#bones and skeletons are beautiful I can’t help it

[reliquaryofflesh]

My horny ass could not be trusted around an anatomical model of a human skeleton 😭

[mywritersmind]

LITTLE BLACK DRESS - LN4

halloween special

summary : loosely based on little black dress by 1D😊 happy halloween my horny bffs

listen up : kissing, yelling… him being horny. lando x fewtrell!reader

word count : 1655

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She's always been beautiful. She’s the sort of pretty that when she walks into the room, everyone’s head turns toward her.

Today though… shit. She looks straight up sexy.

Max punches me in the arm, realizing I'm not paying attention to whatever he’s saying. But I can’t stop looking at her, long legs and a tiny black dress is all I can see.

As she gets closer, her hair bouncing with every step, I realize that it’s the type of hunger that will only be satisfied by my lips on hers.

There is one slight issue, though. “Sis!” Max grins, messing up her hair as she pushes him away, “Nice costume. You get it half off?”

⋆༺

you

“You're so turning into our dad!” I roll my eyes at Max as he laughs and whips his arm around me, pulling me into a forgiving half hug. He's the mad hatter, cute since I saw Pierta in her Alice costume a few minutes ago.

I scrunch my face up before looking up at Lando. God… Lando. His eyes are practically setting me on fire, looking up and down my body. He's a skeleton.

Looking ridiculous hot in all black, his costume is made by the makeup on his face. An illusion of bones with black and white.

“Hi, Lando. Happy Halloween” I say sweetly as he brings his cup to his painted lips.

“Lookin good, Y/n.” He gives me a slight smirk and I can feel Max’s annoyance before he starts complaining.

“Lando. No!” Max says as if he’s some sort of dog.

“I didn’t do anything!” He puts his hands up in defense before looking at me, “Want a drink?” I flash him a smile, fangs and all. He raises a brow at my favorite bit of my costume.

A vampire is not basic, It’s classic!

“She wants nothing from your grubby hands!” Max says immediately, his mad hatter hat tilting on his curls.

“Grubby!?” Lando scoffs as I laugh, but I see my friend in the crowd and squeal, leaving them both.

⋆༺

lando

How weird would it be if I said I want her to bite me? Fuck, it sounds weird doesn’t it? I don’t care. She’s been dancing with P for the past thirty minutes, downing at least two drinks and moving her ass in a way that should be illegal.

There’s fake blood on her chest and mouth. A mouth I'm desperate to kiss.

I’ve known her forever, and I would never admit it to Max… but I've always had a bit of a thing for her. How do you tell your protective best friend that you’re hot for his younger sister?

The answer is that you don’t.

But this feels different. We’re older, we’re both hotter, and I swear I saw her checking me out.

Max has disappeared and there’s a girl by my side in an instant. I take one look at her, get disappointed that she’s not Y/n, and leave.

I spot her at the bar.

I tug on her hair and she lets out a little scream before she turns and sees me. Her mouth contorts into a mischievous smirk, her nose scrunching. “Two vodka shots.” I nod at the bartender, standing close to her. “I like your costume.”

She looks bored, “Think I look hot?” When she turns to get my reaction I just tilt my head a bit, biting back a smile. She knows I do.

“Well I think yours is a bit underwhelming.” She sighs as I scoff.

“Hey- P spent an hour on this!” she giggles, “What would you rather me be?”

She thinks for a moment as the bartender slides us the shots, “Hmm… a driver?” Her body shifts towards me, holding up the vodka and smiling innocently.

“Very funny.” I take my own shot, tapping the table and downing it without breaking eye contact.

“You here alone?”

She leans against the bar, “Nope… my friends are here somewhere.” She breaks eye contact, surveying the packed crowd.

I lean in closer, “I mean did you come here with a guy?”

She narrows her eyes at me, “No.”

I can’t help but smile, teasing her is my favorite activity. “You open to leaving with one?”

She blinks, biting her bottom lip, “Lando…” I know i’m playing with fire but I don’t care.

“What?” I say innocently, “For safety reasons.”

She lets out a little laugh, “I’m not fucking you in the name of safety.” I frown.

“You’re losing your little flirty spark, Fewtrell.” I lean closer, my arm resting on the bar, “You grow up, finally?”

“I grew up.” She nods, “But I'll never lose my spark.” She looks offended, my eyes flick down to her body… her chest… her lips.

“Prove it.” Her hand goes to her hip.

“You gonna flirt with me all night or actually make a move?” Spark is still there. 1000% still there because the way she’s leaning into me makes me hard.

I glance at the people drinking and dancing, seeing Max instantly in his hideous hat. He's not looking at us, but I know he’s gotten a vibe tonight when I was staring at Y/n’s ass.

“You really want me to make a move in front of your brother?” I ask her and I can tell she’s torn.

Y/n has always been close to Max, but she was always known to be troublesome. I liked her more for it. She would sneak guys in when their parents were away and Max would always call me, purposefully being loud about how much he could bench to scare the guy away.

“Let’s dance.” My hand slips to her waist, tugging her closer. She gives me another suspicious look, “Come on… I wanna see the way you move for me.”

