pretty self-explanatory.

Also, my interpretation of the Altertale universe is probably extremely different than what’s been established in the original creator’s canon. For instance, even though they don’t appear in this story, Asgore and Toriel are apparently supposed to be siblings, but should they ever appear in Yandere Altertale, they’ll be an unrelated happily married couple.

Some of the other changes I’ve made are spoilers until the reader has finished this fic, and thus can’t be mentioned.

The creator of Yandere Altertale is @semisolidmind, so if you like this story, then make sure to send semi some appreciation and love!

And finally, Happy Early Birthday @lostmypotatoes! I was gonna wait until the 10th, but since you insisted that I post it now, you and everybody else are getting this fic six days early! Enjoy!

Frisk didn’t know how long it had been since she fell, nor how deep underground she had fallen, but what she was aware of was – she couldn’t move.

Her unintentional descent into the cavern beneath the mountain had been a long one, and it was honestly a strange sort of miracle in itself that she managed to somehow survive the impact. The bed of buttercups beneath her had cushioned her fall, but she couldn’t move. Frisk attempted to push herself up into a sitting position before a sharp pain coursed through her right leg as well as her left arm, returning the girl to her previous arrangement of lying with her back pressed against the flowers.

Both limbs were broken, she acknowledged, and that was when the panic truly began to set in.

Frisk was down here, alone in an empty cavern, injured and immobile, and this place was going to be her grave.

Nobody knew where she was, currently.

Not that anyone would come for her if her location was made known, she thought to herself with a grief-laden sigh.

“Howdy!” A cheery voice suddenly called out to her from somewhere beyond her vision, catching Frisk’s attention immediately.

“H-Hello…?” She replied weakly, trying to turn her body in the direction she had heard the greeting come from.

Just as she succeeded in turning her head, out of the corner of her eye, Frisk saw a flower similar in appearance to yet significantly larger than the others that she was absolutely certain wasn’t there before looming over her.

And even more concerning was; this particular flower had a face.

The talking flower stared down at her with beady black eyes and a cartoonishly wide dimpled smile. Frisk immediately came to the conclusion that she must have also hit her head when she had fallen, and this happy little plant was an adorable hallucination that manifested from her damaged mind, aiming to bring her comfort and security in what was to be her final moments. However, the flower then leaned even closer towards her, and that was when she felt the texture of his leaves brush over her skin when the motile plant apparently decided to poke her nose, proving that he was made of solid matter.

“Stop staring at me like that – didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to be rude! I thought you were a hallucination…”

“Nope. I’m definitely real.” He winked and stuck out his tongue, an organ that he did in fact prove to possess through this little gesture. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower! And it seems to me that you took quite the fall there! You look like you could use some help.”

“Yes, I would really appreciate it!” She pushed aside the shock of discovering a talking flower living in a remote cavern underground for the moment; she tried to move once more, even just a short distance, but her efforts once again proved to be unsuccessful. “I’m sure I’ve broken a few bones; in one leg and one arm. I’m completely immobile…”

“Oh, that’s too bad…” Flowey began to look around the surrounding area, holding both of his leafy appendages up to his squinting eyes as if they were binoculars. “And it looks like the smiley trashbag is nowhere to be found too.”

“Smiley… trashbag…?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Was there someone else that lived in this cavern as well? What did they look like? Were they a talking flower too, or something else entirely? Either way, it seemed her photosynthesizing pal wasn’t too fond of this other person, if the designated nickname was all she had to go by. Even so, Flowey still spoke of them in a continued cheery tone and the smile on his face hadn’t slipped by even the smallest of degrees.

“He could help you if he were here, but the worthless pile of bones is probably somewhere sleeping; dead to the world. Your bad luck just keeps multiplying like garden weeds, doesn’t it?” He continued with a sigh, shaking his head. “Oh well… I guess little ‘ol me will have to do…”

Before Frisk could go about questioning him of how he might possibly do that, she felt the ground around her begin to suddenly shift and tear. It seemed her petaled friend could also control the vines that bound him to the earth, because soon they were wrapping around her body, far bigger than she would have imagined them to be and lifting her into the air with ease.

She was about to ask Flowey what his plan was from here – did he intend to deliver her to this other person he previously mentioned? Or was he going to extend his vines that seemed to have no visible end upwards and return her to the surface? But Frisk didn’t get to ponder Flowey’s available options for too long before she was abruptly released from his hold and sent hurtling towards the ground again. She fell with a loud thud, but this time there wasn’t anything below her to soften the impact.

At her collision she heard the sound of something snapping coming from her own body, and an entirely new wave of pain flooded her senses.

“Oopsie! How clumsy of me!” Flowey announced, his numerous vines immediately swarming her once again before she could say anything, their grip on her being far less gentle than they had been previously. “I won’t drop you again – I promise.”

She wiggled in the vines’ hold futilely, her fight or flight instincts beginning to kick in as they grew tighter and tighter around her limbs and the rest of her body in an almost crushing hold. Frisk found herself being jerked towards Flowey until she was dangling upside down in front of his smiling face, which now looked nothing but ominous when it had just moments ago seemed friendly and helpful.

“What’s the matter, human? Don’t you trust me?” He didn’t allow her the opportunity to answer before his expression turned nightmarish, his mouth morphing into a malevolent grin that sported far too many teeth than the normal maw. “You shouldn’t… not me, or anyone else down here for that matter. Especially not me. And do you know why…?”

His whispery voice deepened to a demonic growl.

“Because in this world, i t ‘ s  k i l l  o r  b e  k i l l e d...”

He then flung Frisk against the wall of the cavern by her ankle. She barely had time to let out a wild scream of fright and agony before he slammed her face first into the ground once again, but he still wouldn’t release her, his vines still tightly wrapped around her body and placing a needless amount of pressure on her broken limbs.

“See, I kept my promise!” He cackled, his voice having returned to that higher pitched disarmingly cutesy one he had used to lure her in previously, nearly singing as he proclaimed, “I said I wouldn’t drop you, and I didn’t~!”

Frisk twitched and trembled on the cave floor, suffering and writhing. She was about to die, that much she was certain of. If not from the injuries she had already sustained, then from whatever it was Flowey intended to do with her next. She had already resigned herself to her fate before she had encountered this vile sentient plant, but this wasn’t at all how she had expected her life to end. The terror of it all coming to an abrupt yet drawn-out end at the hands of an unforeseen aggressor had paralyzed her further than before, despair welling up within her SOUL.

But before she could let this despair swallow her up completely, before Flowey could snatch her up once more and continue his abuse, she heard a loud, grotesque shriek. It echoed and bounced along the walls of the cave long after the actual scream had ended, sounding more horrendous than anything Frisk could recall ever having heard before in her life. Frisk couldn’t turn around to see just who had screamed, but she didn’t need to – it wasn’t necessary.

It was Flowey, and it sounded as though he were being put through as much pain and agony as she had been forced to endure.

She then heard another voice.

“i told you before - if i ever caught you here again, weed, you’d be in for a bad time.”

It was deep, dark, and dangerous; unlike anything she had ever heard before. Not even the raging waters of the ocean during a storm or the tempestuous winds of a cyclone could hold a candle to the pure unbridled fury she could sense lying beneath his tone, which was struggling to seem casual and relaxed but instead sounded perfervidly strained.

“the fact that you’re here must mean you were ready for what was going to happen. you only have yourself to blame for this.”

Frisk braced herself for another hideous scream from Flowey; she would have covered her ears in preparation, if only she could move her arms – she was certain that they were now both rendered immovable.

“Ah, ah, ah, trash bag.” Flowey tutted, but his labored breathing indicated that speaking was an incredibly strenuous task for him at the moment. “Aren’t you worried about the safety of the human…? Start a fight with me and there’s no telling what’ll happen! And you… you can’t kill me. You don’t have the guts for it, haha! It’s against your nature…”

Flowey was right – fighting and killing was against his nature, and he wasn’t certain if he could ever bring himself to terminate someone even as vile to the core as Flowey, even if it was for the sake of another.

And he was also correct in stating his prioritized interest in the wellbeing of the human; he cared far more about seeing that she was taken care of and her injuries tended to than settling a score with this loathsome creature without a soul that preyed on the naïveté of the fallen.

“……leave. now.”

“I was about to anyway, even if you hadn’t come along.” He sneered. “Toys aren’t any fun to play with when they’re broken, and this one’s juuuust about fallen apart. If you’d come just one minute later…”

This other person seemed to be ignoring Flowey’s commentary, or at the very least was trying to. Frisk felt herself being turned over so she was no longer lying face down, and the first thing that came into her immediate vision was Flowey lingering a short distance away; a pointed bone was stabbed through the middle of his stem like a skewer, and a thin translucent green liquid, chlorophyll she surmised, oozed out of the gaping wound it had created.

But the second thing she became conscious of was, the person now holding her was a skeleton. He was staring down at her with pitch black eye sockets and a wide unsettling grin, and the little amount of light that fluttered down from the surface above the two only enhanced the ominousness of his features in her eyes.

She let out an alarmed cry and instantly began twisting and turning as much as her weakened body would allow to escape his hold, which he struggled to maintain.

“Hahahaha! Look at her! She’s horrified by you!” Flowey cawed as he began his retreat, his vines and stem slowly sinking into the earth. “You fool… Humans will always despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”

The robed skeleton payed him no mind, his focus centering on convincing the human girl in front of him that he meant her no harm. But Flowey had already left a ghastly first impression on Frisk that wouldn’t be easily reversed; she had seen his hostile behavior as a preview for what the rest of the inhabitants of the Underground must be like, and the nasty little buttercup had only damaged this view further with the use of the word ‘monster’, the robed skeleton deduced.

Still, he refused to give up and abandon her, even if she insisted upon it.

“No… No! Get away from me!” She shrunk away from him, beginning to sob hysterically. “Just leave me alone! Please!”

“human, i need you to listen – i know you’re scared and in a lot of pain, but i’m just trying to help yo-”

“I’ve had enough ‘help’! Just go back to wherever it was you came from! Please… Please don’t hurt me…”

He inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity. He ceased any and all efforts in explaining himself or his actions. Any attempts at clarification would only be wasting precious time at this rate – if he didn’t act soon, then her condition would only worsen.

He retrieved a vial from a well concealed pocket in his robe, the liquid inside being a reddish-brown color in the light. Removing the cork, he then tilted it towards her mouth, tapping the lid against her lips and silently urging her to drink from it.

She resisted him, fighting through the pain of using both broken arms to push and smack against his chest in protest. The repeated pounding of her fists at his ribcage did little but illicit a short, stilted grunt from him, unperturbed entirely by the onslaught. When she continued to struggle despite his attempts at remaining pleasant and civil, his patience with her began to thin.

“h u m a n.” His voice abruptly deepened further to a stern growl, causing her to immediately still.

Frisk let out a surprised, uncontrollable whimper, her mouth opening just slightly as she did so. He took this opportunity to slip the vialed liquid past her lips, then swiftly tipped her head backwards so she swallowed it.

The effect was almost immediate. Her eyelids began to droop and every sensation in her body began to fade. The only thing that was left remaining was the fear she felt towards the robed skeleton. He lifted her up into his arms, gently and without a word, then began walking to somewhere further in the cavern.

“That vial… was that poison…?” Frisk was struggling to remain conscious. “…Am I dying?”

“no, pumpkin. you’re not dying.” He cooed softly, leaning down to nuzzle the top of her head. “if anything, i’m trying to keep that from happening.”

She grew quiet and still, and for a moment he thought that she must have succumbed to what was in the vial he had given her. But a minute later, he heard her weakly question,

“Where… where are you taking me?”

Her voice sounded so small, so scared…

“somewhere safe, where i can take care of you. get you the help you need.” He felt her flinch at the word ‘help’.

 That awful, wretched flower…

 “Please don’t hurt me…” She shuddered in his arms.

 “i won’t.” He asserted, his voice low.

 “Promise me you won’t.” She said with such desperation that it made his SOUL ache with fierce pangs of pity for her current condition.

 He hesitated.

 But only for a second before he solemnly replied, “i promise.”

 His oath sounded so sincere.

 “now get some sleep, human. i know you’ve gotta be tired.” The skeleton cradled her closer to his sturdy build with large, strong arms in a manner that Frisk would almost consider to be protective.

 Frisk wanted to take his words at face value, to earnestly believe that he held no ill will towards her - but if he did indeed intend to harm her, then there was little she could do about it now.

 Her heavy eyelids shut, and she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 When Frisk finally awoke, she once again was unaware of how much time had passed since blacking out, but she did know that her body felt immeasurably heavy – almost certainly an aftereffect of whatever was in that liquid the skeleton had fed her. She could barely even lift her head, the properties of that concoction were so strong. She was every bit as immobile as when she first fell into the cavern, the only difference being that thankfully, Frisk wasn’t in any pain.

 Her limbs were wrapped up in bandages, she discovered, when she finally accomplished the simple task of turning her head to the side. They seemed professional, as expertly done as the work from any doctor found in a hospital. Oddly, her dressings were tied together with little white bows in several places – there was no practical or particular cause for her caretaker to have arrayed them this way, if only to amuse her when she awoke.

 Frisk spent the next few minutes taking in her new surroundings; she was laying on a soft, cushy single bed that was coincidentally just her size, not too big or too small for her height. The sheets were crisp and clean, and atop them was a quilt that appeared to be hand-knitted, with white and light blue hearts and bones scattered across the fabric’s design displayed in an elaborate pattern. She didn’t know much about knitting, but it must have taken a great amount of patience and skill from its weaver to have created such an ornate duvet. Every stitch that went into the needlework was without flaw; precise in its arrangement and absolutely beautiful.

 Laying next to her was… a stuffed animal, of some sort. Frisk wouldn’t be sure how to recount the thing’s appearance if someone asked her to. Its body was vaguely humanoid and without color, a pale white, but that was as far as she could get in her mental description of the toy. Those big black button eyes bore into her relentlessly, and even though it appeared to be just a child’s plaything in every single way, she couldn’t deny that its constant gaze unnerved her just slightly. Once again, there was no other conceivable reason why it would be present at her bedside other than to bring her some comfort or cheer.

 To the left and on the floor was a toy chest a short distance away, as well as a cabinet for clothes. That was as much as Frisk could make out of the rest of the room – there was a lamp in the corner of the room, but it had been turned off out of concern of it disturbing her sleep had it been left on. The remainder of the room was plunged into darkness, but Frisk did catch a small sliver of light slipping through the door, which was opened just a crack.

 Just as she turned her attention towards it, the door began to slowly creak open and the golden light outside from the hallway flooded into the small room. A skull then popped into her view, belonging to the skeleton that had carried her off earlier. His white eyelights were focused on her bedridden form, seeming concerned, or perhaps that was a trick from the combination of light and shadow playing with her eyes?

 But as he stepped towards her, there was something about him that did make the skeleton seem far less sinister to her compared to before. Maybe it was the small surprised gasp that fell from his mouth, or the way his eye sockets widened and the white spheres within them shrunk, or even how the grin on his face slipped as a faint blue blush spread over his cheekbones when he saw Frisk’s head suddenly turn to face his direction.

 The two stared at each other in silence for several moments before he managed to find his voice.

 “i… thought you were still asleep.” He tugged nervously at the ends of his sleeves. “…how long have you been awake for?”

 “Not long. Just a few minutes, I think.” Frisk answered cautiously, still wary of him and his intentions. “…How long have I been asleep?”

 “about twenty-four hours? i think?” His phalanges scratched at the back of his skull. “i didn’t really pay any attention to the clock when i got back. i was too preoccupied with getting you to bed and seeing that your broken limbs were wrapped up to think about the passage of time.”

 “If I slept for that long, then why do I still feel tired?” She questioned irritably. He laughed at her sour expression.

 “that’s all thanks to the medicine i gave you earlier. it does what its supposed to well, but the stuff will really leave you out of commission if you aren’t already. that’s why i save it for emergencies like yours.”

 “That stuff in the vial was medicine?” The girl pondered aloud – it hadn’t tasted like medicine. Thinking back on it, the liquid had tasted rather pleasant…

 “yeah, but it was also tea. chamomile and honey, actually. i blended the two together and made the medicine practically flavorless on the tongue so it’d be easier on the person that had to drink it. why would anybody want to swallow something that tastes bad? even adults don’t wanna do that, am i right?”

 Yet again, another allegedly kindhearted gesture that served no other viable purpose unless the purpose was kindheartedness in itself.

 Frisk frowned, studying the lumbering skeleton closely. “…Why?”

 “why what…?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression showing blatant confusion.

 “Why did you bring me here?”

 “because you needed to get those broken limbs of yours wrapped up, and this was the only place i could take you to do that safely-”

 “No, I mean… why help me at all? Aren’t you a monster?”

 He recoiled at her harshened tone and averted his gaze, smiling sheepishly at nothing in particular. “yeah… i can understand why you’d have some doubts about me. in your human fairytales and legends, monsters are the bad guys. they do horrible, unspeakable things to men, women, and children alike without remorse. …but i’m not that kind of monster. i… i want to help and protect any humans that fall into the underground that i come across. that’s why i’m here.”

 Frisk bit her bottom lip. Guilt began to bubble away in her stomach and gradually rose up to her chest, her heart giving a dull aching thump at his appearance – yes, he was still smiling, but it was incredibly strained, undeniably forced. His shoulders were slumped heavily as well. Her insensitive remark had definitely hurt him.

 “I… I’m sorry. A lot has happened, and I’m still very, very confused. About a lot of things.” She made an effort to explain, his large droopy eye sockets and enlarged white pupils appearing less and less menacing to her and increasingly more melancholy as the seconds ticked by. “But that still isn’t an excuse for treating someone badly for something that’s beyond their control; their race, what they are. Especially when they’re just trying their best to help someone that’s hurt. It’s just… I thought for sure that you were going to…”

 “no, no, i… i understand completely. i get it; why you’d react this way.” Even now, he, the offended, was speaking out in defense of her actions. “if you weren’t at least a little bit suspicious of me after what happened back there, then i’d be more concerned than i am already. but… maybe i could clear up some of that confusion, if you’d let me? i’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions right now that need some answering.”

 “I would like that very much.” She replied, having come to the quiet conclusion that if he held any interest in bringing harm to her, then he likely would have done so while she was unconscious.

 …Unless he wanted her awake whenever the robed skeleton chose to unveil and carry out his diabolical plot - for the sole purpose of the cruel thrill that came from it. After all, following her falling into the underground, she didn’t know how long that deceivingly friendly talking flower had been there either. Right next to her unconscious body. Staring at her in silence. Just waiting for her to wake up…

 Frisk decided she would at least allow the skeleton the opportunity to explain himself and answer her questions, but he still hasn’t earned her trust.

 Not yet.

 The stranger walked over towards and reached into the darkness of the lower left corner of the area and pulled out a chair, a chair that curiously seemed to have been built just right for her size, then dragged it to the center of the room and a few feet away from the bed. He eased into it carefully, perhaps out of concern for its thin legs possibly breaking underneath the weight of his heavyset build; the skeleton looked like a giant while seated in the much too tiny and undoubtedly uncomfortable wooden chair. He then folded his hands across his lap and flashed her a sheepish grin.

 He was making an honest attempt to seem relaxed, but his blatant nervous ticks; the occasional twitch perceptible at the corner of his mouth, slightly shrunken and quivering eye lights in his sockets, and him idly drumming his phalanges against his patella with a sort of skittishness that was difficult to describe wordlessly broke any charade of calmness that he may have been trying to convey.

 Just what reason would he have to be nervous in this situation? She was the one currently incapacitated, bed-ridden, and completely at the mercy of another. There was nothing she could do to him under these circumstances, even if her life depended on it.

 Frisk chose to ignore his tense state for the time being.

 “well, uh…” He twiddled the tips of his phalanges against each other, and for some reason, he was refusing to look at her in the face. “this is… kinda the part where you start asking questions…”

 “Alright… Telling me where I am right now might be a good place to start.”

 “you’re at my house. and this is the… guest bedroom.” His voice sounded oddly pained when he uttered those last few words, but he quickly continued onward before his discomfort became too apparent. “if you want me to be more specific, you’re in the ruins. not all that far from where you fell down. this part of the underground isn’t that spacious, at least, not compared to the rest.”

 From that snippet of conversation alone, Frisk was already made aware that the cavern stretched on much further than she initially thought, and that there was something more to this room than he was telling her. Those were details she could ponder later. Back to pressing the skeleton for more information.

 “You’re a monster, right? So is the rest of this cavern filled with monsters too? Are they all skeletons like you?”

 He actually laughed. It was a low, breathy chuckle. “in order: yes, for the third time, i am a monster. yes, there are other monsters besides me living down here. and no, the whole cavern isn’t occupied entirely by skeletons. there’s slime monsters, fire elemental monsters, spider monsters... and some that can’t even be classified. the word ‘monster’ is more like an umbrella term, i think - there’s a whole lot of variety in our race.”

 “Okay… Next line of business. Who are you? What’s your name? Or do you even have one?”

 He chuckled again, his shoulders bouncing up and down just slightly. “no, i have a name. it’s sans. sans the skeleton. but you probably already knew that last part. …why did you wanna know?”

 Rather than answer his own question, she responded with, “So, your name isn’t ‘smiley trashbag’?”

 “no. it’s not now, and it never was.” His tone flattened, as well as the usually ever-present grin on his face.

 “Well, I thought I might as well ask...” Frisk mumbled. “Flowey the flower isn’t a really creative name, either... I wondered if the only other living being I’ve come across since I fell down here was a victim of unfortunate naming too.”

 “no, that was just him being awful. as per usual.” Sans crossed his arms with a sigh and a soft scowl adorning his features. “nothing too out of the ordinary there...”

 ...Nothing out of the ordinary?

 “Another question; would you mind telling me what was up with that flower monster in the first place?”

 “tibia honest with ya... i don’t really know all that much about him myself.” He scratched the back of his skull with another self-conscious grin when she showed no visible reaction to his pun. “right, right... probably not the best time for jokes. anyway, that flower, he isn’t a monster; that’s as much as i know about him. he just... showed up one day in the ruins. he started bullying monsters, making threats, eating all the candy out of the candy bowl... and generally just making a complete nuisance of himself every time he showed up.”

 “He seemed like much more than a nuisance when it was me he was around...” Frisk recalled, the torturous sensation of being slung against the floor and wall of the cave in rapid succession still fresh in her mind and limbs, despite the numbing medicine she had been given – she suspected it was beginning to wear off now, but she couldn’t let her boney caretaker become conscious of this.

 If he knew she was in pain, he might send her to sleep again. And Frisk felt she couldn’t rest until all her present questions have been answered.

 “he didn’t stay just an annoying weed for long. after a while of being content with tormenting others, one day, he started trying to kill monsters. i was on my way back from checking for any fallen humans, like i do every day, when i caught him cornering a whimsun. whimsuns, they’re small, winged, fairy-like monsters. incredibly shy, and they never bother anybody because they’re afraid of being engaged in conflict. so even without knowing what kind of person he was already, i would have known right there that the attack was entirely unprovoked. that was... quite a while ago, when that happened, and i thought what i said to him then was enough to scare him out of the ruins for good.”

 If even a fraction of the anger in Sans’s voice had been present at that time compared to when he came to rescue her earlier, then Frisk wasn’t certain how Flowey hadn’t spontaneously wilted right then and there during either confrontation. He was either incredibly determined, or incredibly stupid to have come back again after that warning.

 “...but i couldn’t have been more wrong.” Sans appeared shamefaced, silently acknowledging that it was only by mere coincidence and sheer luck that he’d arrived in time to save her at all. “i guess he was just hiding this whole time, and biding his own time, waiting for when a human finally showed up...”

 “...Are humans supposed to be the enemies of monsters here, like you’re supposed to be for us on the surface?” She inquired a touch fearfully, still unsure of what intentions this skeleton may hold for her. “In this world, in the Underground, is it really kill or be killed?”

 “no. no, no, no, no... no.” He spoke quickly, his hands fluttering about anxiously, but the firm tone he spoke with didn’t match his frantic movements. “don’t let that insignificant weed be put in the position of the mouthpiece for the rest of the underground. what he wants is senseless violence, to see the world around him burn. i’d like you to forget as much as you can about him and anything he may have said to you, if at all possible.”

 “Being nearly mauled to death by a talking flower that first was pretending to help you is kind of a hard thing to push out of your memory entirely.”

 “i know... and i’m sorry. i should’ve got there sooner. then maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as it is now.” He stood up and was suddenly at her side in one fluid motion; he gently rested one hand on her broken and bandaged leg, the contact and sudden unexpected pressure against her injuries causing her entire body to flinch.

 He immediately removed his hand – at first, Sans thought that she just didn’t want him touching her, but the way her eyes clenched shut and her lips twisted into a grimace made him think differently.

 “...did-did that hurt? are you in pain right now?” When she wouldn’t answer, he gave her leg another experimental brush, the tips of his phalanges featherlight against her wounds as if to soothe them.

 As cautious as he was with his ministrations, even the slightest of touches was enough to make her cringe.

 “...and so i see the medicine i gave you has worn off.” He gazed at her sternly, his tone scolding. “and just how long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

 “For as long as I could.” She answered without any hesitation or shame.

 At hearing her bold and defiant response, he frowned in that way that managed to somehow tug at her heartstrings for the second instance without fail.

 “you still don’t trust me, do you...?”

 “No.” She didn’t know why admitting this to his face hurt as much as it did. “I don’t.”

 To her surprise, he didn’t appear frustrated or angry. He breathed a heavy sigh, though, and smiled wearily at her.

 “i guess i’ll just have to earn it, then. prove my word’s worth. gradually.”

 “G-Gradually?” That last word brought to her a sudden and harsh realization, a question that must be asked, and she did so with a sense of urgency. “How... how long will it be until my limbs have healed?”

 “even with my magic helping the healing process along, it’s gonna be a while until you’re back on your feet. the damage you sustained from your fall into the underground must have been bad enough, but that awful weed did a real number on ya. if i were to estimate, i’d say it’ll probably be anywhere from two months at the least to three and a half at the most until you’ve made a complete recovery.”

 “Three... and a half months...” She repeated brokenly, the full extent of his diagnosis not having sunk in quite just yet.

 She didn’t even notice his mentioning of the term ‘magic’, she was so distressed.

 “so that’ll give us plenty of time to get to know one another.” He chuckled mirthfully, before his grin turned tight. “...surely you won’t still hate me three months from now, will you...?”

 “I don’t hate you! I’m just... scared. And I’m still so confused...”

 “over what...?”

 “Several more things. Too many to count, and too many issues to cover in a single conversation, probably.”

 “no, that wasn’t what i... i already knew that much; it’s obvious you would still have plenty of questions left in need of answering, but that will have to wait until later. what i was referring to was what you said before that... what is it that you’re scared of?”

 “...I can’t really explain it.”

 That was all Frisk could reply with after a lengthy pause.

 “...is it me? if it is, it’s... alright. i understand. completely.”

 “I didn’t say that.” She insisted halfheartedly.

 “you didn’t have to.”

 It was written all over her face, expressed in her movements, heard within the inflections of her voice...

 He walked towards the door, not even turning around as he said,

 “...wait right here. i have to get your medicine.”

 “As if I could go anywhere else...” She frowned to herself, but acknowledged that his words had sounded incredibly strained, as though he thought if the girl did have the choice available to her, she would have bolted for the nearest exit as soon as his back was turned.

 Frisk couldn’t deny that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, of escaping this house, if only her broken body would allow her to do so. But so far, it appeared Sans the skeleton had done everything within his power to help her and absolutely nothing to warrant her distrust.

 But then again, the same could be said of Flowey, who had appeared amiable and offered what was supposed to have been some kindhearted assistance to a helpless and wounded surface dweller, only to purposefully injure her further.

 It was true that every indication had been made that the two couldn’t stand one another, but that didn’t have to mean that Sans was her friend; no matter how the saying went about what the enemy of your enemy was to you. He could hold the very same animosity towards humans that Flowey fostered, and Frisk felt it was safest to keep her guard up, search for any signs of existing hostility, detect even the slightest traces of deceit that could be hiding behind that seemingly friendly smile...

 Sans, however, was inwardly distraught.

 He was thankful that an opportunity had presented itself for him to excuse himself from the presence of the human girl in his company. He couldn’t withstand it a second longer, being subjected to her harsh judging gaze.

 This wasn’t his first time caring for a human, particularly a stubborn one. Some of them had accepted his help and embraced him with open arms, overjoyed to find a friendly face. Others needed some coaxing, some convincing that he wasn’t going to hurt them, and it wasn’t long at all until they believed his claims and found them to be true.

 But they had all been children.

 This was an adult human, a woman with perpetual scorn in her gaze despite his best efforts. And he didn’t know how to handle that.

 “none of them ever hated me before...”

 He returned a few minutes later, carefully carrying a tea cup in hand with wisps of steam wafting from its rim. It was made of creamy white porcelain, which was crafted into the shape of an oversimplified skull. Even the artistry of the handle abided to the skeleton theme present, looking as though it were made from a trio of assembled milky colored bones.

 Frisk sat up in the bed, wincing as she did so. Yes, the medicine she ingested yesterday had most definitely worn off, but she was also delighted to discover that her limbs had in fact unexpectedly, almost unbelievably regained some of their former mobility.

 Even so, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking more, though it would numb the pain burdening her and Sans had mentioned that it didn’t taste bitter when mixed in with the tea. The flavor wasn’t her concern, however. Waking up after swallowing whatever was in that concoction had left her feeling as though she had been hit by a truck. Her entire body had felt heavy as lead, as if some unseen pressure were weighing her down.

 Somehow sensing Frisk’s apprehension and correctly deducing the cause, he spoke,

 “this isn’t the same medicine as before. it’ll make you sleepy in a little while and you’ll probably need a nap after, but it won’t knock you out for hours.”

 That was... somewhat reassuring, she thought.

 If he was telling the truth, that is.

 Instead of handing her the cup or forcing it into her hands, Sans set it on the nightstand Frisk had just noticed was there, most likely because she couldn’t move her head towards that angle earlier. The cup would be out of sight should she lay down again, just like the piece of furniture it rested atop, but it would still easily be within her reach should her hands search for it.

 “...do you want to eat now or later?”

 “later.” She answered, both out of wariness and a genuine lack of appetite.

 “ok.”

 Several moments passed with not another word from either of them. Sans was still there, he hadn’t made a single move that suggested he was going to leave, but he wasn’t looking at her like he was earlier, or even at all.

 He wouldn’t look at her.

 Frisk eventually decided to break the silence herself.

 “Don’t you want me to drink it?”

 “yes, i do. but i’m not going to force you.”

 “That didn’t stop you before.”

 “that was an emergency.” He was swift in delivering his rebuttal. “whether you were aware of it or not, you were dying back there. i had to get you somewhere else quick so i could take care of you, and i couldn’t let you suffer for no reason the entire way when there was a safe and ready alternative available. so i’m sorry i fed you something strange to knock you unconscious and brought you here against your will, but if i had to do it over again, i’d still make the same choice. over and over again, without hesitation.”

 He was speaking to her in a serious, stern, nearly scolding tone, but something about the manner in which he spoke managed to prick at her heartstrings, almost as effectively as when the skeleton had expressed his vulnerability earlier. Even while cross, there was a caring, almost loving impression discernible underneath.

 Slowly, and with some amount of delay, Frisk took the tea cup off the night stand and brought the warm liquid to her lips, sipping it quietly.

 Just as Sans had said earlier, the tea disguised the taste of the medicine. In fact, she couldn’t detect it at all on her taste buds.

 “...It’s good.” Frisk muttered at last.

 “i’m glad.” Her drinking the tea made the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, but the expression soon vanished as quickly as it had come. “...i get that you aren’t too keen on the idea of putting any of your trust in me, what with flowey abusing it and all... but i really do want to help you. and i can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

 “...Sans, can you come closer?”

 He complied, albeit confusedly, blatant bewilderment written across his features as he made his approach. Frisk didn’t say anything else until the skeleton was positioned exactly where she wanted him to be, continuing to motion him forward until he was standing directly in front of her bedside.

 “Now what I need you to do is look me in the eyes - not at the floor, the wall, your hands, or anything else you’ve been staring at that isn’t me.”

 “a-alright...” He stuttered unsurely, wondering why she had become so commanding so suddenly and what it was she was going to ask of him next. “i’m looking at you. just you and only you.”

 “One last thing, Sans. ...I need you to tell me, no, promise me that you’re not planning to do anything sinister or rotten to me like Flowey was. I need you to give me your word right here and now. And depending on how you do that, how you respond to this demand of mine, you just might earn my trust.”

 He frowned down at her, and she could tell that he wasn’t exactly happy with being compared to and lumped in with the likes of Flowey, who so far seemed to be more or less his arch nemesis.

 However, Sans maintained eye contact with her, as she had requested, and took a breath,

 “i don’t have anything awful in store for you – all i want is to see that you get better and are well taken care of, regardless of the fact that we’re of different races that are usually perceived to be deeply prejudiced against one another and are all but demanded rather than advised to remain bitter enemies. that’s it. honest. i swear on my SOUL, if that means anything to you.”

 He had hesitated just a moment before answering, just like when Frisk had asked him to make a promise before - something that shouldn’t have boded well for him with her currently playing the role of his judge.

 But the sincerity she found in his voice, the sheer conviction with which he stated his intentions, the sparks of gentle warmth she saw within the lights of his sockets... that was enough to sway her thoughts and opinions on this monster.

 They gazed into each other’s eyes for the longest of times, neither having moved a muscle or a joint since his declaration. Sans was obviously anxious; beads of sweat decorated his skull, and the grin he wore was incredibly forced in a feeble attempt to mask his dread and unease.

 Finally, Frisk was prepared to announce the results of her assessment.

 “...You pass.”

 “...what?” He inquired, breathlessly.

 “You pass.” She repeated plainly. “I’ve decided that I’m going to trust you. You’ve managed to convince me. From this point onward, I’ll go along with your suggestions and your efforts in helping me to heal.”

 Although, to him, she sounded mostly unimpressed with his heartfelt response... But Sans wasn’t so skeptical that he was about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 He exhaled, patent relief blossoming over his skull. “thank you... i... i promise i won’t do anything to have this honor that was bestowed on me revoked.”

 “But if you do, you’re gonna be wishing that Flowey had succeeded in killing me.” She retorted, half-jokingly and halfway serious.

 “never.” Came his swift reply in that chiding yet close to loving tone.

 Whether Sans meant that he was never going to betray her trust now that he had it or that he wasn’t even going to entertain the notion of the alternate outcome where Flowey killed her, she wasn’t sure.

 But what she was made aware of was, Sans had a nice smile. This one was genuine; unlike the others he had previously displayed with tight grins that didn’t reach his eye sockets. It was sincere, welcoming. Perhaps even sweet.

 And seeing him like this, it made the corners of her own mouth curve upwards.

 Frisk took the tea from where it rested on the nightstand again, intending to drink every drop of it. Her grip wasn’t steady however, and she nearly spilled the entirety of its contents on herself and the bedsheets. Seeing her struggle, Sans kneeled by the bed and curled his phalanges around the cup and consequently her own hands, his large palms engulfing them. He gently eased the tea cup towards her lips.

 She felt heat surrounding the skin of her hands like a warm, comforting blanket, and Frisk believed it wasn’t emanating solely from the beverage she held. How could a skeleton, a being without blood, feel warm?

 The texture of his bones wasn’t how she thought it would be either; they felt smooth to the touch, as expected, but weren’t entirely rigid. There was some suppleness to them. How could a skeleton be soft?

 But he was. Sans was warm and soft; something Frisk likely never would have learned, paid attention to, or cared for at all if she still harbored the same mistrust towards him as she had earlier.

 His low hesitant voice next to her ear caught her notice. “is this okay...? i’m not making you uncomfortable?”

 “No, not at all.” She answered with a chuckle, internally somewhat taken aback by her own reply and the instantaneousness of it.

 He was only assisting her with holding the cup so it didn’t spill, Frisk tried to reason with herself, but still she continued her mental debate with herself; wasn’t what they were doing now a bit too much of a jump compared to before, a bit too cuddly, considering this was the same skeleton monster who she had only began to place some amount of her trust in no more than five minutes ago?

 Even if this was so, she found herself enjoying this unexpected warmth, this sweet and sincere gesture. So much so, Frisk could practically feel the lingering disbelief that remained slowly melting away around her like snow that desperately clung to one’s clothes while in front of a crackling fireplace.

 Sans kept his hands wrapped around hers until the cup was completely empty. He then plucked it from her grasp and set it back on the nightstand before turning around again to face her.

 “you’ve got about an hour, give or take, until the medicine kicks in. that should be enough time to eat something if you’re hungry, unless you really do have no appetite.” When she nodded at the end of his statement, he frowned at her in that distraught way that inexplicably pulled at her heartstrings. “but it’s been a day, a whole twenty-four hours since I found you. even if you ate a big meal directly before falling down here, that’s still a long time to go without putting any food in your body.”

 “You’re awfully insistent about getting me to eat something.” She stated, raising an eyebrow just slightly then continued in a clearly joking manner, “...You’re aren’t trying to fatten me up, are you, Sans?”

 He threw back his head and laughed, barely stifling a snort as he replied, “noooo, i’m just worried about your health is all.” Sans took her response as a sign to proceed, moving towards the door and preparing to go to the kitchen to make something; something that wouldn’t consume too much time and would be light enough on her stomach that it shouldn’t upset her if she truly didn’t have much of an appetite. But not before poking his head back into the room immediately after he left it to cheekily add, “...even if you are cute enough to eat.”

 It was just him teasing her in the same manner as she had seconds prior, she told herself, but still Frisk blushed at the boldness of his words that one could misread as being flirtatious in nature. ...Surely it wasn’t. Just some silly banter between new pals; that’s what it was, right?

 She shook this thought away, as one she deemed more important entered her mind. She narrowly suppressed the excitement in her voice as she called out to him,

 “Sans!”

 Almost instantly, she heard the approaching sound of his slipper-clad feet thundering against the floor of the hallway outside. The door then swung open and there he stood, demanding to know what was wrong with worry gracing his skull.

 It vanished at once after her next sentence, his concerned expression being replaced with one of immeasurable joy.

 “My name isn’t ‘you’, Sans. It’s Frisk.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Whatever remained of Frisk’s suspicions towards Sans, they completely dissipated by her fourth day under his care.

 Even throughout the first day, after the robed skeleton returned to her room with a steaming hot bowl of stew in hand and insistences that he feed her so as not to further aggravate the injuries of her arms, Frisk found it exceedingly difficult to continue regarding him with doubt.

 He was astonishingly, profoundly considerate, she concluded.

 Having to be fed by him was embarrassing, even if he had stated that there was no reason for her to feel this way when she voiced her sentiments aloud. He was more than happy to do so since she couldn’t. Perhaps he was simply the type that enjoyed caring for and doting on others, Frisk mused.

 Whenever she wasn’t asleep, Sans was almost constantly at her bedside; at her every beck and call. The girl couldn’t recall having ever received such attentiveness before in her entire life, not even from her mother and father. It made her feel a twinge of guilt to place this monster, who was more or less a stranger to her though an incredibly kindhearted one on a higher pedestal than her own parents, but Frisk couldn’t deny that during their so far brief period of knowing one another, Sans has possibly shown more consideration towards her than anyone aboveground ever had.

 Something else that Frisk had learned during her stay is that, when Sans claimed he would provide answers to all her inquiries, he had really meant it.