She rolls her eyes, “Take you and your one liners somewhere else.” She starts walking away, but I follow.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” I take her hand finally, tugging her into the crowd and pulling her close to me.

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on it.” I bite the inside of my cheek as her hand moves to my neck and into my hair.

“You’re so fucking hot.” I should probably think twice about telling this to my best friend's sister, but why lie?

She throws her head back, laughing. She shakes her head and keeps dancing. The neon lights swirl around us as people push and scream over the music. I can practically feel the djs mix in my body.

Y/n’s hand goes to the back of my head again, standing on her toes to yell in my ear. “I don’t want to smudge your makeup.” I think I'm about to faint.

I shake my head, making her look at me in the eye to make sure she’s serious. She’s staring up at me, a brow quirked as if she’s daring me.

My lips are on hers embarrassingly fast.

Gripping her waist, I slip my tongue in her mouth. The fake fangs scrape against me but I'm too focused on her so close to me to care.

⋆༺

you

I've spent an unhealthy amount of time wondering what it would be like to kiss Lando. Now I know that my younger self was completely wrong.

He’s possessive and rough, holding me close and sliding his hand up my body, to my neck. He tastes like makeup and alcohol, my hands holding his neck and tugging at his shirt.

It’s too loud for him to hear me say his name. He bites my lip and I let out an involuntary whine. He's smirking against me when I tug his shirt, pulling back.

I smile at him, catching my breath for a second just to make sure this is real. “I love this song.” It's ‘little black dress’ by one direction. The song that I played every day of my teenage years whenever Max and Lando were bugging me.

I laugh, leaning back as he rests his head on my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my skin. I turn his head to face me again, kissing him softly. “Maybe I'd be okay with going home to a guy.” I say in his ear.

“You better be talking about me.” His face is serious but I can’t help but laugh, slapping his arm before kissing him again.

“Of course it’s you, muppet.” I’m kissing him again. I get lost in a haze of smoke and music, melting into him as he breathes against me.

He’s kissing my neck now, moving his hand down past my back. Then he’s gone.

He’s off me in a second, “What. The. Fuck!?” It’s Max. “No! No! No!” He looks like he’s about to kill Lando.

“Hey…” I think Max it’s going to be okay until a smirk breaks out on Lando’s stupid face. “What if I told you I'm really drunk?”

Max’s fists clench, “Lando-” He turns to me, looking pissed off, “I can’t even with you!”

I push my hair back, shrugging and wiping my mouth. I look at Lando who’s about to laugh, his mouth is smudged with blood, black paint, lipstick.

“My sister!?” He yells, getting the attention of few around us.

“I- Okay look! I didn’t. I mean! Yeah… She’s hot!” he goes through options, clearing giving up as he looks at me. Max loses it then, “Yup!” Lando turns and fucking bolts.

Max is screaming and i’m laughing, it’s almost too comedic. The crowd basically parts as Lando hurries past, my brother chasing after his best friend.

When they’re about to be out of view, Lando turns, “Yo, Vamp!” He calls out, running backwards with a scared and mischievous expression on his face. He brings a hand to his head, mimicking a phone before breaking out into a grin, “Call me!”

[dear-aubade]

Hello, i really like everything you write about Joel, i am so in love with him😭💕

-

What if reader has been having some insecurities lately and Joel fcks her in front of a mirror, worshipping her and telling her how beautiful she is🎀💖

Here you go anon, hope you like it!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You start pulling away from Joel because you’re having doubts about yourself. Joel decides to do something about it.

Notes: smut, p in v, Joel pulls out, praise, body worship, reader has body dysmorphia, reader has insecurities, soft!Joel, dom!Joel, sub!reader, mirror sex

A/n: Yes, I put a Pride and Prejudice reference in there (iykyk 😘)

“Give yourself a compliment.”

The past few weeks, you had been having some…doubts, to say the least. Before, it had been just you and Joel fending for yourselves out in the woods, traveling West. Just you and Joel against the world.

Then you found Jackson.

Oh, what a haven it was. Even if Joel’s brother hadn’t been here, even if you knew nobody in town, you still would have convinced Joel to stay. They had hot water, heating, and goddamn coffee of all things? Yeah. You guys were sticking around.

Not only were you able to shower once a day, but your diet had also changed drastically. Instead of only eating a couple sticks of jerky and some crackers for dinner each day, you had the luxury of consuming steamed broccoli, roast pork, and such excellent boiled potatoes—it had been many years since you’d had such an exemplary vegetable. Now you always went to bed with a full belly.

The diet change was reflected in the way you looked. You could no longer see your ribs through your skin, and your thigh gap was gone. Your eyes looked less sunken, your cheekbones less protruding. Your hips were a little rounder, your tummy a little softer. And you knew that it was a good thing, that it meant you were getting over the malnourishment and becoming healthy again, that you were at a perfectly normal weight for your height—you knew that.

But a small part of your brain whispered otherwise. It didn’t matter if it was healthy or not, it didn’t matter if you had looked like a walking skeleton before, you were getting bigger. You started to wonder if it was getting harder for Joel to lift you during your activities in the bedroom. You started to wonder if he didn’t know what to do with each pound you gained, if he preferred you when you were smaller and lighter, even if you had only been skin and bones.