 Every single question that fell from her lips, no matter how abrupt or bizarre it may have been, the skeleton would never fail to supply her with an answer or an explanation. He never seemed to tire of responding to her endless plethora of questions, strangely; in fact, Sans appeared to find some amount of delight in her never-ending curiosity. Frisk had always been someone who possessed a boundless thirst for knowledge, eternally seeking clarifications in subjects others cared little for, and taking intrigue in forming and uncovering solutions to mysteries that most preferred to remain unknown.

 “Hey, Sans? Why is it that you’re a skeleton, but you’re able to eat? I didn’t think skeletons would need to, or even could eat. Shouldn’t it pass directly through you? Where does it all go?” She had asked one evening when Sans had decided to join her for supper, even after Frisk’s hands had healed enough that him assisting her was no longer necessary – ‘so she wouldn’t be alone’, he had stated somewhat shyly.

 “magic.” Came his simple reply, accompanied by a grin and a wink.

 “Well fine! All right, then! Keep your secrets...”

 “no, i was being entirely literal. magic really is how and why i eat.” He chuckled at what must have been her disbelieving stare. “the bodies of monsters are made of magic, condensed into a solid form. the food down here is made from our concentrated magic, so anything we eat is absorbed directly by our bodies, and the same goes for any humans that consume monster food. ...that’s why the majority of us down here don’t have toilets.”

 “...That explains so much.” So that’s why she hadn’t felt the need to use the restroom since her untimely arrival here... And from there, Frisk’s mind then drifted to the thought of whether skeletons could also gain weight if they could eat. “And yet, I feel this also opens up an entirely new area of discussion that demands to be explored.”

 “i’ll tell you just about anything you want to know about monsters and the underground, but... from where this conversation seems to be headed, is this really a topic that you wanna discuss over dinner?”

 “What? No, noooo - that wasn’t what I was thinking of talking about at all. You were the one that brought up toilets in the first place, so who’s the gross one here?” She laughed freely, the sound causing shivers of delight to run down his spine.

 “if that wasn’t it, then what were you wanting to talk about?”

 “About you.” Frisk answered with just a hint of bashful hesitance, resulting in his SOUL skipping a beat.

 “what... what about me...?” Sans nearly croaked as he pointed to himself, his throat suddenly going dry.

 “Anything and everything you’re willing to share.” She confessed, not quite looking him in the eye socket. “I think you’re really interesting Sans, and I... I want to know more about you. I feel like I could spend years questioning you, all day every day, and I would still never get bored of what you have to say.”

 He must have gaped at her for a good solid minute at the very least, concerning her slightly and making her wonder if she had said something alarming or offensive.

 But then a beautiful grin graced his skull and he shakily replied,

 “ha... ahaha...... hoo boy.” He rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle, unable to look at her while aware that his zygomas were flushed and glowing a bright, near blinding blue. “i... i can’t say anyone’s ever said anything like that to me before... uh, you... you said you’ve still got questions, wasn’t that right, frisk? keep ‘em rollin’.”

 Sans was different – he entertained her inquisitiveness, encouraged it. She would even go so far as to say he almost appeared flattered by it instead of finding her and her various interests annoying.

 Frisk wondered if he was lonely.

 That was the only conceivable reason why he would tolerate her oddities as much as he had, she thought.

 After Frisk decided that he had earned her trust and that she enjoyed his company, she began to notice the little things about him. How, even when he was smiling brightly, there was something sad about those pale white spheres of light within his sockets. Beneath them were dark circles present, like how humans would develop dark circles under their eyes due to stress or loss of sleep.

 She had commented at least once that he appeared to be exhausted, not directly mentioning the easily visible marks beneath his sockets, but Sans had brushed her off with a smile. He assured her that he slept plenty, perhaps too much, the skeleton added with a quiet chuckle. Still, it concerned her – the thought of him taking an uncaring approach to his own health when he had put so much effort into bettering hers was a saddening one.

 But the longer she stayed in his company, the lighter the markings underneath his sockets became.

 It didn’t make much sense to her – if anything, Frisk would have thought that tending to the needs of another as exceedingly as he had for her the past few weeks would have only exhausted him further. Instead, every morning when he came to her room to greet her, Sans seemed just a little bit more perky than the previous day.

 Did he really enjoy her presence that much?

 As the days passed on, one after the other, the more sure she became that this was the truth.

 Another peculiar habit of his was how shy he seemed to be around her. Frisk wasn’t certain if he acted this way around everyone or if she was some sort of exception, since the only person she had seen him interact with so far other than herself was Flowey and as far as she was concerned that nasty little buttercup had no relevance in this private mental discourse of hers - but one day she became confident enough to ask him.

 Apparently, the answer was a little of both.

 Ever since he was small, Sans has felt somewhat uncomfortable conversing and spending an extended period of time with those he wasn’t familiar with. However, he then stated that Frisk was a special case to him and further affected his shyness. So much so, Sans admitted to the girl that he felt as though he had been dangerously close to fainting himself when speaking to her for the first time; the sole reason why he hadn’t was there had been the more important and pressing task of tending to her injuries to focus on at the moment.

  When she questioned him as to why he would feel that way towards her, this was what he had to say,

 “you... you’re really pretty.” He professed, a blue blush beginning to creep over his cheeks. “i’ve never met anyone as pretty before, and when i first saw you, that actually scared me just a little. i... i got nervous.”

 Sans couldn’t be as shy as he claimed to be if he was willing to admit that to her face, even if he couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look at it as he said that.

 But as their time together gradually increased, his timidity gradually began to wane.

 He would still mumble and stutter when he spoke to her, but his actions and words became undeniably more bold.

 It had all began one late evening while Sans was at her bedside, sitting in that same wooden chair that was much too little for his build as he responded to her vast quantities of questions, as per usual. The tiny chair could support his weight no longer; the legs collapsed underneath him with an oddly thunderous crackling, dumping the skeleton out onto the floor on his back.

 Frisk knew she shouldn’t have, but she laughed.

 She hadn’t meant to, but it was beyond her impulse control! To begin with, the small uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp that he let out when he was sent tumbling backwards was nothing short of hysterical, but the expression on his face as it happened was something that deserved not to be ignored. His eye sockets had gone impossibly wide and the spheres inside them had shrunken down to tiny pinpricks. But after he crashed against the floor, his eyelights had enlarged to the point they looked like twin moons.

 The entire scene was too humorous, or humerus as Sans would call it, to keep her face straight and her mouth shut.

 But when Sans didn’t move after longer than a few seconds had passed of him silently staring up at the ceiling just blinking his sockets, that was when the giggles died down and concern began to take over.

 Frisk’s body moved on its own accord, rolling out of bed and landing on her feet before limping over to him.

 “Sans? Sans! Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?!” She took his face in her hands, practically yelling directly in it. The sheer panic in her voice made him snap out of whatever trance he was in.

 “i... i’m fine. i think.” His eyelights still looked a bit wonky to her; they had returned to their normal size, but the white orbs were facing different directions and they were spinning round and around...

 He sat up a bit straighter, willing the spheres in his eyes to go back to normal. Only then did she begin to relax, releasing her frightened grip on his skull and arms returning to her sides.

 “everything’s fine, frisk; it’ll take just a little more than that to do anything serious to these old bones.”

 “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that so I won’t worry, are you?”

 “‘m sure.”

 She still wasn’t totally convinced he was telling the truth, but she would let him off the hook for now – if he really was hurt, it would be made apparent to her soon enough.

 “I’m so sorry that I laughed...” She apologized as she lowered her gaze, deeply ashamed.

 “don’t be.” One phalange found its way under her chin, gently lifting her head up. “it was kind of funny, wasn’t it?”

 “If it had been me that fell instead, you wouldn’t have been laughing.” Frisk stated bluntly, knowing that what she said was true.

 “frisk, i wasn’t hurt, so it’s fine.” He replied with a tone of finality, then smiled at her. “but it’s nice to know that you chair about me so much.”

 Once she had processed the pun, Frisk’s eyes automatically narrowed and her nose wrinkled in mock disgust. He laughed at her petulant expression, and the sound was enough for the disgruntled look on her face to slip just slightly. It vanished entirely when the phalange that had been under her chin shifted, the hand it belonged to reaching up to cup her cheek.

 Sans’s own expression had softened as well; a warm smile elevating the corners of his mouth coupled with a tender gaze meant solely for her. His other hand rose to brush the stray and uneven strands of hair away from the girl’s eyes as his thumb traced smooth circles against the skin of her cheek.

 Anything she had to say to him prior had died on her lips.

 His actions had rendered her entirely speechless.

 Sans spent the next few minutes gently running his boney fingers through her hair and stroking her face, appreciating the different types of softness from both. His eye sockets were lidded from sheer bliss, he was enjoying this moment that much.

 However, he returned to his senses not too long afterward, his sockets snapping open with a gasp of sudden realization. He immediately removed his hands and scrambled backwards, nearly on all fours, until his back hit the wall.

 Frisk stared at him with even more confusion evident than when he had been affectionately pawing at her.

 “i... i can explain, i...” Sans stuttered, hands fluttering about as if on the defensive and anticipating her to attack him for his behavior. “no, no i can’t explain anything this time... not at all. oh stars, frisk, i... i’m so sorry. i don’t know what came over me.”

 “No, no... It’s... it’s alright! I’m not mad at you, Sans, so there’s no reason at all for you to act like I am.” She shuffled towards him once more, but only made it a few steps across the room before her legs gave out on her – they were still far too weak due to a combination of several consecutive weeks of bedrest and the injuries she sustained when she first fell into the Underground and encountered Flowey.

 Sans pushed his previous thought process to the side and moved to assist her. He was at her side in an instant, hoisting Frisk into his arms before she could begin to question him of his objective. He carried her back to the bed, placing her gently underneath the covers then pulling the sheets up to her chest, all the while struggling to aim an admonishing look at his patient.

 He was immensely flattered by how quickly she had rose to her feet, for the first time in weeks, just to make certain that he hadn’t injured himself despite the pain she must have felt in doing so. However, as much as this gesture of hers touched the very depths of his SOUL, he also wished that she hadn’t left the bed in the first place. She was still recuperating, and if he hadn’t carelessly broken the chair he had been sitting on, then Frisk wouldn’t have had a reason to exert herself.

 Sans had no one to blame but himself for this... and perhaps Flowey. He too was responsible, in a roundabout sort of way, but Sans knew he couldn’t pin every single thing that went wrong during the process of Frisk’s recovery on him, as tempting as the thought was. That was just escaping responsibility.

 “What’s with the sour face, Mr. Grumpybones?” She took notice of his bitter expression and was swift in pointing it out.

 “i would think the answer to that question is obvious – you got out of bed when i specifically told you just this morning not to.”

 “But what was I supposed to do then? Just... lay here and watch you have a staring contest with the ceiling when it was totally possible and reasonable for me to think that you might have split the back of your skull open because you didn’t pop right back up after that fall you took?”

 “i was in a minor case of shock from the impact.” Sans struggled to remain firm with her. “i would have gotten up, eventually.”

 “Well, even if what you’re saying is true...,” He momentarily scowled at her, but not for long until it too evaporated. “...Eventually just wasn’t good enough for me.”

 His mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, but eventually, he just smiled down at her with all the warmth and quiet intensity that had been present before. Again, he carded his phalanges through her bangs, then said quietly, almost inaudibly,

 “get some rest, pumpkin.”

 He was trying to escape the conversation, Frisk surmised, but her thoughts were cut short when she felt a soft pressure against her forehead. Sans quickly turned off the lamp and shuffled out of the room as if embarrassed, almost ashamed. What reason would he have to be embarrassed? Frisk was fairly certain the lingering sensation she felt on her forehead was from a kiss.

 How that could even possible she wasn’t entirely certain, but Frisk had previously witnessed him drinking from a straw on some occasions during their mealtimes together, so perhaps him being capable of kissing wasn’t too much of a stretch. At any rate, Sans had fled the scene before she had the chance to question him about it, and perhaps that was exactly the point.

 However, Sans didn’t remain bashful concerning his gestures of affection. The next morning, he greeted Frisk with another hesitant kiss to the cheek, just like the night before, but instead of apologizing and stumbling over his words, his bright eyelights studied her closely, gauging her reaction for any signs of discomfort or disgust. Finding none, he grinned widely, and from there, the adoration he felt and actively expressed towards her only increased.

 He gave her kisses sparingly, and gave plenty of warning beforehand from that point onward, just in case... She allowed him at each occasion, even turning her cheek towards him and tapping it with her index finger feigning impatience sometimes when it seemed to her he wanted to press his mouth against her skin, but refrained from it for whatever reason; perhaps it was that timidity of his creeping back every so often to remind him of its existence and to make itself known.

 During one instance when he leaned down to give her a peck on the forehead, he hesitated, much longer than usual and too long in her opinion. So to remedy the situation, Frisk leaned upwards slightly... and placed a peck of her own on the tip of his nasal ridge. He leapt backwards as if she had slung cold water on him instead, and yes, during her stay here, Frisk had learned that magical skeleton monsters could be affected by changes in temperatures and experience sensations similar to a human’s nerve endings. His spine was pressed up against the closed door – she wasn’t entirely certain how he had managed to scurry that distance, and in reverse so quickly; Frisk was halfway convinced that he had somehow teleported.

 He blinked owlishly at her for several extended, drawn out seconds, then broke out into a wide grin and laughed.

 Afterward, Sans gave her a kiss at the beginning and conclusion of each day they spent in one another’s company.

 It wasn’t long after until Frisk found the strength to walk again, on the condition that she was under constant supervision as a precaution in case her legs collapsed underneath her again. The first few days, Sans held her hand in a strong but gentle grip, leading the girl around his home wherever it was she wanted to go. He would chide her on pushing her limits, but he could only surmise how liberating it must have felt to be able to move around again and stretch her legs after so long of being confined to a single room, and unable to even leave bed at that.

 Her first time leaving the bedroom was almost exciting, to finally see what lied beyond the walls of that child-sized, enclosed room. The hallway outside seemed so wide, and seemed to stretch further than it really did. Aside from the door to Frisk’s room, there were two others visible – one led to Sans’s bedroom, and the other was a mystery. When Sans caught her staring at it and the sign dangling from the doorframe, which politely deterred any would-be trespassers from entering, he led her away and guided her attentions towards the living area. She was still curious about it, but pushed any thoughts pertaining to the prohibited door to the side to ponder later.

 Sans’s house was a bit on the small side and simple in design, but also cozy and comforting; the very epitome of a cottage dwelling. The living room was her favorite place to be – often she and Sans would sit and make themselves comfy in that giant armchair of his and read by the fireplace together. There was no danger of this one breaking under their combined weight, he insisted, but Frisk was still cautious about sitting on the arm of the chair, no matter how well-built and sturdy it looked.

 When she voiced this concern aloud, he then offered her a place by his side. If she took him up on this suggestion, then she would practically be sitting in his lap. Perhaps not, and while Frisk would admit that she was growing more and more fond of him with each passing day in a certain sense, going so far as allowing him to kiss her face and finding herself often returning the gesture, the girl still couldn’t quite say she was comfortable to that extent with cozying up to Sans.

 And yet, Frisk found herself inching closer and closer to him anyway, unconsciously moving more towards his immediate vicinity each time they sat together in that armchair suitable for a king. Not to the degree that she was ever settled in his lap, but she had definitely brushed shoulders with him, even leaned against him a time or two. He welcomed the dwindling proximity between them, occasionally wrapping an arm around her own shoulders if she was enough within his reach to do so.

 How this routine of theirs even began was when Frisk had spotted a bookshelf next to the armchair, each row filled with titles unfamiliar to her. They were all authored by the monsters inhabiting the Underground, he informed her, and she then wanted to view their contents for herself. She was astounded to find that the words on the pages inside were written in her language and not one unfamiliar to her, but Sans spoke English as well, so it really shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did.

 Some of them were children’s books and fairytales, stories that Sans had owned since he was small – they were in excellent condition for their estimated age, which briefly made her wonder how old Sans actually was. Others were of the nonfictional variety, like biographies containing tales and accounts of humans and monsters having once lived in harmony many, many years ago. She learned this period of peace between the races came to an abrupt end when humanity waged war against the monsters; the humans emerged victorious, rounded up the monster population, and sealed them away in a deep cavern under Mount Ebott behind a magical barrier.

 If it weren’t for the fact that Frisk was brutally assaulted by a talking flower and was currently sitting next to a giant living animate skeleton, she wouldn’t have believed it.

 “...They didn’t tell us about this in history class at school on the surface.”

 “ha! i can believe that. it seems like the vast majority of humanity has forgotten that we even exist, much less ever lived alongside them. now monsters have been relegated to malignant figures in your stories that terrorize children and other innocents...”

 “I can’t even begin to imagine how insulting that must be to you.” She frowned, eying him with sympathy in her gaze. “...Are you the only monster that feels this way about humans, wanting to put what happened in the past behind you, or are the rest all like Flowey and think we’re evil?”

 He instantly looked discomforted by her question. Sans was visibly squirming in his seat, seeming more nervous than she ever could recall having seen him. He almost appeared pained, he was so unsettled.

 But before she could retract her inquiry, apologize, or attempt to comfort him, he at last answered her. “opinions are... varied, among monsterkind.”

 “......Oh.” She said quietly, taking as long with her own reply as he had.

 An uncomfortable silence followed.

 Neither of them would look at one another. Both could only writhe uncomfortably where they sat, both consumed with regret for the things that were said. The warm, domestic mood around them had been spoiled, and Frisk felt it was her fault for bringing up such a serious, not to mention grim topic in the first place.

 But now that the topic had surfaced, it made her begin to consider something, and this wasn’t the first time that this particular something had plagued her thoughts before.

 From his actions and his behavior towards her, Frisk could deduce that Sans obviously held a great deal of compassion towards humanity. He didn’t have to help her at all when he did, and neither would a human if she were being honest, but especially not him when her own kind had imprisoned his entire race. He had no obligation to assist her and would gain nothing from doing so, nothing that she could think of at any rate, and yet he had without a second thought. Not even for his own safety, as Sans had faced Flowey in order to get to her.

 Flowey’s last words of parting to the skeleton had been haunting her lately.

 “You fool… Humans will always despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”

 Was Sans an outcast among the rest of his kind because of his stance towards humans? Is that why he lived alone in this little house, and never brought home any company?

 Sans wasn’t entirely without companionship, at least this was what Frisk tried to convince herself of; he seemed to have at least one friend in the spider lady that had taught him how to sew the beautiful blue blanket with the bones stitched in the fabric that currently sat atop her bed, who he mentioned when she had once asked him where it came from. However, Sans had spoken as though that had been some time ago. Perhaps he truly didn’t have anyone else in his life aside from herself.

 Dwelling on that thought as she did suddenly made her unbearably sad, feeling as though the blame lied solely on her shoulders that such a wonderful, patient, and kind monster would spend the remainder of his life alone as long as she was here.

 So much so, that Frisk wasn’t even aware she was crying until she felt Sans begin to wipe the tears that cascaded down her cheeks with his thumb.

 “please... please don’t cry, pumpkin.” She wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was his mournful tone or the just as saddened expression on his face that was rendered slightly blurry through her tearstained vision, but she only wailed all the more, which was the exact opposite of what Sans wanted. He then reached out for her, to envelop her in his arms in a comforting embrace, the history book that he had held loosely in his hands tumbling to the floor, forgotten. “pumpkin, why are you crying...?”

 “Sans, am I... not supposed to be here...?” She sniffled, struggling to extricate herself from his gentle grasp, feeling as though she didn’t deserve it or him. “Am I the reason why you’re alone?”

 She heard him let out a quiet gasp before holding her even closer to himself, against his chest. In the small space of time prior to him speaking again, she heard something else, a pulsing, thumping sound emanating from somewhere deep within his ribcage. It was almost like a heartbeat... If she wasn’t so wrapped up in her own sorrow, Frisk might have contemplated why she would be hearing something that was so similar to a heartbeat coming from Sans when skeleton monsters shouldn’t have hearts.

 “...why would you think something like that?” He was running his phalanges through her hair, barely nuzzling the top of head as he urged her to speak. “why are you blaming yourself for that? why? tell me.”

 Frisk didn’t want to mention what Flowey had said, or what was written in the book for that matter. She wasn’t sure why he even bothered asking her, if only to hear her say it in that awful, croaky, hiccup-laden voice of hers - they both knew exactly why. She didn’t want to talk about this at all, even though the two of them having arrived at this point was entirely through her doing.

 She couldn’t think of anything to say, so the girl only let out a sob and shook her head, refusing to reply.

 He sighed, squeezing her tighter, but not so much that it would be discomforting or painful, then moved his mouth next to her ear, so he could ascertain that what he had to say would be heard.

 “frisk, i need you to calm down, pumpkin. i need you to breathe. it’s not your fault. none of this is.” When she weakly attempted to argue, he shushed her, his voice little above a whisper. “yes, it’s true you’re not supposed to be down here, according to the law of monsterkind, but it’s not because of you that i’m alone – that has nothing to do with you. i made my choice a long time ago, long before you ever fell down here. and i have no regrets about that. none at all.”

 “But... But it’s not fair!” She clutched onto his robe and bawled into his shoulder, the cloth becoming damp with her tears, but he didn’t care.

 “i know it’s not fair, it’s not fair at all, but that’s just how things are down here, pumpkin. it’s not your fault.”

 “Why does it feel like it is, though?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it; it was probably the only one she has asked him that he didn’t have an answer for.

 “i don’t know. but if i’ve said or done anything to make you feel this way, then i’m sorry. i won’t ever do it again.” The smoothness that was his cheek rubbed against her wet one as he again asked of her, his request sounding more like a plea, “just please, please stop crying... i can’t take it. it hurts too much.”

 “I... I don’t know if I can...” She choked out, and his hands shifted from their place tangled in her hair to rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back.

 “...then i’ll hold you for as long as it takes. if you’ll allow me to.”

 Frisk responded by clinging to him desperately, her fingers grabbing at his broad shoulders for grounding. Again, she heard the sound of the strange inexplicable pulsing within his chest; it was even louder than before, almost as if demanding its existence to be known. The curious thumping against his bones calmed her, and it wasn’t long after that she felt her own heartbeat slowing down, the flow of her tears beginning to slow, and with that the mysterious palpitations next to her other ear began to fade as well.

 By the time her tearful fit had reached its conclusion, Frisk was left feeling embarrassed and ashamed over that spontaneous emotional outburst. She had put Sans in an uncomfortable position, she was sure, both figuratively and literally – when he had reached out to embrace her, she had been maneuvered until she was more or less in his lap. Not quite there, but close enough that it would be undoubtedly awkward should he notice and decide to bring attention towards it.

 But when she mustered the courage to look him in the eye sockets again, she found nothing but sympathy and concern in his gaze.

 “you alright now, pumpkin?” He inquired softly with the tiniest frown.

 “Yeah, I’m all cried out. My eyes are entirely bone dry now.” She replied with a laugh that was just as dry as she claimed her eyes currently were.

 Sans quietly chuckled at the pun before his expression turned serious. “i’m so sorry, frisk. i didn’t mean to make you cry. that was all my fault – i shouldn’t have been so insensitive when there were so many other ways i could’ve gone about telling you.”

 “No, no, you’ve got it wrong, Sans. You weren’t being insensitive; I was being too sensitive and couldn’t handle what you said in a mature manner. It was entirely my fault Sans, all mine.” Before he could protest, she continued, “I guess that what you said just surprised me... I mean, I knew that things must be bad between our races, considering what happened in the past, but... hearing that so many monsters hate me already even though I’ve never met them... I suppose that just got to me is all.”

 “they don’t hate you, pumpkin. i don’t think anyone could.”

 Sans didn’t know how wrong he was, she thought.

 “the problem is that they just don’t know you. they don’t know you like i do.” He smiled tenderly at her. “i think that if the rest of the monsters here that feel the way they do about humans got to know you, if they gave you a fair chance, every single one of them would inevitably fall in love with you. ......like i did.”

 She almost gaped at him once Frisk processed what it was he had said.

 Sans had most definitely said that he loved her, and he had said it with a glowing deep blue blush coating the majority of his cheekbones area. What he had said was unquestionably sweet, but she was left wondering in what sense was he referring to when he professed his love. Surely, it must be of the platonic sort, or possibly even the familial. As implausibly tolerant as he was towards her kind, surely he, a monster, wouldn’t develop feelings for a human...

 She gathered what was left of her wits and asked him for clarification.

 “...What do you mean, ‘like you did’? What does that mean?”

 “whatever you want it to.” He replied simply, punctuating his statement with a swift peck against the crown of her head.

 Her face screwed into a look of irritation and confusion – that answered nothing at all. If anything, it only left her with more questions.

 What did she want it to mean? This wasn’t the first time that she pondered the state of their relationship, especially once Sans had began kissing her as often as he did. These thoughts only multiplied once she began anticipating his affectionate gestures and eventually returning them.

 She didn’t know what she wanted it to be; she was still confused over her exact feelings towards him, but what Frisk did know was, she liked Sans. In what way, she wasn’t completely certain – but she liked him.

 “...why don’t we talk about something else, something lighter.” He suggested, snapping Frisk out of her reverie.

 “Wait. I have one other question about this humans and monsters subject. One more.”

 “alright...” He responded cautiously, at least willing to hear her out.

 “What makes you different from them?” Noticing signs of perplexity surfacing on his skull, she elaborated, “Why do you feel the way you do about humans, showing them mercy, when the other monsters apparently don’t? Why are you different?”

 Sans appeared to hesitate before replying, but when he did, he wore a grin that was different than the other ones she had seem from him; beaming, almost proud.

 “the reason why i’m like i am is because of my older brother.” His sockets closed, seeming to reminisce. “he was obsessed with humans, despite everything he had always been told about them growing up. the rest of the underground thought that he was an oddball, but he was determined to show everyone down here that humans weren’t as bad as all the stories from the war made them out to be.”

 Frisk smiled at the fondness he clearly showed for his brother, but then a certain detail she discerned in his speech commanded her attention – Sans spoke of him in past tense.

 “...Sans? Did... Did something happen? ...To your brother?”

 His grin then turned into a grimace. “he’s... he’s no longer with us. he passed away. and i’d... really rather not talk about what happened.”

 “That’s okay! You’ve told me enough now; we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

 “...but what about you, though?” He questioned, his voice sounding strained to her for some reason. “what about your family on the surface?”

 “Oh, them...” Now it was her turn to frown. “I have a mother and a younger sister. I doubt either of them has noticed I’m gone. Or anyone I know, for that matter.”

 “that can’t be true. i refuse to believe that could ever be true. ...what kind of relationship do you have with your sister?”

 “She hates my guts.” Frisk stated none too delicately.

 “...oh.” Sans looked at her with all the consolation that he could summon, as if it was the most tragic thing he had ever heard. “i’m sorry... ...i have a younger sibling myself. another brother. we... we haven’t spoken for some time. ...he did something. something terrible. something so horrible that perhaps it’s even unforgiveable, and i haven’t been able to look at him the same way ever since. ...so i left, and moved here, into our old childhood home. the one place in the underground i know he’ll never think to look for me.”

 “So you sort of understand how it is, to feel this way about a sibling. I don’t hate my sister, but I... I really can’t say I like her either.”

 “i as well wouldn’t say i hate him, for what he did. ...i don’t think i could ever say that i hate my brother, but i’m not sure if i can ever bring myself to forgive him for what he did, much less allow him to reenter my life when i’m reasonably sure he isn’t sorry for what happened between us that caused the rift in the first place.”

 “...And it just got worse after the dispute that caused you to leave. Everyone takes the side of your younger brother over yours.”

 “you know us so well, it’s as if you were actually there to experience everything there is that exists between the two of us.”

 “Like I said, I kind of understand where you’re coming from, maybe.”

 “...but you don’t deserve to know what that’s like.” He cupped her cheek with one of his large palms, staring deeply into her eyes. “you deserve the best life has to offer, frisk. not... whatever it was that you went through on the surface. not whatever it was that caused you to come to this stars forsaken mountain, of all places.”

 “You might be the only one to think so, Sans.”

 “...then i’ll love you enough for all of them.” Sans murmured as he rested one of his large palms over hers, cradling her hand as if it were something irreplaceably precious.

 Another lengthy moment of silence passed between them, far longer but also far more peaceful than the one before. It held the sense of calmness that followed after a harsh and heavy storm, a reminder that the terror had passed and those who weathered through it were permitted to relax and put their qualms at ease.

 Sans wrapped his free arm around Frisk’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him than she had ever been, but still not quite to the extent that she was sitting in his lap. He gently urged her to rest her head against his shoulder, and she did, feeling exhausted from her crying episode earlier. He then rested his own atop hers, his eye sockets closing contentedly with a soft pleased hum.

 Before she slipped into a state of slumber, Frisk thought she heard him repeat in a hushed whisper that he loved her, as if to remind her in case this detail had somehow been forgotten.

 How could she forget? It was the first time someone had said something like that to her with so much emotion and sincerity.

 Sans did love her, she realized, more than anyone in her life ever had. Perhaps that was why she found herself accepting his kisses and tender touches so easily, and even reciprocating them. Now that she had learned what real affection was from him, Frisk was almost constantly starved for it, though she never once voiced this aloud, far to embarrassed and more than enough ashamed for thinking and feeling such things.

 Thankfully, she never had to. Sans was more than enough willing to provide her with the attention she so secretly craved, as long as his shyness didn’t interfere - and even then, that aspect of him was swiftly vanishing.

 ...So why was it that Frisk at times longed for what was found elsewhere, on the surface?

 As lovely as Sans’s house was, after a few weeks had passed of her having regained her ability to walk, the girl was beginning to get a little stir crazy. The need to move her legs and explore what lied beyond was becoming unbearable, and the walls of the tiny cottage were feeling smaller and smaller every day, to the point it was near suffocating.

 She needed fresh air. She needed to breathe.

 “and just where do you think you’re going?”

 Sans had caught her attempting to exit through the door in the hallway; not the one with the descending stairs – he was adamant about not letting her go down there. He insisted it was a basement, but he would have a reaction that was close to a panic attack whenever she would venture too close to it. Perhaps he was afraid she would stumble down them and injure herself further?

 Anyway, it wasn’t quite accurate to say he had caught her – Frisk wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was heading outside, but judging from the tone the skeleton used when he noticed her, it was clearly no different than if she had.

 “I was going outside?”

 “absolutely out of the question.” He responded swiftly and sternly.

 “But Sans! I... I’m feeling a bit cramped here!” She spoke over his objections. “I’ve tried walking back and forth from the living room to the end of the hallway to get rid of this feeling, but it’s just not working anymore!”

 “no.” He nearly growled, surprising her slightly, but there was a distinct fear in his eye sockets.

 “...Are you afraid that a monster is gonna see me, realize I’m human, and then attack me or something?” Frisk inquired, the possibility of such a thing occurring having now just dawned upon her.

 “that... that’s not the only thing i’m worried about. most of the monsters that live here would accept and adore you if they got to know you, i’m absolutely sure of this, but... it’s not really them you and i should be so concerned with here – it’s flowey.”

 “...Oh yeah. Him...” She had honestly almost forgotten about him, fortunately.

 “if he found you again, if he decided to come back here despite what happened then... i’m afraid that he might try to, ah..., ‘finish the job’ from last time...”

 “If he wanted to do that, then why hasn’t he tried to after all this time since he almost killed me? Is it because of you?”

 “i think that might be a possible explanation as to why he’s never tried ambushing this place.” He gestured to the space around them, the little cottage that he called home, “even when he’d have to know that i’m sleeping, and as much as he obviously detests me, he’s never tried to sneak inside and attack me during the night. ...i believe it might be because... he’s afraid of me.”

 After hearing the voice Sans spoke to him with and witnessing what he had done to the evil flower, Frisk could understand why he would now.

 “Well, if you’re so afraid that he’d attack me and so sure that he’s scared of you, then why not go with me?”

 “...pardon?”

 “Go. With. Me. On a walk through the Ruins.” She bounced eagerly on her heels, stretching out her hand for him to take. “Everything should be fine then, right? As long as you’re with me.”

 He was so quiet and for so long that she was afraid Sans was attempting to sort out the easiest way to deny her in his head. However, a bright blue blush eventually found its way on and covered his cheeks, and slowly, he took her hand in his.

 “...at the first sign of trouble, we’re coming back. immediately.”

 “Understood.” She happily agreed, then gave their conjoined hands a tug forward. “Come on, old man! Let’s get those feet moving!”

 “i’ve already told you before – i’m not that old.”

 “Then you should start acting your age – prove you’re not by shaking a leg and getting a move on!”

 And so walks around the Ruins became a part of their daily routine. At first Sans was insistent that they remain restricted to his front yard and the area around it, but as their days together outside increased, he gradually became more lenient and they would travel a little further than the previous day. Eventually, the pair reached the beginning of the cavern, where Frisk had fallen down some time ago.

 And there awaiting them was a sharp bone stabbed into the ground, the marrow thickly coated in a light green colored fluid.

 Though the vile flower was nowhere to be found, this spiteful act was enough for both to be made aware that he had indeed survived being stabbed in the stem by Sans. He highly doubted that Flowey would feel up to trying anything gutsy while he was here, but the arm he had wrapped around Frisk to steady her tightened protectively, in preparation should his assumption turn out to be wrong.

 Frisk’s attention eventually strayed from the spear made of bone to the bed of flowers that had broken her fall.

 “Y’know, it’s kind of funny in a really surreal way. I was almost killed by a literally living flower right at this spot, but if it weren’t for those flowers, I might not have even survived the fall down here.”

 An oddly morose look crossed Sans’s face as he stared down at the bed of buttercups, feeling his sockets moisten.

 “oh gaster... even after everything that happened back then, even while in the grave, you’re still doing everything within your power to help humankind... that’s just like something you would do...”

 When his older brother had died, crumbled away to dust right before him, Sans remembered his request, in his final breaths, that he be given a human burial. Humans buried their dead underneath the earth, and while he certainly didn’t understand it or even try to, Sans honored this, as it was the last thing he could do for him. His younger brother had staunchly protested this, demanding that his dust be scattered in front of the barrier, closest to the surface that most monsters longed to one day see and experience, but Sans fulfilled their dear departed brother’s final desire anyway, despite the anger he had outwardly expressed.

 Sans had felt just as furious at the time, but he respected Gaster enough to not argue against his dying wishes.

 And as he carried the sleeping Frisk home due to her having valiantly struggled but failed to remain awake about one third of the way back, Sans was more grateful than ever that he had heeded his older brother’s parting words of wisdom. If he hadn’t, then he was absolutely certain that he never would have met and fallen so deeply and hopelessly in love with the woman he held in his arms.

 The mere thought brought a cold chill of pure terror down his spine, but he managed to will it away by focusing on the weight and warmth present of the adorable human he held so closely to his SOUL in the most literal and figurative definition imaginable.

 She was here. She was safe.

 Here and safe, with him.

 And she always would be, if he had any say in it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 “i beg your pardon?!”

 Sans had all but yelped that one fateful morning at breakfast, having spat out his tea all over the tablecloth in his shock. Frisk didn’t think that what she had to say would have surprised him as much as it did, but he had immediately proven her wrong.

 “Sans, are you alright?!” She rose up from her chair, scampered over to his side, and began rapidly patting his back even though she wasn’t certain if choking worked the same for skeleton monsters as it did for humans.

 “yes... i’m fine...” His voice still sounded hoarse from all his sputtering. “you just... surprised me. that’s all.”

 It had been well over four months since she had found herself in his care. Her injuries had healed entirely, and as much as she enjoyed Sans’s companionship, Frisk understood that she was overstaying her welcome and it was time for her to leave. He spent basically every single waking moment by her side, only going outside when they took their walks through the Ruins – this was not the sort of life that he should live. She couldn’t keep imposing on him like this, no matter how much he insisted that she wasn’t. He was just too kind for his own good.

 Telling him of her plans to go was more painful for her than he would ever know, if she could help it – she had to be firm with him, make her intentions clear and show no indication of hesitation or doubt, otherwise he might just convince her to stay. She had held off on bringing up this subject for long enough, and Frisk felt this was something that had to be done.

 Sans appeared utterly miserable at the revelation that she was indeed leaving, and this almost made her retract her previous statement. However, he managed to muster a smile for her before she could and asked,

 “but before you go, would you at least have one last cup of tea with me?”

 How could she turn away such an innocent request, especially accompanied with a face like that?

 Sans had asked her to wait in the living room for him; they would also read one more book together – again, she couldn’t find it within her to say no, even though it would undoubtedly make it all the more difficult for her to leave.

 It was halfway through his narration of the adventures starring a fluffy bunny and after she had finished her cup that it happened – Frisk was struck with a sudden and overpowering sensation of drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and Sans’s voice was beginning to sound far away even though she was right next to him.

 She reached out to weakly clutch onto his sleeve, and he stopped mid-sentence.

 “frisk?”

 “Sans... I... I can’t...” She mumbled, her words sounding slurred to her own ears.

 “can’t what? what’s wrong?” He questioned, setting the storybook to the side just in time for her to collapse onto his lap. “frisk!”

 “I’m sorry... I can’t anymore... I can’t...” She fought against the darkness of sleep that threatened to overtake her, but it was all in vain, she realized. “I can’t... stay awake... anymore...”

 Then everything. Went. Black.

 When she finally awoke from what had felt like a thousand-year sleep, the first thing that came into Frisk’s steadily returning vision was the familiar walls of the guest room and Sans’s worried face hovering over her, his eyelights having been reduced to tiny trembling pinpricks. The relief that washed over his expression was instantaneous, letting out a sigh of repose as he reached out to tenderly cradle her cheek.

 “pumpkin, how are you feeling? ...speak to me, baby girl.”

 “Sans...” She whimpered, still feeling lightheaded and weak. “...I feel like I’m made of stone and I’m falling. ...It’s horrible. I’m scared.”

 “frisk... i’m sorry... i’m so, so sorry...” Sans looked to be on the verge of tears; she wasn’t sure why he would be saying he was sorry – he had nothing to apologize for, no reason to blame himself. “...that unpleasant sensation of yours might go away in a few minutes. i hope... but frisk...? i think it might be best if you stay with me for a while longer, until you recover from this. maybe a few more days? on the chance that this might happen again?”

 “I... I think you might be right about that.” She groaned, her body feeling heavy as lead. “Because I can’t go anywhere like this. I can barely even move my head from side to side, much less my arms and legs. ...I’m the one that should really be sorry, Sans. You were finally going to be free of me, haha... And now you’re stuck with the burden of taking care of me again.”

 “hush. that’s enough of that.” He placed a bony finger against her lips. “i... i’ve never for a single instance seen you as a burden, frisk. and right now is no different. i’ll watch over and take care of you for as long as need be. because i love you...”

 She certainly believed him; there were no lingering doubts in her heart that he did, but Frisk still felt as though she didn’t deserve his love.

 The next few days passed by in a hazy blur. Frisk had once again regained mobility, late into the day after she had abruptly lost consciousness, but her motions and steps were still unpredictable and wobbly. Sans would take her by the hand and gently lead her wherever it was she needed to go, just like when she was relearning to walk when the bones in her legs had healed. She would outwardly bemoan how helpless she had become, but Sans persisted with his assertions that he didn’t mind offering her his assistance in the slightest.

 Sans rarely ever left her side since she arrived here, but today was one of those extremely rare occasions where he was forced to.

 Her skeletal pal had to run errands and leave her all alone for several hours – the supply of food in the house was running dreadfully low, so much so that the cabinets and fridge were practically empty. This was a task that must be done, Sans bitterly lamented, and he resolved to get it done and over with as quickly as possible so he could return to his dearly beloved human.

 Frisk did enjoy his presence, immensely so, but she also had to admit to herself that it was nice to finally have some alone time. The girl decided to take this opportunity to further explore the house in ways she couldn’t before. Like the basement that he was so determined to keep her out of. Every time she asked about it, he always gave her a different excuse as to why she shouldn’t wander down there when she pressed him enough. It was dirty down there, it was cold, it was dusty, she could get hurt...

 But something was calling her to it.

 She waited at least half an hour after Sans had left to begin her private research – just in case he forgot something and came back. She couldn’t have that. This felt so childish, a part of her argued, and perhaps it was. But as much as she adored him, Frisk was more than a bit put off with the way that he would sometimes treat her like an incompetent clumsy child that needed to constantly be looked after. Sans knew she wasn’t one and he had let her know on more than one occasion that he acknowledged this, but that didn’t stop him from babying her far more than necessary. Sometimes, she genuinely enjoyed it. And other times, it became annoying. And the past few days, it had been annoying.

 This was her tiny little slice of revenge! And Sans would never have to know, because it’s not like she would ever see him again after all this was over anyway...

 Frisk had previously pondered just how she was going to escape the Underground and return to the surface when she finally got around to doing it, and just where the rest of the Underground even was... and now she knew where to begin.

 At the end of the long, empty, hallway that Sans had frequently claimed was a basement, was a massive set of doors.

 There was a chilling air emanating around and from beyond them, so he hadn’t been completely misleading her about that. Everything else, though? Frisk now acknowledged that he had been more or less lying to her - and the worst part about that was, there was absolutely no reason for him to, as far as she understood.

 This discovery shouldn’t have been anything to obsess over, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of betrayal.

 With nothing else to gawk at down here, she spun on her heel and headed back upstairs to continue her investigation.

 The next item on her list was to traverse the other room that was branded taboo for her to enter. Not Sans’s room, no; she was almost always welcome there. The room at the very end of the hallway next to the mirror with the sign hanging on it that said ‘room under renovations’. It was entirely possible and believable that it truly was being reconditioned, but she’s had a hunch ever since she first laid eyes on it that there was something more to what lied beyond that door, something mysterious that the normally kindly skeleton didn’t want her seeing or bearing knowledge of.

 Well, Frisk was never one to follow directions to the exact letter.

 And it wasn’t like the sign placed on the door was telling her not to enter. The very same could be said of her visiting the lower level of the house. Sans had never once directly instructed her not to enter either, so there was no fault to be found in doing so.

 At least, this is what she tried to convince herself of as she twisted the knob, the guilt for merely touching it flooding her system. She could make all the excuses she wanted, bring forth all the technicalities that existed surrounding what she was doing, but deep inside her heart and SOUL, Frisk knew that this was wrong, that she was invading a space that Sans didn’t want her to step foot into.

 ...But that still didn’t stop her from doing it.

 The people that frequented her life in the past had often told Frisk while growing up that her curiosity would one day bring about her undoing. Perhaps they were right about that – she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this entire situation in the first place were it not for her inquisitive nature. Curiosity may indeed kill the cat, but the latter half of the saying was so often forgotten or dismissed.

 And right at this moment in time, Frisk was once again treading into dangerous territory in her never-ending quest for satisfaction.

 The door let out a slow creak that echoed horribly throughout the hallway, causing her to jolt and search for any sign of her caretaker while simultaneously struggling to formulate a believable justification for what she was doing before regaining her bearings and reminding herself that Sans was nowhere inside the house.

 Tentatively, she tiptoed into the dark room.

 The light that was cast from the hallway provided some much-needed illumination; she could see a wooden trunk of some sort next to a small child-sized bed, no two. One was decorated in blue sheets, and the other orange. Stepping closer, Frisk spotted something carved into the headboards of each. She inspected the blue one first – ‘Sans’ was chiseled in pretty cursive writing, accompanied by little artistic whittlings of bones.

 This must have been his old bed from when he was a babybones, she thought with delight – after constantly being dwarfed the big guy for so long, it was almost impossible for her to imagine that he had ever been that small!

 The second bed must have been his brother’s, then. Where his name had been on the first, the name ‘Papyrus’ was scrawled.

 She wondered what had caused the two brothers to separate. She hadn’t asked Sans about it, hadn’t even mentioned his brother again after that one time, since the subject seemed to deeply depress him.

 She doubted that this tiny bedroom would provide her with any answers, but Frisk wanted to look over everything that was present regardless.

 The girl then turned her attention towards the chest that was situated between the two beds; there was a lock on it, she noticed despairingly. Was the key somewhere in this room? Or was it hidden in Sans’s? Or perhaps elsewhere in the house? After a swift but thorough search, she decided that it couldn’t be anywhere here.

 It was time to search Sans’s room.

 Meticulously, she poked through his belongings, making certain that everything was in its exact place prior to her tampering with it before moving onto another area. She peeked under the king-sized bed, in the compartments of his desk, even his sock drawer (scandalous!), and caught not a single glimpse of the key she was seeking. Just as she was considering giving up on her curious quest, sitting on the bed with an irritated huff and a pout, a sudden thought, or rather a heightened sense of intuition came to her. And with it followed a burst of determination to finish what she had began.

 She then stood up and immediately thrust her hand beneath the mattress, groping the space between the fabric case and the rest of the bed until her fingers touched something cool and metallic. Frisk clasped her fingers around it and withdrew her arm from the cushiony confine and found that the object was indeed a key. Perhaps not the one she was looking for, but a key nonetheless.

 She sprinted back to the chest and jammed the key into the lock; it fit perfectly, and when she twisted it, the latch came undone with a satisfying click. Setting both to the side, Frisk then lifted the lid to the trunk.

 Inside it was... clothes. A lot of clothes. Specifically children’s clothes. Nothing too surprising, seeing as she was currently standing in what for all intents and purposes appeared to be the brothers’ childhood bedroom, but something felt... strangely off to her about them.

 She pushed the garments out of the way, rummaging through the contents of the trunk for anything else of interest; she uncovered one other thing – a book.

 Opening the cover revealed it to be a photo album. Frisk flipped through the pages, barely stifling the squeal that threatened to escape at the adorable sight of Sans as a small chubby child – she would swear her heart skipped a beat. The photographs in front of her were so precious that they almost hurt her heart!

 Taking the album, Frisk sat down on the floor to get more comfortable as she witnessed more scenes from his life. One that particularly stood out was little Sans grinning as he was being held by a much taller and older skeleton with one arm, while another one with small beady eyes was slung over his other shoulder, giggling. Underneath the photo was written in that same exquisite cursive writing, ‘I take a day off to spend with Sans and Papyrus! It’s obvious they’ve missed me a lot, even though I’ve been right there with them this entire time...’.

 Frisk felt her heart throb a bit again, this time out of sadness – this family was so happy in the past. She may not know their entire story, but whatever happened to them wasn’t fair at all.

 More and more photos of the two young brothers and this other skeleton appeared. In many of them, the adult brother was wearing a robe and crown, with the boys wearing similar regal finery. It was only when she saw a picture of the three, all sitting on extravagant thrones in the backdrop of what most definitely seemed to be a castle that the ball dropped.

 If this man was indeed the kind of monsters... then that made Sans a prince.

 At once, a pathway to a possible answer, though still foggy in places, had been revealed to her; a reasoning as to why Sans had chosen to live here after he fought with his younger brother. Sans had previously mentioned that his older brother adored humans. After he passed away, the two must have had a disagreement involving this. Sans clearly loved them as well, and though he should have been next in line for the throne, it was entirely plausible that monsterkind rejected his rule because of this.

 However, what she next discovered on the following pages caused her blood to run cold.

 There were photos of Sans, now an adult, posed alongside children. Human children. She counted six different ones, three boys and three girls, with none ever appearing in the same picture together. But perhaps the most startling thing of all that she became aware of was that the clothes they wore were identical to the ones stowed away in the trunk where she had found the album.

 ...What happened to all these children?

 They escaped the Underground, Frisk attempted to convince herself so she wouldn’t lose her mind. But a terrible ache in the pit of her stomach argued otherwise. If they had successfully returned to the surface, then why would their belongings be here? Something had happened to them, that much her heightened intuition was certain of.

 ...But surely Sans didn’t have anything to do with it.

 ......Did he?

 She didn’t have to ponder over this for long, because the sudden creaking of the door behind her alerted Frisk to the presence of another. There he was, the very monster she had just begun to doubt, standing there at the doorframe, having caught her rummaging through his personal belongings in a room that he had all but explicitly stated through thinly veiled hints that he wanted her to stay out of and away from.

 His expression was unreadable to her. He gazed at her with wide, empty sockets, his usual grin entirely absent on his face – his mouth was set in a firm line that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Sans didn’t say a word, didn’t move a single bone that composed his skeletal body. He just stared at her with those giant vacant black holes in the front of his skull.

 And Frisk then knew that what she had done, had utterly broken him.

 “Sans... I...” She spoke, her voice near unintelligibly faint, but after a few more seconds of silence, Frisk gave up on any attempt to explain herself – there was nothing to say, nothing she could say to make this situation she had created any better.

 He took one step towards her and she flinched. At this, the round white lights in his sockets returned, their appearance comparable to twin full moons in a starless night sky. They were large and gave off the impression of being unbearably sad, and the thin line of his mouth had morphed into a deep frown that dragged down the corners of his mouth further than she’d ever seen them before.

 “...it’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice sounding unnatural and croaky, as if holding back a sob. “i swear, it’s not. i didn’t do anything to them, frisk.”

 She clutched the photo album closer, wrapping her arms around its cover and pressing it against her chest as if it were a lifeline. She didn’t move, aside from her trembling. She was firmly locked into place while being subjected to his probing gaze.

 “...What happened to them then, Sans?” She fearfully questioned, her inquiry leaving her lips as nothing more than a murmur. “Who are these children?”

 “...they were mine.” He said at last, taking a shuddering breath. “they were like you – they fell down here and i took care of them. they stayed a while, and then they left me. ...and then i never saw any of them again.”

 “...Where are they now?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know.

 He mumbled something unintelligible.

 “I can’t hear you, Sans. You’re... you’re going to have to speak up if you want me to understand what it is that you’re saying...”

 His shoulders were shaking, violently so. His tightly closed fists were clenching the fabric of his robe so roughly that it threatened to tear.

 “Sans...?”

 “for the love of god, frisk! don’t make me say it!”

 His sudden shout caused her to cry out in alarm, letting out a short shriek of fright as she looked into those usually gentle, sleepy, and loving sockets that now displayed nothing but indescribable anguish, boundless sorrow, and unbridled fury.

 Frisk didn’t push him further for an answer, but he gave her one regardless.

 “you want to know where they are now, what happened to them?!” He hissed, his expression contorting to a hateful grimace as he thundered towards her. “they’re dead, frisk. they died... and he was the one that killed them!”

 “Who?!” She inadvertently yelped, shambling backwards to put some distance between them until her back inevitably hit the wall.

 “the king of monsters! the ruler of the underground! papyrus! my brother!” He howled in agony, his head tipping backwards with his scream while hot tears poured endlessly down his cheeks. “he killed every single one of them! one after the other! he made it law for any human discovered in the underground to be executed! and he didn’t show any of them the slightest shred of mercy, even though they were just children and he knew they were mine!”

 At the end of his outburst, Sans then collapsed onto his knees, pounding the wooden flooring underneath him with his fists as though doing this would lessen the pain he felt inside by even the smallest of amounts.

 He wouldn’t look at her, his head hung low as he glared at the floor with as much hatred as he could muster.

 “before our older brother passed, all he asked of us in his final moments was to love them, the humans. to grant them mercy despite everything... despite what the humans had done to him...” He said with a wet sob. “papyrus was angry... and i was too. but i respected him enough to obey his last request. it’s what he would have wanted. not... not this! he never would have wanted humans to die and another war to be declared in his name! i knew that, so i don’t know why papyrus would think that senseless violence and bloodshed was what he would have wanted as a direct result of his own death, when what he requested was the exact opposite!”

 Somewhere during Sans’s speech, Frisk had begun wailing herself, filled with remorse and regret.

 She had wanted answers... but not like this.

 She hadn’t expected her baneful curiosity would eventually lead to him becoming so upset that he would be reduced to a bawling puddle of bones before her very eyes.

 “I’m sorry...! I’m so, so sorry, Sans!” She sniveled, shamefully burying her face into her hands.

 She would have fully understood if he slapped her for betraying his trust the instant his back had been turned and causing him to relive such unpleasant, traumatic memories. What she didn’t understand was him weakly crawling towards her before gathering her trembling form in his arms, holding her close to him as if she were the most important thing in the world.

 “...you know what this means, don’t you, frisk?” He mumbled throatily as he nuzzled the top of her head with his nasal ridge. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you can’t ever leave this place, frisk. you can’t ever leave me... because the moment you do, the moment the other monsters find you, they’ll kill you.”

 “...I can’t ever go to the surface again?”

 “no, pumpkin. i’m sorry...”

 “But...” Any protests that she may have had instantly died on her lips.

 “i know this is a lot to take in, pumpkin. i said so before, that i really do believe if the rest of the monsters got to know you, if they would only give you the chance, they would grow to love you. ...but i thought the exact same of them, the children...”

 “You... You told me that it would be three and a half months...” She recalled aloud, eyes wide. “You said it would be three months and a half months until I could move. Until I could leave-”

 “i never said then that you could leave!” He cut her off, his expression and tone severe. “i said that’s how long it would take for you to make a complete recovery. ...i never once mentioned the possibility of you leaving the ruins.”

 “But you led me to believe that I could.” She argued, a hint of accusation in her own tone. “...Just when were you planning on telling me the truth? About all of this?”

 “i... i was going to, believe me, i was!” His front teeth bit down on the bottom of his mouth, a trait of his that manifested when under extreme stress. “it’s just... it seemed as if you enjoyed being with me. i thought... why bring up such a grim topic when you appeared perfectly happy?”

 “I was happy... Being with you, Sans... every day felt like something to look forward to. You’ve given me perhaps some of the happiest moments of my life so far.”

 “so naturally, you would want to leave me.” He bitterly spat, aiming a spurned pointed glare at her as he sarcastically added, “oh, i understand. i understand perfectly why you would want to leave now, frisk.”

 “Sans-”

 He abruptly grabbed her face, cradling her cheeks with his big skeletal hands, forcing her to look at him.

 “would staying here really be as horrible as you obviously think it will be? because... because your only other option here... is death! would you really rather die a senseless death than stay here with me? is that the point that you’re trying to get across?!”

 “Sans, you know that’s not-”

 “then what?! what have i done wrong?!”

 He was getting hysterical again, Frisk realized. She needed to say or do something that would settle him down.

 “Sans, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She calmly lied, patting his still quaking shoulders consolingly. “This is... This is just a lot to take in at once, like you said. I think I might just need some time for it all to sink in. Can you give me that? Some time?”

 “......ok.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “if time is all you need, i can give you that. i’ll... i’ll give you anything you want, frisk. anything within my power and the bounds of reason. just... please don’t leave me!”

 She didn’t say anything else; she just continued to soothingly stroke his bones until he regained his composure. By the time he did, it was late. And after all of that crying, both agreed that it was almost time for bed. Sans had cooked dinner for them, but Frisk told him that she had lost her appetite. He believed her excuse, but then told her that she was eating double portions at the breakfast table to make up for the lost meal.

 For a long while after having headed back to the guest room, Frisk just laid back on the bed, arms held behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

 Waiting.

 After no less than two hours had passed, this was when she decided to make her move. She climbed off the bed and took one last look at her surroundings that had become so familiar to her these past few months... then carefully crept down the hallway.

 When she reached Sans’s room, she pressed her ear against the door and stilled her breath, listening. He didn’t snore when he slept, she had learned that some time ago, but he did audibly mumble. About what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Sometimes his murmuring made some amount of sense and on other occasions it was utter nonsense, but the meaning of his unconscious soliloquies wasn’t what she needed to dwell on.

 No, what she couldn’t forget, the single thought that wouldn’t leave her mind and likely wouldn’t for some time was – Sans had drugged her.

 It was the tea that he had fed her immediately after she had mentioned leaving several days ago, this she was sure of. She had become weak and lost consciousness shortly after swallowing it. It had seemed like a mere coincidence then, but now, after having witnessed firsthand his desperation to keep her here...

 He may have had the best of intentions in doing so, but she couldn’t be around someone that would drug her, no matter how remorseful he was about it.

 Now certain that he was deep in sleep, Frisk then made her way towards the descending staircase. Her heart hammered inside her chest with every step she took, but she had managed to make it down into the hallway underneath the house without making any noise.

 As she rounded the corner, Frisk let out a long, soft sigh she hadn’t been aware she was holding. It was only a matter of time before she left this place behind, forever, and then it would be a fight for her own survival.

 But despite how terrifying Sans had made it sound...

 Frisk felt determined. Determined that she could survive the trials that awaited her in the Underground and reach the surface.

 But this sudden spark of determination was immediately snuffed out when she saw who was waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

 “this is the second time today that you’ve broken my trust, pumpkin.” Sans’s voice was unsettlingly calm considering the situation. “we’ve still got some time left until midnight – want to try and make it a third?”

 ...Where had he come from? How could he have made it to the doors before her when he would have had to of passed her in order to do so?

 “...I thought you were asleep.”

 “i could say the same for you.”

 “How did you know? Were you awake the whole time and heard me in the hallway upstairs? Did you know the exact moment when I got out of bed?”

 “no, i was definitely asleep. i didn’t hear a thing. but i felt it. i could feel you getting further and further away from me...” Sans’s left hand rose up to clutch at the fabric of his robe directly atop where his heart would be, if he had one. “...you’re really doing a number on my SOUL tonight, you know that, right?”

 “Sans, let me go.”

 “no! i’ll never let you go! i can’t! what part of certain death lying beyond this door are you not comprehending?!”

 “I think I can make it to the surface, Sans.” She tried to remain firm with her resolution, standing her ground against him. “Those other humans did die before me, but they were children-”

 “yes! you’re absolutely correct! they most certainly were children!” Came his dry, barking laughter. “and if monsterkind wouldn’t show mercy towards an innocent child, what makes you believe they would towards a stubborn adult woman?”

 “I... I don’t know! I just think I can-”

 “they all said the exact same thing! they all believed they were unstoppable...” He scowled at her, one of his pupils disappearing and the other turning a brightly glowing blue. “and i was convinced that this was true. all of their deaths were the result of my negligence. their demises are entirely my mistakes. ...but i won’t be making that same mistake again.”

 Sans then raised his hand and a red heart, cartoonish in shape, burst from her chest. Its color then changed to a deep blue, and an unanticipated weight fell over her, not unlike the one that came when she consumed his drugged tea. She found it incredibly difficult to move, but not impossible.

 Frisk took a few staggering steps towards him, towards the door. However, the girl was stopped in her tracks when she was magically lifted up into the air. She struggled to shake off the invisible grip his mysterious power had over her, but it was no use.

 “Sans, put me down!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him in warning, but he wasn’t even looking at her.

 He was looking down the hallway, where both of them had come from. He then began walking in that direction, with her still dangling in midair.

 “Are you... Are you seriously going to leave me here like this?!” She yelped.

 “of course not. it’s cold here.” He huffed, motioning her body forward with her having no choice but to obey his command.

 “What... What are you going to do to me, then?” She fearfully inquired, causing his hardened gaze to soften just slightly.

 “the first thing i’m going to do is put you to bed for the night. ...i’m not going to hurt you, pumpkin, if that’s what you’re thinking. never.” He assured her in his usual low and gentle tone. “...but if you insist on acting like a child, then i’m going to treat you like one until you can behave like the grown woman you actually are.”

  As she was being dragged away, Frisk took one last look at the door that separated the Ruins from the rest of the Underground, knowing that she wouldn’t be seeing it again for a long, long time, if ever.

#franstastic writes #frans #sans x frisk #yandere altertale #sans #frisk #flowey

[shan282-ao3]

The Devil Has Come Ch2

Originally posted on Archive of Our Own [x]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Far Cry 5 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed Characters: Original Female Character(s), John Seed, Jacob Seed, Joseph Seed, Faith Seed, Staci Pratt, Nick Rye, Sharky Boshaw, Female Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Original Male Character(s), Kim Rye, Boomer (Far Cry), Joey Hudson, Earl Whitehorse Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Character Death, Slow Burn Series: Part 1 of Bottom of The River

Summary: They should never have been there. Whitehorse and Pratt were right when they spoke against going to Eden’s Gate. They should have left The Project alone. They’d started something and there was no going back now. The lamb had broken the first seal and the deputy had been helpless to stop her.

Read Below:

“Who’s a good boy?” Sarah cooed at the dog, her voice high and babyish. “You are Boomer, yes you are.” She laughed as the dog jumped up and licked her chin. “I love you too. God, you are precious. Yes you are, yes you are, best boy.”

“Jesus Christ Lamb.” Rook said from where she stood in front of the car with a deadpan look on her face. “Leave him be and help me fix this stupid truck.” Sarah rolled her eyes but stood to help her friend.

“I, for the record, have no clue what I’m doing here.” She said as she leaned over the hood of the car, waving her hand to keep the steam away from her face. She held her blowtorch uselessly.“Maybe we just walk until we find another one, the Peggies have an infinite amount of trucks it seems so we could just take one from them.” Rook looked between the truck, Sarah, and the direction they were trying to go before shrugging an I guess so. “Let’s go, boy, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” She called out to the dog who had run off to bark at a squirrel.

They walked in comfortable silence. It’d been nearly three weeks since they’d run into each other after the events at The Compound. Sarah was beyond grateful that the woman was alive. She’d been shocked to learn that Dutch of all people had pulled her from the river and kept her safe. He was not exactly known for his kindness towards strangers.

Already Rook had made waves in Hope County. She’d taken Dutch’s island back from the cult and now everyone and their grandmother was radioing her, begging for help with whatever problems they were having. Sarah didn’t mind it much at first; even in this fucked up situation she was still an officer of the law and her job was to help people. But as the days went by the pleas for help got more and more stupid and Sarah was getting more than a little peeved at being treated like an errand girl.

They’d rescued Boomer from some cultists a few days after finding each other again and with his owners dead they had made the executive decision to take him along with them. This had resulted in Sarah spending a lot of time sitting in the trunk of the truck they had so she could pet Boomer while they drove. She had always loved this dog since she moved into the county, he was Hope County’s pride and joy. She, however, didn’t have a picture of him in her house like she’d noticed a lot of other people did. That was just weird. Why would she have a picture of someone else’s dog sitting in her living room? Besides the fact, Finny would probably get jealous.

She’d managed to get in contact with Kim Rye once she’d gotten away from The Compound and had confirmed that Finny was being fed. Apparently, he’d taken his feeding into his own paws and shown up at the Rye’s door screaming like the demon bastard he was until they let him in. He’d never even been to their house how the hell did he find it?

As they walked, Sarah spotted another one of John’s silos and nodded towards it, splitting away from Rook and Boomer. She half jogged to the silo and pulled a remote explosive from her pack, fixing it to the side of the silo. Instead of rejoining Rook on the road like a sane person before blowing it, Sarah moved out of the blast radius and ducked behind some metal containers before blowing the explosive. The force sent her falling back on her ass groaning and the whole world went silent except for an extremely annoying high pitched ringing in her ears. She didn’t meet Rook’s eyes when she returned, ignoring the woman’s amused grin, and started walking again. She was definitely going to have tinnitus before the month was over.

Nearly a half hour of walking later, they found an abandoned truck on the side of the road, the word Sinner painted onto the hood. Sarah was beyond grateful, it was relatively warm out and the Rye & Son bomber jacket she had on really wasn’t helping. She couldn’t wait to blast some sweet, sweet air conditioning.

“You driving?” She asked, grinning when Rook shook her head and walked around to the passenger’s side. Sarah loved driving but Rook hadn’t given her much of a chance. In the rookie’s defense, on their first night meeting again after The Compound Sarah had taken a corner way too fast in the ATV and caused them to spin out and get thrown from the vehicle as it landed upside down in a ditch. Rook hadn’t really been letting her drive much since then.

Sarah climbed into the driver’s seat and set to work hot-wiring the truck. “Tell me again where you learned to do that?” Rook asked, her eyebrow raised. “Is that something they teach all Sheriff’s Deputies in Montana now? Because if so I missed that day at the academy.”

“Well, long story short, last year I got sent out to arrest this Sharky guy. I chased him, he wasn’t wearing any pants, my keys got dropped, and I ended up locked out of my cruiser with a cuffed idiot. He broke into it for me and hot-wired it. I let him go, didn’t seem right to arrest him anymore after he helped me out. He even looked for my keys afterward and sent them to the station in the mail a week later with some crudely drawn picture of me chasing him.” Sarah recalled and shrugged at Rook’s slightly shocked look. “He’s cool, sets a lot of shit on fire and breaks way too many laws, but he hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

The engine sputtered to life and Sarah smiled, leaning back in her seat and clapping her hands together. “She’s all set Rook.” She jumped out and helped Boomer into the backseat of the truck before climbing back in and buckling her seatbelt. She sat there staring pointedly at Rook until she finally sighed and did her own seatbelt buckle. “Would you rather get thrown through the window when a Peggie comes out of nowhere and hits us head on? I didn’t think so.”

Sarah reached over and flipped through the radio stations, stopping on Peggie radio. She’d been listening to the station for a few months, the songs were catchy as hell. Rook had given her a skeptical look the first time she’d turned it on, but since then Sarah had caught her quietly singing along to some of the songs.

The truck jerked forward as Sarah pressed her foot down on the gas and they sped forward. Yeah, she probably shouldn’t be allowed to drive.

Sarah watched Rook in the facility below her through the scope of her sniper rifle. She’d stolen it off a Peggie corpse when they’d gotten to Gardenview. They had meant to take the packing facility back from The Project the day they’d been across the street getting Boomer, but the silo they had blown at the pumpkin farm that same day had brought in way more reinforcements than they could handle so they’d decided to leave it. Thankfully the extra Peggies had finally cleared out so they’d decided that morning it was time to take the facility back.

Sarah had mixed feelings about liberating this outpost just as she had about the few others. Most of the outpost properties around the county were legally owned by the Seeds so she and Rook really had no right to take them. But the law had been practically thrown out the window and Rook, eager to prove herself and a hero to the people, though it was smartest to take them so they could limit the cult’s influence.

Rook and Sarah had both agreed that a silent approach would be best and with no silencer on any of their guns, they’d have to rely on the four throwing knives they had between each other and sneaking up on people. Sarah had opted to stay in cover and watch, she could guard Rook’s back better from afar and worst case shoot out the alarms before they could be triggered in case someone saw her. One by one Peggies dropped to the ground and Sarah felt a little guilty over the massive swell of pride she felt when she saw how well Rook was adapting to this new, chaotic world.

She perked up when Rook raised an arm, signaling for her to take out the sniper above while she grabbed the last man on the ground. Sarah swiveled her scope over to the man on top of the building and lined up the shot. She took a deep breath before letting it out and freezing, her finger resting on the trigger as she waited for the man to stop moving so much. Finally, he picked a spot and stood still for a moment just as her lungs were starting to scream and she squeezed the trigger.

A loud crack shot through the air, almost drowning out the sound of The Father’s voice pouring out of the speakers. The sniper dropped almost instantly to the ground. There was a cut-off scream that accompanied it followed by the sickening crunch of Rook snapping the shouting man’s neck and then it was over. They’d cleared the outpost.

Sarah took her time joining Rook in the packing facility, Boomer walked a few feet ahead of her looking around excitedly and she couldn’t help but smile. There was no sense of urgency now so she took a few moments to herself to admire the beauty of the world around her. Even in the middle of all this chaos and death, Hope County still managed to take her breath away with its beauty. It was in this peacefulness as she walked through the tall grass, breathing in the air of the forest and farmland and coming down from her slight adrenaline high, that Sarah was reminded of why she came here in the first place.

She’d grown up in a big city surrounded by endless apartments and office buildings and an infinite swirl of strangers. Ever since she could remember she’d longed to live in a small town where everyone knew everyone’s business just like she’d see in movies. Hope County, while a county, not a town, gave her that small town picture she’d craved since childhood.

Sarah finally reached Rook just as she was finishing up calling the members of the Resistance to come to Gardenview and set up shop so The Project couldn’t take it back. She swung an arm around her smaller partner and looked up at the big building with a sense of achievement. “I’m gonna look for goodies.” She announced and left Rook once again to search for an office where there might be something left behind by the Peggies they had just killed.

The office was locked, of course, but a note alerted her to where she could find the key she shook her head at the total idiocy of the previous owners. If you were going to go through all that trouble to lock the office to keep people out why would you leave a note basically telling everyone where the key was.

She had just grabbed the key from the small store beside the road and was walking back when her radio crackled to life and an all too familiar voice came to life over the static, “Hello Deputy.” Sarah stopped in her tracks and pulled the radio close to her face. The frequency he was on was private supposedly, only she and Rook used it, so how the hell had he figured that out.

“John.” She answered coldly as she backtracked to the market stall so as not to be overheard by any wandering civilians already at the packing facility. She didn’t want to cause a panic so soon after John had taken Rook for her baptism last week. His capture party had caught them by surprise and shot them both with bliss bullets. Sarah had woken up groggy and cold by the side of the road with Boomer’s head resting on her stomach. She’d been both terrified for Rook and seriously pissed off that John’s men had just left her on the road to freeze to death or get murdered by a wolverine.

“I want to offer you the same gift that I offered your partner: freedom from sin. I can save you.” He said, his voice as dramatic as ever.

Sarah didn’t bother holding back her annoyed groan. “You clearly didn’t care about saving me last week when you left me for dead on the side of the road.” She snapped back, she didn’t have much patience for all this atonement crap or for John Seed at the moment.

“My chosen were under orders to bring The Seal Breaker to me, not her hired gun and their dog. It was the will of The Father.” That made sense but Sarah was still pissed. “I have seen your sins, I wish to help you be free of them. I have already sent my chosen for you, don’t fight them. Come willingly and I won’t have to be quiet as harsh.” His last words were threatening and set the hair on the back of Sarah’s neck on end.

She gnawed at her lip for a minute before clipping her radio back to her belt and marching to where Rook was counting her bullets. “Is your radio on our frequency?” Sarah asked when she’d reached her friend.

“No, it’s still on the Resistance frequency. Why?” Rook asked curiously and Sarah was secretly more than a little glad that Rook hadn’t heard her conversation with John. She didn’t want to worry her partner any more than she already was, she didn’t need to know that John Seed was about to have not one, but two of Hope County’s deputies.

“A friend radioed me asking for some help so I’m going to go see what I can do. I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest I hope.” Ideally, she’d be back before the day was over but she was almost certain John wouldn’t be letting her go that quickly. “If you want another gun, maybe see if Armstrong can help you out, she’s one helluva shot.” Rook nodded at that and wished her luck before refocusing on her task.

Sarah knew she didn’t have a whole lot of time before John’s cultists found her so she quickly unlocked the building’s office and stuffed her sniper behind the desk, emptying everything important from her pockets into an empty filing cabinet. Once she was armed with only a combat knife and her pistol she locked the door behind her and started walking towards the road, making a quick detour to hide the key in the gutters of the market stall where hopefully no one would find them.

It wasn’t long before she heard the capture party’s loud voices. “There she is.” “Don’t kill her, use the bliss bullets.”

Sarah fought the instinct to run and instead raised her arms above her head and walked calmly towards the cultists. She bit back a scream as a bliss bullet lodged itself in her arm. “Fuck.” She grunted as the world started to spin and her vision sparkled. She let herself drop to the ground before she could lose consciousness and lay back on the warm pavement with her eyes to the sky until every faded to black.

Sarah’s entire body felt like it weighed a million tons but she was grateful for the considerably dulled ache in her head as the last time it had been excruciating. She struggled to open her eyes for a few minutes before finally, she was able to keep them open for more than a few seconds. Sluggishly she took in her surroundings, slightly surprised to find that she was leaned against a tree near a river in some kind of clearing. She had expected to be half drowned or tied down by now.

She tried to move forward, huffing as her arms, still so fucking heavy, inched forward incredibly slow. She let out a groan of frustration and slumped back against the tree.

“You’re awake.” Came a voice that was just a touch too excited for how Sarah was feeling right now and she turned her head to the find the owner of the voice. John Seed, The Baptist, was sitting in a chair near the water smiling at her. She had to squint against the sunlight pouring down on him. “I apologize for the bliss bullet, I expected you to put up a fight.”

Sarah shrugged in response, “You were gonna get me anyways.” She said, her voice groggy.

John grinned happily and stood, walking to stand in front of her. He grabbed her hands and pulled her up. Once she was standing she cautiously looked around, taking in more now that she was almost fully awake. The little clearing she was in was decorated with a few white sheets of fabric tied between trees, a cool breeze blowing at them. She took a sharp breath at the beauty of the setting, it looked almost angelic, like something out of a fantasy novel. John’s eyes reflected his pride at her admiration of his space.

“Come, Deputy,” He beckoned and pulled her with him towards the water, his suffocatingly blue eyes never leaving her own. “Let me wash away your sins.”

Sarah wanted to shove him away. She knew she should curse at him and make a break for it, but she instead followed him as if pulled by some invisible string. They stepped into the water and she was oblivious to its cold bite. The warmth from the sunlight and John’s hands pushed away the cold until the water had reached her stomach and she gasped.

They stopped and she gave him a questioning look, if he wanted to he could drown her right now and from what Rook had told her of her own baptism he would easily succeed if it tried.

“I’m not going to kill you.” He gave her a disappointed look as if reading her mind and his grip on her hands tightened. “You have to trust me, let me cleanse you.”

A flare of childish defiance raced through her and Sarah pulled her hands from him and took a step back. She saw anger flash through John’s eyes for a second and the corners of her lips tugged in a tiny smirk. He took a step towards her and she stayed still this time. Even as one of his hands came up to cradle her face while the other wrapped firmly around her throat she stayed completely still, just watching. His warm breath fanned across her face as their eyes stayed locked and neither dared speak.

He wore a smile as he slowly pushed her down with the hand on her throat, Sarah giving in to the lingering heaviness of her limbs and letting him. She took a breath before her head was submerged, her eyes shutting on reflex against the water. When she blinked them open she locked with John’s through the rippling of the water and she watched as his mouth moved while he recited what was undoubtedly a prayer of salvation from the Book of Joseph. Rook had described her own experience as terrifying, but in the almost too bright sunlight, Sarah couldn’t help but find the situation almost calming.

John looked different from this angle. His face was a mask of serenity and focus, whatever other emotions may slip through were hidden from her by the water. He’d left his sunglasses behind and now a few chunks of hair flopped down adorably over his forehead. His only focus was on her. If she didn’t know who he was and all the terrible things he did Sarah might fall in love with him right there.

She had been baptized before at her mother and father’s urging and it had been nothing like this. It had been almost clinical, but this, this felt almost intimate. This felt like something she could never tell anyone, a delicious secret she would die before revealing.

Her lungs had begun to scream and her body took control. Both hands grappled at the wrist if the hand around her throat as John exerted more force to keep her down. Her legs kicked definitely as panic started to take over. Just before she went into full-blown fight or flight mode he pulled her up, his arms wrapping around her to support her as she coughed up what water she’d breathed in.

As she fought to catch her breath, she felt his lips move against her ear, his voice quiet and preaching. “May we stand in the light of God, and walk through his gates unto Eden.” He finished and pulled away, cupping her face, and she saw something that looked like awe in his gave. “Can you feel it? You’re one step closer to atonement.”

Sarah just stared at him, in shock at how gentle he was being. It was getting slightly unnerving and she found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Soon you will confess every sin you have ever committed, no matter how small, and I will carve them from you and then you will know what it means to be free.” There it was, the threat of violence she’d been waiting for since she woke up. “But not now, not tonight. Tonight you will rest and tomorrow we will begin.” He was grinning ear to ear now and he grabbed her hand, pulling her with him back to the shore.

#the devil has come #tdhc #deputy sarah lamb #ao3 #far cry 5 #sarah lamb #ao3 feed

[ko-fanatic]

A Lilac Rose (Part one)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Pairings: KyoKao, TamaHaru

Summary: Kyo just knew today was going to be a disaster, but what was new about that? (Trans Girl Kyoya, Genderfluid Haruhi - male presenting)

Kyo crossed her legs and leaned back further in her seat, hand entwined with Kaoru’s as she surveyed the chaos that was this impromptu shopping trip. She was thankful that she had such accepting friends, most of them being queer themselves didn’t hurt, but this was going to be a nightmare; the mall trip all over again. Coming out had been nerve-wracking, of course, but this was the one outcome she didn’t think about; Haruhi was the designated “girl” to fawn over, after all…

“Not a girl,” He interrupted, Kyo’s head whipping around to face him so fast that she might’ve gotten whiplash. She knew what he was doing, of course, but that was a lot more unsettling than she thought it would be, “It seems the student has become the master.”

“Like you care about which gender you’re referred to as,” She smirked, leaning her arm on top of Haruhi’s head and putting her full weight on the small boy. A bit mean, perhaps, but certainly nothing that hadn’t happened before for less.

“Hey, get off, you’re heavy,” He huffed, trying to shove her off, though it was still playful, “Use your boyfriend as an armrest, not me.”

“What a rude thing to say to a girl,” Kyo commented, but did let her go, “Saying such things about a lady’s weight, you absolute brute. Honestly, the cheek.”

“You sound like your grandmother, Kyo,” Hikaru snickered, only to be cut off.

“Be careful back there, kids,” Tachibana cautioned, gaze flicking up to the rear-view mirror quickly before it went back to the road, “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Sorry, Tachibana,” Tamaki chuckled nervously, “Everyone will behave.”

“Will we?” The twins deadpanned in unison, hints of mischief attempting to lilt their voices, but they kept firm. After all, if m’lord was going to speak for them like that, he was only inviting his own misfortune. His own hilarious misfortune.

“Of course!” Tamaki insisted, “After all, we’re all here today not only to give Kyo some much needed new clothes and makeup, but to show her that we support her identity and reward her trust and courage. That doesn’t include running amok and making more work for her.”

“Wow… Thank you, Tamaki, that was very touching,” Kyo said, completely sincere. It wasn’t exactly surprising, Tamaki was sweet to a fault, but there was always some sort of fear when it came to stripping off some metaphorical armour. Especially something as big as hey, I don’t identify as a guy; can you call me a different name and pronouns please.

“You’re our friend!” Tamaki enthused, “We’re all behind you. Girl, boy, neither, both; you’re Kyo, and we love you.”

“And if a single person misgenders you purposefully, we’ll kick their asses,” Kaoru added, giving Kyo a forehead kiss after brushing her hair away. He was careful with it, as she was still getting used to the extensions she had put in the day before, and she gave him one of her small smiles in return.

“So, what’s the first stop?” Hani asked, munching on a chocolate bar Mori had given him to get the small boy to actually settle down, like a true tired parent. Not necessarily negligent, but more just wanting their kid to sit down and shut up for once.

“The first stop is private,” Kaoru informed, “Kyo and I only. You guys can go get a milkshake, or something.”

“What are you doing to my darling daughter, you sinister twin?” Tamaki accused, finger pointing at Kaoru’s confused face. Huh. A weird turn of events.

“Daughter?” Kyo inquired, raising an eyebrow, “What happened to Mommy? Have you finally stopped referring to Haruhi like that?”

“Well, daughter is no longer fully appropriate for Haruhi, both because he’s my boyfriend – today, at least – and I… That’s pretty creepy,” He grimaced, cringing at himself as if it were a few years ago when he referred to Haruhi like that, when in reality it was only a matter of weeks, “Anyway, any girl in the host club can be my daughter to dote upon!”

“No thank you,” Kyo denied, a deadpan expression on her face, “I’m happy to stick to mommy, being referred to as your daughter is far too strange.”

“Well then… I can’t say mommy, because that’s also weird with me dating Haruhi and all… How about sister?” Tamaki offered, and when he got a nod of approval, he continued to try and get more information about the private location from Kaoru, “Now that’s sorted, WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY LITTLE SISTER YOU EVIL TWIN!”

“Ouch, dude, too loud,” Haruhi groused, covering his ears with his hands and his mouth pulled into a grimace. In his defence, Tamaki had yelled right in his ear.

“But he could do anything to her without us there, Haruhi!” Tamaki whined, the only real response being several pairs of rolled eyes and Kyo wondering if she should be a little offended that Tamaki thought she should be protected from her own boyfriend. Still, this was Tamaki, and it was just how he expressed concern and care, “He could take her to some sort of kinky sex dungeon!”

The car swerved, Tachibana letting out a string of obscenities and Hotta screeching like a girl. The teenagers in the back were scared stiff for a moment or two, but luckily the swerve wasn’t too violent, and it was more out of shock than anything. At some point Kyo almost jumped into Kaoru’s lap – would have if it weren’t for her seatbelt – but was clinging onto his waist. He didn’t mind though, and just wrapped an arm around her shoulders in response, giving her a comforting squeeze.

“Okay, kids…” Tachibana began, sounding all too breathless for a moment before clawing back composure, “I’m going to mute the sounds from back there, okay? I never want to hear anything like that ever again, Master Tamaki – that’s my baby girl you’re talking about.”

“Yes sir!” Tamaki yelped, Tachibana pressing the button that essentially soundproofed the back of the limousine. It was there so that the people being chauffeured could get a little privacy, but Kyo supposed that blocking out Tamaki’s overprotective nonsense was also a good use of the feature.

“Look, Tamaki, if I were to take my girlfriend to a kinky sex dungeon, I’d tell you guys to go see a movie,” Kaoru deadpanned, running his fingers through her hair, “Getting milkshakes wouldn’t give us enough time. What can I say? My pretty kitty likes to play ~”

Kyo snorted, chuckling to herself as Tamaki screamed and Haruhi tried to block it out. Of course, if Tachibana could hear them then Kaoru would never have said that in fear of his instant and painful demise, but it was fun to watch Tamaki freak out and Hikaru mime throwing up. The only hint of regret came with Mori giving them both a disapproving look, but even that was kind of worth it.

“Look, Tamaki, calm down,” Kyo laughed, trying to get the blond moron to shut his mouth for a moment, “It’s nothing perverted, he’s just helping me pick out some… more delicate articles of clothing. Things I don’t want you guys to see under any circumstances.”

“No, no, I forbid it, young lady!” Tamaki denied, Haruhi trying to hold him back despite being smaller and weaker than him, his face a picture of strain and concentration, “I do not approve of this doppelganger seeing your underwear! He’ll think of all sorts of perverted fantasies about you, painting you in some hyper-sexualised, vulnerable light like that awful hentai we walked in on Renge watching!”

“He already has perverted fantasies about her,” Hikaru pointed out, smacking his brother upside the head, “I never wanted to know about the cat ears, you furry fuck.”

“Well that’s what you get for looking through my stuff,” Kaoru returned, shoving him back and straight into poor Mori, who luckily managed to steady the other boy before Hikaru ended up sprawled in his lap, “Karma – like myself – is a bitch.”

“If you guys are quite finished talking about mine and Kaoru’s sex life, we’re pulling into the multi-storey,” Kyo pointed out, an amused smirk playing on her glossed lips and the corners of her eyes slightly crinkled – genuine. Kaoru always melted at the sight, unable to help himself as his dearest expressed such legitimate happiness, finding joy in being able to tell the real smiles – or smirks – from the fake and overly polite. She just looked so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but pepper kisses over her cheeks.

Hikaru made gagging noises, obnoxiously turning in his seat and drawing attention to the fact that he didn’t want to see his brother and his girlfriend acting all sappy. In other words, drawing attention to the fact he was sulking. Luckily, that was something that both Kyo and Kaoru loved to exploit, and Hikaru either hadn’t twigged on that it only spurred them on or he couldn’t control himself. Both were equally plausible.

“Enjoy the milkshakes, I’ve got to help someone special pick out underwear that’s just as beautiful and delicate as she is,” Kaoru winked, grabbing Kyo’s hand and bolting from the car, their laughter intertwining wonderfully with Hikaru’s indignant squawking and Tamaki’s dismayed yelling.

This was going to be a disaster, as most things concerning the host club were, but they’d be damned if it wasn’t an enjoyable one.

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #kyokao #tamaharu #kyoya ootori #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #tamaki suoh #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #Mitsukuni Haninozuka #a lilac rose series #my fanfiction

[onewhoturns]

4-1

So many tropes that I adore. People being decent to others who are under the influence is one of them. Previously: Prelude, 1-1, 1-2, 1-3, 2-1, 2-2, 2-3, 2-4, 3-1, 3-2, 3-3. If you want to read some of my actual posted stuff: AO3, FFnet, and if you’re curious about a ko-fi preview of 4-2.

She was hungry. She felt so empty without the taste of sunshine that had filled her with such joy, such warmth - such complete delirious contentment. She’d tried to clean it all off of her, slurping at the fabric of her dress, licking her fingers raw, but there was nothing left. But she’d been told to wait. That if she waited there would be more. So she did.

She had her chin tucked against her arm, where golden pulp had stained her what felt like too long ago, sucking the flesh there until it bruised, when she heard a hiss - a soft crackle like meat on a spit - coming from the other side of the door. Emily let her head roll against the floor, lips swollen for all her effort, staring up from where she lay on her back, limbs akimbo, a mess of ripped fabric and sticky skin.

Brown eyes, wide and vacant, watched the man who entered with a curious confusion, shifting and tilting until she very nearly viewed him upside down as the door shut behind him. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Like the kind woman who’d given her the fruit, his humanity was too perfect. “You’re glowing.” She reached a hand for him, pawing at the air like a cat, a cautious smile spreading over her face. Her words were a loud, drunken whisper. “You’re so pretty, did you know that? Did you know you’re pretty?”

She didn’t understand why he looked at her like that. He looked sad - or maybe angry - his lip curled like he was disgusted by something and her eyes widened in worry that it was her, that she was doing something wrong. She rolled over, pulling herself up enough so she might crawl on bruised knees to his feet, and fumbled her way to a sitting position, hands wrapping around his leg and clutching herself to him. “I’m sorry - please don’t be angry - you’re too pretty to be angry.”

She felt him tense, saw him holding one of his wrists, the hand raw and red and shiny, as she gazed up at him with big adoring eyes.

“I’m-” His voice was strained as he spoke, but it came out even. “I’m not angry with you, Emily. But please let go.”

She sat back on her haunches, hands clasped patiently in her lap, as she cocked her head. Everyone else had liked her begging them. Had liked making her beg, like some kind of pet - but she felt loved for it. They would stroke her hair and give her fruit, for all they had her on her knees. If he didn’t want her to plead for it, he would have something else she could do instead - something else to entertain him, to make him laugh the way the witches did, their sharp laughter stabbing at her and confusing her and making her smile. “Do you-” She blushed as she words bubbled from her throat before she realized it, and she stopped herself, glancing to the floor bashfully. Despite knowing it was impolite, she still mumbled hopefully, “...Did you bring more?”

“More-?”

Her head snapped up, face lighting expectantly, and saw the realization dawn on him. He looked at her again, seeming to take all of her in now with a furrowed brow and calculating gaze.

When he spoke, she had a feeling the words weren’t directed at her, murmured so lightly into the air. “...Faerie fruit.”

They weren’t for her, she knew they weren’t, but they still made her sit up eagerly, eyes bright.

His expression grew guarded before, adopting an air of calm patience, he lowered himself to one knee so he was eye to eye with her. “Emily, I need you to answer me honestly.”

She swayed toward him, smile creeping back onto her face.

“Do you have your salt?”

Her smile faltered, then died. Confusion and a kind of childish guilt made her shift and look away as she hesitated and shook her head. She shouldn’t. She did, but she shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, it was bad to have, it was dangerous, and they would be so disappointed in her and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

“Emily.” His tone was firm, warning, and she looked at him with wide eyes as she shook her head more adamantly. She wasn’t sure she could lie if she opened her mouth, so she kept it closed. He watched her for a long moment, his stare piercing straight through her in a way that made her toes tingle even as she worried. “Please don’t make me order you to do it.”

“Do what?” She shifted uneasily, avoiding his gaze.

The air in the closet fell silent, and when Emily finally looked up at him, he looked a mix of annoyance and careful consideration. His lips pursed for a brief moment before he finally spoke. “If you have salt on your person, I’d appreciate if you retrieved it yourself.”

He spoke to her like it was her choice, but she was finding it hard to comprehend what that meant. “I…” Why was he confusing her like this? She knew she shouldn’t have salt, shouldn’t eat salt, but he seemed to want her to have it? And she did have it. But she shouldn’t have it. Should she? This was too complicated.

There was a sound from the corridor, and his head snapped toward it. When he spoke, his voice was very low, eyes on the door. “Turn out your pockets.”

She sighed in relief. Something clear, easy to follow— and she did so immediately, contents spilling to the floor.

He didn’t even glance back as he commanded her again. “Eat the salt.”

“No.” She balked at the order. The one thing she couldn’t do.

“Emily-” He cut himself off as he looked back to her, her eyes wide and fearful, hands raised defensively. He took a deep breath, and when he resumed speaking it was with a purposeful calm. “Emily, we are both in danger here and you need to escape. You cannot do that in your current state. I will not drag you kicking and screaming. You need to come to your senses, and for that you need salt. Do you understand me?”

Emily hesitated. Slowly, she shook her head. When he lifted a pinch of salt from the floor, holding it out to her, she slapped his hand away. “No!” She scrambled to her feet, stepping back, knocking over a bucket in her haste, the hollow wooden sound echoing too loud in the small room.

“...You won’t do this on your own, will you.” It was less a question than a statement. Emily shook her head. “And you’ll fight me if I try to make you.” She nodded. “And that will make an awful lot of noise.” She cocked her head and shrugged slightly. He looked down at the salt in his hand, sighing. “...How needlessly complex.”

Emily looked down at her own hands, weaving her fingers together. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to be good, wanted to make people happy, and he looked so unhappy, but he was trying to get her to do things she knew were the most wrong thing she could possibly imagine in her enchanted state. It hurt her head. So she leaned back against the shelves of linens, fidgeting and looking away.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She felt too ashamed to look him in the eye, instead watching the feet that stepped toward her. “But I will.”

There was a brief moment of surprise, senses slowed by the drug of the fruit, before she hurriedly kissed him back. She yielded so quickly to him, so happy to make someone so lovely feel good, her face tilted to his and limbs weak, lips parting at the slightest suggestion he might want more. Compliant. Terrifyingly compliant. But no sooner had his tongue swept over her lips than he pulled away.

A flicker of hurt showed in her vacant eyes, trying to lean toward him, to continue the kiss, but he held her back with a hand on each shoulder. He was watching her sharply, his lips in a grim line as he briefly glanced away to spit on the floor. It took her a moment to understand why he did so, but as she thoughtlessly licked her own lips, it clicked into place. Salt.

Her ears roared as her mind rushed back to her, and Emily’s face drained of all color. “-Oh.” She barely managed the single syllable before she shoved him away, dropping to her knees, scrabbling for the discarded bucket and retching. Every part of her ached and trembled and her mind was a mess of hazy memories that only made her queasier.

“We need to leave, Emily.”

Her eyes were watering, but she didn’t cry. Just the sickness. She’d have time to think about her feelings later. He was right, they had to leave. She needed out.

“I can help with the nausea if you’ll let me-”

“Magic?” Her voice was hoarse as she glared at him, but his nod was impassive. “No.” She shook her head as she pulled a towel from a shelf, making an attempt to clean herself up and grimacing. “I’ll be fine. Just-- just shock.”

He didn’t argue. “Most of the witches are preoccupied - those on watch at the side entrance have been taken care of. We’ll need to exit the palace before they’re found.”

“I need weapons.” When he sent her a warning look, she glared. “If I get caught again, I need to be able to fight back.”

He seemed about to speak, but then his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tight, and his nod was curt.

As Emily glanced around, checking the closet for other things she might use, her eyes rested on the discarded knife, dropped to the ground along with the berries and salt. She quickly tamped down whatever that feeling was, that thought that she’d had a weapon and it had done nothing, that it had been useless in the face of her own sheer-

Stop it.

Her limbs were stiff - sore - and she quickly gave up on trying to take stock of the state of her body. She was sick, she was sickened, and she didn’t have time to dwell on such things. Get out. Get safe. Over and over the words repeated in her mind, blocking out any other thought or memory.

Get out. Get safe.

keep reading

#dishonored fanfic #fae au #fae #emsider #dishonored fae au #dishonored fairy au #faerie fruit #tw victim blaming #i guess? #my writing #writing #fanfic #fic #wip

[fangirlj-is-a-writer]

Run.

Alina Willow Rowland was, and had always been a city girl. If you asked her how to light a fire, she'd tell you about how one time she watched a movie and saw that the characters used their glasses and the sun. The first time Alina had made s'mores was when she was eleven years old and they weren't even from a fireplace. Those reasons (and other ones) had her friends shocked when she decided that they should go stay in a cabin in the woods. Of course, it wasn't real camping in tents and living outside but it was a start. 

Her friends James, Finn, Amber, and Kaylee were hesitant at first. They didn't know what to tell her. I mean they thought it was a good idea. But they had this sinking feeling that this trip was not going to go well. After a minor debate, they agreed. 

--The Day of the Trip--

Alina and Kaylee were currently waiting for Amber, James, and Finn to get to Alina's house. 

"So, you excited?" Alina asked. She was, and she wanted her friends to also be excited.

"Yeah, of course!" She was lying through her teeth. "I mean the five of us are going to have an amazing time and I think this trip is going to be a story worth retelling."

The pair got quiet. Although the silence did not last for long. James decided to burst through the door.

"Y'all ready!", he exclaimed, "Where are your bags?"

"Have you decided to finally be a gentleman?" Alina asked slightly amused. James had a grin on his face. 

"No! You women take too long to get ready and need strong men carry your bags."

Kaylee glared at him. He quickly grabbed her bags and started running. Kaylee chased after him. Finn glanced over to them and started laughing his head off. Alina gladly joined in.

"Need help with your bags?" Finn was gesturing towards her bags. Alina nodded grabbing her mini backpack and walking to the car. However, no one was in the car. Kaylee was still chasing James and Amber was recording the whole thing. Kaylee's bags were scattered all over the yard. 

"This is going to be fun." Alina smiled to herself, "Losers, get in the car. We're going camping!" She yelled as she was getting into the car. Eventually they all got in and started driving. 

-- 4 hours later --

Alina looked out the window excitedly. She couldn't stay still, jumping up and down in her seat with so much joy in her eyes as they passed all the giants with multicolored leaves. As soon as they got to the cabin she rushed into the cabin. Kaylee and Amber grabbed their things and walked inside. 

The boys had a different plan.

"Look at this place!" Alina only saw the beauty of the cabin. The beautiful fireplace and the paintings on the walls. She enjoyed looking at the stain glass window. However, Kaylee and Amber knew they already wanted to leave. The second they had even stepped foot into the cabin they felt chills. It was like the cabin was actual Hell and it had frozen over. 

Amber  Amber could have sworn that she saw the eyes of a painting move. She stared in shock. 

"Guys, did you-" There was knocking on the window. Kaylee walked over to the window until Amber yelped before she got dragged into the hallway. Finn was her captor in this scenario and he found it quite hilarious when she started struggling. Of course, she was still creeped out because there was a random knight standing over the both of them. Amber told him to shut up, but Finn was silently laughing. From the corner of her eyes, she could see James hiding in behind the couch. 

Alina and Kaylee were looking out to see if anyone was out there. James slowly tiptoed towards them. He yelled and they both jumped. Alina's first reaction was to punch him square in the jaw. Yeah this weekend was going to be full of surprises. Kaylee would normally be the one to do that but Alina had beat her to it. 

Kaylee was the one to rush to get him an ice pack. She had to look for Ziploc bags in the cabinets because there were no ice packs. The strange thing is that she could have sworn she left a cabinet open. But when she turned around it was closed. 'That's weird' she thought but she quickly turned her attention back to finding the Ziploc bags. But when she turned back to the sink and the Ziploc bags were right next to it. She didn't think anything weird was going on. She put some ice from the refrigerator in the bag and brought it to James. 

"Thanks." He grabbed the bag and glared at Alina.

"I've already apologized!" At this point, she was very annoyed. "And if you didn't pull the prank I wouldn't have punched you in the first place."

"Well, Finn and I were just trying to have some fun." 

"Pulling a horrible prank is your idea of fun?" 

"It wasn't horrible!" he looked very offended but Alina was sure he was just messing around. Alina stopped being so sure when he stormed off into the woods.

 Amber trailed after him. At first she tried just walking but then he started sprinting. 

"James!" She yelled. She started sprinting but the more she tried to reach him the farther he seemed to get. Amber looked around at the dark clouds and figured it was going to rain. She kept yelling for James to go back with her to the cabin but he wasn't in sight. She heard the leaves crunch behind her as she walked alone. She had the feeling something was behind her but she was scared to look. The crunching sounds got louder each step she took. That's when she started sprinting. 

Once she got to the house she rushed inside. No one was in the living room. She heard laughter come from the hallway. The same hallway where the knight was. She went to the door next to the knight. The door was cracked open just a little bit. She saw James and Alina talking in the corner. 

'Wait, since when did he get back? He was farther than me' Amber was confused. She could have sworn that she was closer to the cabin. What Amber didn't notice was the young girl around the age of eight. She had pigtail braids and was wearing a white night gown. But more on that later.

Amber decided to go to the kitchen. There she found Finn and Kaylee eating Halloween Oreos. She told them about how she went to chase after James but that somehow he managed to beat her back to the cabin.

"Amber, what are you talking about? James has been in his room since the fight," Kaylee said. 

Amber didn't know what to think. She definitely saw him outside. There was no way she chased a stranger that looked exactly like one of her best friends through the woods. Amber decided to take a nap. As she slept, she kept having the weirdest dream. Or it was better described as a nightmare. 

She saw a little girl around the age of eight. She had pigtail braids and was wearing a white night gown. 

"Are you hear to play with me?" The girl asked. She held out her porcelain doll for Amber to grab. Amber shook her head.

"Well, I think you should." the little girl asked with a matter-of-fact tone. She still held out the doll for Amber to grab. 

"What's your dolly's name?" she thought maybe the name of the doll would help her figure out why the doll was so important to the little girl.

"Alina." Amber's heart sunk into her stomach, "want to meet her friends?" 

Amber was scared but she agreed. The girl made three other dolls appear from midair. Until that moment she didn't realize that "Alina" looked just like the Alina she knew and loved. That was because those dolls looked exactly like Kaylee, James, and Finn. 

"AHHH!" Amber woke up with sweating. She noticed that it was the morning. She decided to head to the kitchen. All of them where there. Amber felt a sense of relief come over her.

The friends spent the whole day hanging out playing tag and hide and seek.  It was a blast. Heck, Amber had forgotten all about her dream. That was until night time.

The group was sitting around the fire with hot chocolate. That was when everything got upside down. At first it was just the storm outside. It seemed to come out of nowhere. But they chalked that back to the weather being crazy these days. Then the lights went out. Then all five of them heard a voice.

One... Don't try to hide

Two... There are surprises in store

Three... You thought this was going to be fun

Four... I'll show you fun

Five... Run.

The lights came on after those five seconds. They even saw a note. Just with the word "Run." on it. Amber started pulling Alina and Kaylee towards the door and spoke.

"We have to leave... NOW!"

The five rushed to the door. Amber opened it and ran out. She kept running. But when she looked back no one was behind her. She ran back to the cabin, but the door wouldn't budge. She tried calling 911. She had no service. Amber rushed to the main road to get service and called. She explained everything but the police didn't believe her. Amber decided to give up. She never spoke of that day again. She went to live a normal life.

She got married to a man who looked a lot like Finn. They had two children, a boy named James Finnley and Alina Kaylee. She was happy. Until the day she got an unexpected package. When she opened it, she screamed. Inside she saw four dolls two girls and two boys and she recognized them from everywhere and anywhere.

#scary #creepy #cabin #ghost #halloween #woods #forest #best friends #dolls #little girl #scary story #run #horror #thriller #haunted #fake creepypasta

[senatorrorgana]

A Simple Life

a/n: another fic done from the 1k giveaway I held! this fic is for @strong-bottle-of-jyn who was one of the runner ups of the giveaway. I hope all of you guys like this fic, I've still got a few more of these to do and then who knows, maybe I'll do a little giveaway again when we get closer to the last jedi!

rating: g

ao3: (x)

Jyn didn’t really know what a quiet life was like.

She had an idea of what one was supposed to be like from her brief time here on Lah’mu with her parents, before the Empire took them away from her, turning her life upside down. It was supposed to be filled with quiet nights together with the ones you love, and being able to sleep peacefully at night without worry. After that moment when the Empire took everything from her, Jyn thought something like this was nearly impossible to achieve ever again, and when Scarif came around, she thought she’d die before she ever got to experience a life like that. And by all accounts, according to the Rebellion, she and Cassian died before they ever had the chance to truly live.

But they didn’t.

Jyn didn’t remember much of how they got off of Scarif alive, it was a series of events that all happened in a moments notice that made Jyn question herself whether she truly made it out alive. All she remembered was Bodhi on their ship, coming up to her and Cassian as they left the tower on what they assumed would have been the elevator down to their certain death. She remembered bits and pieces of Baze helping Cassian aboard the ship, and seeing an injured Chirrut already on board. What she remembered the most was the silence aboard the ship, with everyone still in shock and injured and Kaytoo no longer there, things were almost eerily silent, and until Bodhi asked them where they were going, Jyn had almost managed to convince herself that maybe she was dead and this was all part of some final death dream.

Cassian was unconscious by then, Chirrut in and out of things while Baze watched over them both, Jyn was the most able-bodied out of them when Bodhi had asked and she guided him to the one safe place she could think of at the moment, a place that had once been home. Lah’mu had always been quiet and isolated, it was a good place for everyone to gather themselves, for Cassian and Chirrut to get their wounds tended to and realize that they had made it off of that beach alive. Days turned to weeks, everyone had started out staying in the abandoned Erso farm home before finding other places to stay until it came down to just Jyn and Cassian.

With every day that passed, she dreaded the day Cassian would demand to go back to the Rebellion, to rejoin the fight against the Empire and finish what he started - but he didn’t. Instead, he unnerved her with silence most of the time, he would stew on his own thoughts and wouldn’t speak a word for hours at a time, sometimes he would go a whole day without saying a thing - she wasn’t sure which was worse to deal with in all honesty. Then the day finally came where Cassian mentioned the Rebellion for the first time in weeks.

“I should go back.” Cassian murmured one day over breakfast.

Jyn stared at him silently, she’d been thinking about what to say back to him for so long, but now that the moment had finally come, it left her speechless for a moment.

“You can’t.” Jyn finally broke the silence. “You can’t go back there.”

“I have to,” Cassian said.

“No, I won’t let you.” Jyn insisted now. “They think you're dead anyway, they think we’re all dead, it’s better this way.”

“I can't just sit here while other people die-”

“To them, you're dead already!” Jyn snapped. “All you'll do is go out there and get yourself killed, actually killed this time. They won't care, they're fighting a war, no one has time to mourn or care who dies.”

“That doesn't matter, I-”

“It matters to me.” Jyn interrupted him again. “I don't want to lose you, they won't care, but I do.”

Everything was silent between them again, Cassian’s gaze was fixated on Jyn before he finally let out a sigh and a small nod.

“Okay.” Was all he said.

They didn't discuss the matter ever again after that day, and when the war was won, there was never a need for it to be spoken of.

Time seemed to move slower after Cassian heard the news of the Empire being defeated if felt as if the galaxy could breathe for the first time in years, including himself. He didn’t know what he was going to do with this second chance at life he had been given, thanks to his friends and Jyn, he never planned on living past the war. Cassian always thought he would die for the Rebellion, whether on a mission or out on the battlefield, he’d been fighting all his life - it seemed only fitting to die while fighting. Now he had the chance to do something he never thought was remotely possible - he had the chance to truly live before he ever had to die.

It had been two months since the news spread across the galaxy, he remembered Bodhi rushing over to his and Jyn’s home, shortly followed by Baze and Chirrut. They’d done their part for the Rebellion, and it was enough to finally turn the tides of the war and to bring it to an end. Cassian wasn’t the only one who thought they’d never see a life after the war; Jyn always thought she’d die fighting, Bodhi confessed he thought he’d get shot out of the sky, while Chirrut and Baze both imagined they would have died in some Empire attack on Jedha once they took all the Kyber and were done with the planet.

The world thought they were dead, and maybe now they were better off that way, living out a peaceful life on this quiet planet, far away from the mess that the Empire left behind while the Rebellion slowly rebuilt the galaxy. Peace didn’t call for assassins and spies, they didn’t have a place in the new world the Rebellion was trying to build either way.

And then something incredible happened.

“You...you’re pregnant?” Cassian asked.

Jyn nodded slowly, seeming not to entirely believe it herself.

It was bound to happen eventually, the way things had been going between them since they came to Lah’mu, but it was just another thing Cassian never thought he’d ever experience in his life. The chance to become a father, and for that child to have both parents in its life rather than being raised to be scared and alone as Jyn and Cassian had spent most of their childhoods. He didn’t know the first thing about being a father, he didn’t know if he’d end up being a good one or not, but all he could think about in that moment was how happy he was.

“You’re...okay with it?” Jyn asked curiously.

“Okay with it? I’m happy.” Cassian laughed slightly now, wrapping his arms around Jyn and pulling her close, trying to ignore the pain in his side that was still left over from his injuries and healing though it lessened every day.

“Really?” Jyn asked.

“It’s something I never thought I’d get to live and see,” Cassian admitted. “I’m glad that I am, and I’m glad that it’s with you.”

Without warning, Jyn got on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, pulling away with a small smile. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve something like this, but he wasn’t going to take it for granted. They finally had a chance to lead a normal life, one that could be happy on top of it all, filled with children and laughter and all the things they never thought they’d get to experience.

When Liana was born, it felt like the whole world stopped in the best way possible. Jyn never felt so much joy in her life as she did while holding her new little baby girl. She was so tiny, almost too tiny Jyn thought, but she came into the world kicking and screaming, full of a fight that made both her and Cassian grin. She was all they could have ever hoped for and all they could have ever dreamed of wanting. Holding her only made things more surreal for Jyn; she’d spent her whole life running and fighting, and now with Cassian and little Liana, she had the chance to sit still and live out a life she never thought possible.

As often as Jyn tried to keep Liana close to her at all times, she would often make sure Cassian and Liana had their time together. Waking up to an empty bed one morning wasn’t unusual for Jyn since Liana had been born. She found Cassian just a room over in what had become Liana’s room, sitting in a chair and humming an old Festian tune Jyn had heard him hum hundreds of times now since they’d been together, with little Liana fast asleep in his arms and a broad smile on his face.

“You know, she has to wake up at some point today, you can’t keep singing her to sleep,” Jyn smirked. “Everyone is coming over soon, either way, they’ll need to tire her out a bit for us.”

“I know,” Cassian replied. “She’s just...she gets to have this peace that none of us ever got the chance to have, it seems terrible to wake her up.”

“She’ll get plenty more sleep later,” Jyn assured him.

“I’ll give her a few more minutes.” Cassian bargained, holding Liana close while his eyes looked up at Jyn.

She remembered when there was always anger and sadness in his dark brown eyes, it briefly vanished on Scarif on what they thought was their final mission and final few moments alive. It came back while they were here on Lah’mu while Cassian was healing and they tried to hide from the Resistance. When the war was won and their lives moved on, it slowly came back, but she’d never seen him so happy and full of love than the moment Liana was born. Jyn never thought there would be a chance for a life for people like her and Cassian once the war was done. But now, she had never been happier to have been proven wrong, they had a chance to a new life, starting with raising the little baby girl they had brought into the world and letting her know she was surrounded by people who loved her unconditionally.

#rebelcaptain #strong-bottle-of-jyn #1k giveaway! #therebelcaptainnetwork #my writing #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor

[cecilspeaks]

Episode 102 - Love is a Shambling Thing

Look at it from the raindrop’s point of view. Welcome to Night Vale.

Yesterday, of course, was Valentine’s Day, our first in four years, after that last Valentine’s Day, which destroyed much of Night Vale and left many innocent victims buried under piles of rubble, and candy hearts. The city government built a large concrete dome over the Hallmarks store in the mini-mall downtown, thus keeping its dangerous sentiment from leaking into the outside world. Four employees of the store were unfortunately sealed inside, but there was just no time to remove them during the seven-month construction of the dome. It would have thrown everything off schedule. However, City Council has a renewed interest in love, since starting their on-again off-again romance with the Station Management here at Night Vale Community Radio. Currently their status is on, although they fight a lot, and their fights have caused considerable structural damage to the Arby’s and displaced a number of town citizens through time. So the Council wants to create a controlled, safe, Valentine’s celebration, in order to impress Station Management. Despite strong protests from the Night Vale citizens who do not believe there is any way to safely handle Valentine’s materials. City Council announced yesterday that Valentine’s was a celebration of love, and deemed that the official slogan of the day was “Love is”.

More on that in a moment, but first, some.. [clears throat] Listeners, I am sorry to have to report what I next have to report. Old Woman Josie, your friend and mine but more my friend than yours, I, be-beyond Carlos she is who I am closest with in this strange and friendly town of ours and she is… [sad, despondent voice] Well, she is under hospice care at her home. There is no upside to this story, other than on the broadest, most distant view of time. This is not a surprise, but even with a long time to prepare for the worst, we are still in shock. As though we stepped out onto a sunny street and found ourselves falling into a lake, just on the liquid side of frozen and that is maybe the best way of describing it? I feel cold, barely able to act. My words feel slow, my hands tremble. Only Josie seems not upset about her own condition, she lies on her bed surrounded by the beings who describe themselves as angels and the woman, Alondra, who describes herself as Josie’s daughter. Josie smiled and said, “What a joy that I have gotten to live so long. What a relief that I don’t have to live forever.”

Anyone wanting to visit Josie and say their goodbyes, um.. please dig a hole in your backyard or any public garden, whisper your wishes for Josie into it and the angels will hear you. I know it’s illegal to acknowledge to acknowledge the existence of angels but right now I don’t care. Please understand that Josie has limited strength and even more limited time and she may not be able to see you at all, I… [clears throat] Of course I will keep you updated. But the trajectory is certain. Only the timeline isn’t known. I suppose the same is true for every person, but we are always surprised at the literal truth of it every time, over and over.

And now listeners, the classified section. Lost: moths, all of them. Reward if found. Contact us by dialing numbers into your phone at random. If you were meant to reach us, you will. Notice: that veiled woman who sits motionless in the shadows of unlit parks at 3 AM gives really great relationship advice. Bring raw meat and never look directly at her. The schedule of events at the public library is up. It’s just your name, listed as an event once an hour, with the word “cancelled” next to each. Found: something that you will never notice is gone and that we will never return. You don’t even remember having it, but you did have it, once. Not anymore. The Night Vale Psychic and Medium Society would like to let you know the answers to all your future questions. These answers, in order: the porch light. Eight. Because we could. A distant star. Green. Also green. We’re sorry, but we have to. If you have any follow-up questions, then we won’t have done our job correctly. This has been the classifieds.

The City Council made careful preparations for a day of [sultry voice] love. They put up streamers around City Hall, and reserved a table at Tourniquet for a fancy dinner date with Station Management. The rest of us also made preparations for Valentine’s by stocking up on bottled water and canned goods, and discussing with loved ones where we would meet if we needed to evacuate. Several volunteer firefighters kept a brave watch for candy hearts, or teddy bears with anatomically correct glistening hearts stitched onto their bellies. The City Council revised their earlier slogan saying they had misspoken. Their slogan was not “Love is” but “Love is a shambling thing”. They nodded vehemently, whatever head-like protrusion the multi-body entity uses to nod and repeated, “Love is a shambling thing”, in a whisper before dissipating into the air like evaporating liquid.

Apparent leader of five-headed dragons, Hadassah McDaniels, has responded to the fatal shooting of one of her brother’s five heads with an understandable mix of grief, and rage, and fire-breath. She has staged a several week long protest outside of City Hall, in which she peacefully held up signs and peacefully ate, mauled, or burned anyone attempting to enter or exist the building. There has still been no sighting of word of Hiram since the shooting. We reached out to the five-headed dragons to see if they had any updates on that front, but they took our microphone from us and devoured it in a quick, twirling series of bites like it was a cob of corn. I did not get any follow-up to that, since I fled screaming before they could put me through the same treatment, but I will take this response as a sign that they also do not have news about Hiram. Hadassah has said that she seeks justice. Specifically, the justice she seeks is pain inflicted on Night Vale equal to or greater than the pain inflicted upon her own soul. She said, “You don���t understand the true nature of your splintered world. There are terrible forces surrounding you held together in a fragile truce. That truce will end, and with it, your town.” Then she saw Jeremy Godfrey emerge from City Hall, there to pay a small municipal fine for wearing unfashionable sweaters, and she set his hair on fire.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show has been brought to you by Sears. Sears would like you to know that they offer quality products at low prices. And also that there was a miscommunication and they thought this was a television station. They prepared a TV ad and aren’t sure what to do now. Um, I guess we’ll just describe what you would have seen, had you seen this commercial on TV. This is not the level of quality we want you to think of when you think of Sears, but here goes.

Exterior: a house. Snow drifts down onto yard already piled with snow. A warm glow on the snow, reflected light. We pan up. It is the light from the house’s windows. So cozy, so warm! Why would anyone ever want to leave and go to Sears? What kind of commercial is this? Wait, stick with us. Interior: living room. A woman looks out the window, bites her lip. “Bad weather,” she thinks. “I’m not going outside.” We don’t hear this as narration, the performer expresses this with her face, she’s a great actor. I wish you could have seen her, she doesn’t even talk in this commercial, all visual performance it’s, what a waste. So bad weather, she doesn’t want to go outside. She goes to the computer, loads up Amazon. It’s not Amazon, because we don’t want to advertise another company, but it’s like clearly Amazon, you know? We see her clicking on stuff, stuff she could be buying at Sears, but is instead buying on Amazon. 

Flash forward a day. She got next day shipping, I guess. Same house exterior, it’s still snowy, the snow is high, the pavement is icy. A mail truck pulls up. A mail carrier gets out. He has her package. We see her in the window, so happy about her decision to buy from Amazon. He starts up the drive to her, he slips on the ice. Her package goes flying. It says “fragile” in the package, so that’s probably ruined. He falls badly, fractures his leg in three places! We don’t know this just by looking at it, but the filming of the stunt didn’t go like it was supposed to, so I can tell you: fractured in three places. Horror on her face. She does a great job acting this scene, I really wish you could have seen it.

We’re now in a court room. She’s being sued! The jury looks stern. She’s going to love. All of her savings will go to the mail carrier, but he isn’t happy either. He is in incredible daily pain, and what is money going to do to fix that? No one. Is. Happy. We fade out on the two of them at their separate tables in court, both facing a future that is diminished, that is diminishing. Next time, get in your car and go to Sears. This has been a message from your sponsor.

Back to our Valentine’s report. How was it? Honestly, uneventful. Casualties were limited to a few neighborhoods, and only two out of three gas mains exploded. Most of the town isn’t completely burning, only a little scorched. As far as Valentine’s goes, it was a huge success. The date between City Council and Station Management also went well, as far as we can tell. Tourniquet’s entire building was enveloped in a thick fog that pulsed a strange blue, and there was the reverberant harmony of a children’s choir. When the fog lifted, every human customer in the restaurant had vanished and were replaced by figures shrouded in white cloth, slowly twirling in place. City Council and Station Management were.. intertwining their.. torso appendages and.. cooing. Ugh.

Oh, it does seem I got the slogan for yesterday wrong again. It was actually “Love is a shambling thing, grey-faced and gasping.” Ah, that’s pretty good branding. It’s very romantic. Wait, what was that? Oh, I’m being told that that’s still wrong. OK, hold on, let me figure this out. And in the meantime, let’s get to that weather.

[“Listening to TPM” by Brook Pridemore.]

“Love is a shambling thing, gray-faced and gasping. It moves in from the west, the setting sun behind it. Those who see it avert their eyes. Love stumbles and shutters, love grasps but is not grasped. It sees a man, and the man does not look away. Love reaches out a gray hand. The man touches the band just lightly, just on the palm, and the man feels heat inside of him. His heart is on fire. This is not a metaphor. His heart is on fire and so, soon, is his skin, his hair, his teeth become more and more visible as his face shrinks and melts away. Love watches dispassionately. Love does not love what it does, love only does it. Love does not have eyes and neither, now, does the man.

Love is a shambling thing. It climbs through a window into an infant’s bedroom. When one of the mothers comes in to check on her baby son, there is love too in the crib, curled up inside him. Love murmurs, and the baby spits restlessly. The baby does not burn, the baby will eventually burn, but by then he will not be a baby. The woman looks down at the ghastly form of love curled up beside her son and she thinks, “What have I done?” She cries, not because she is happy or sad, but because that is what her body needs to do next. Love rises from the crib and passes her without a glance. Love is a shambling thing. It shambles out of her home. [very unsettling music] Love, with skin that peels and pops and joints that moan and snap, climbs to the top of a tall building and surveys its surroundings. So many people. It opens its mouth. Its teeth are the only part of its body that look new and healthy. It has so many teeth! It yelps and howls, an inarticulate sermon of lost and loss, and everyone hears it. They hear it as a shudder in their stomach and hitch in their step. Love does not eat or drink, love separates its many teeth and consumes.

Love is a shambling thing, grey-faced and gasping. It moves out to the east, the night drawling closed behind it. Those who see it avert their eyes.”

So that’s the final version of the City Council’s slogan for Valentine’s Day. It’s.. um.. It’s catchy? They also sent over their current draft for a Night Vale Valentine’s Day logo design. It’s not really a logo per se, it’s an actual physical rusty bear trap, hidden in a set position below a pile of loose tissue paper in an undisclosed truck stop restroom. And I like it. Again, great branding. It’s very eye-catching, depending on how you look at it.

We seem to have all made it through this Valentine’s Day, except those of us who didn’t, but any given day there are those of us who did not make it. Every day is a new opportunity for danger. Every day is another day survived. Every survival, another chance.. for love.

From one who loves to all of you out therew ho love, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Live every day like it’s your first.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 102 #love is a shambling thing