And so you started to pull away.

You still pleasured Joel, of course. You’d wake him up with your mouth on him, or kiss him while grinding on his bulge. But each time he tried to pull at your clothes to return the favor you’d shake your head and give him some lame excuse like I’m tired, or I promised Maria I’d go help her organize the inventory lists.

Eventually Joel had had enough. He sat you down and kept pushing and pushing, trying to know what was the matter. And oh…his callused hands cupping your face had been so gentle. His eyes had been so soft. You had confessed everything then and there through your tears.

Which brought you to now.

You were in the bathroom in just your bra and panties with Joel standing behind you, one hand gently lingering on the small of your back as you both faced the mirror.

“Give yourself a compliment,” Joel repeated.

Your brow creased and you shook your head. “I can’t,” you whispered.

Joel met your gaze in the mirror. “Come on, sweetheart. You—”

You shook your head again, tears blooming in your eyes.

Joel stood there for a few moments, his hand still stroking over the small of your back. Soon he spoke. “Well, I’ll start, then,” he said, his voice tender. “That alright with you, darlin’?”

He didn’t give you time to reply. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed an achingly soft kiss to the back of it. “I love your hands,” he whispered. “Look at ‘em—so small, so soft. I like it when you use ‘em to run through my hair, or when I hold your hand as we walk through town.”

He moved his hand up to gently hold your chin. “And your face—my gorgeous girl. And those eyes… I love when you let me hold your cheek as I kiss those soft lips…”

Joel kissed the sensitive patch of skin beneath your jaw and your breath hitched. You could feel his smile against you as he moved down, kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His hands went to your hips and squeezed.

You hesitated, doubt filling you. “Joel—”

“Ah, I’m not done yet.” He kneaded at the softness on your hips and thighs. “Oh…I love this piece of you, honey…grabbin’ onto these hips every time I wanna tell everyone you’re mine, or when I’m drivin’ into you in the bedroom.”

Your breath caught at that, cheeks flushing the same color as the strawberries that Maria was starting to grow for the town.

Joel chuckled and before you knew it your bra was unhooked and tossed across the room, but that didn’t matter because the moment it was gone Joel’s hands were there. You gasped again as he started to gently squeeze, thumbs flicking over the peaks.

“And these,” he went on, voice dropping lower. “You’re so soft, babygirl, ‘specially these pretty tits. Just wanna kiss ‘em and bite ‘em all day every day.” He pinched one of your nipples and you whimpered. You could feel his bulge pressing into you from behind.

One of his hands stayed working on your breast as the other flattened and smoothed down the front of your torso. “And this pretty tummy…makes me so happy to see you like this, baby. Full of food every night. It means I’m doin’ my job providin’ for you.”

Joel’s relentless touching was really getting to you. You were damp between your legs by now surely.

“And here…” Joel slid his hand past the waistband of your panties and you whimpered as his fingers stroked along your wetness. He let out a breath that was nearly a groan. “I love feelin’ you here, sweetheart. Feelin’ you clench around me as you finish, gettin’ that hazy look in your eyes…”

He pushed two fingers into you and you whined, arching your back against him. “Joel—”

“Shh,” he whispered. He mouthed at your neck and curled his fingers to stroke along your front wall. “Look at you, darlin’.” When you were nice and ready, he retracted his fingers. You whimpered at the loss, but it soon turned into a gasp as he unzipped his pants and pushed his length into you.

You let out a soft moan and closed your eyes at the feeling. Oh…he was so big, so—

He nipped at your neck and your eyes flicked open with a gasp. “Eyes on yourself, pretty girl. Want you to see how gorgeous you are takin’ me.”

At that, hesitation won over arousal for a split second. “Joel, I don’t…”

He kissed the part of your neck he bit, his affection so tender it made your heart swell. “You trust me?”

You nodded.

“You can do this, baby. Watch. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You bit your lip, then nodded again.

Joel grinned. “Good girl,” he cooed. “Put your hands on the counter.”

You did as he asked. The white porcelain was cold against your palms, but one of Joel’s big hands came to rest atop one of yours. The other grabbed your hip.

Then he started to move.

You let out a moan as he dragged along your walls. It had been so long since you both had done this and he was filling you so well, making it hard to breath, hard to see, hard to think…

“Eyes open, baby.”

They had closed in your feeling of ecstasy and you hastily snapped them open. Sex with Joel was always erotic, but actually watching it happen in the mirror like this…

He reached down to thumb at your clit and you let out a soft whine. Joel chuckled. “Needy girl,” he murmured. He let out a groan into your neck. “So warm, darlin’.”

Joel thrust into you deeper and put a hand on your stomach. “Another thing I love,” he whispered, “is when I make it so you can feel me all the way up in this pretty tummy.”

You mewled at that. There was a white-hot fire in your lower belly and it ached and you didn’t know if you wanted the fans flamed or extinguished or—

“Look how pretty my babygirl looks when she’s takin’ me,” Joel murmured.

Your eyes were half-lidded in the mirror, breasts moving with every thrust up into you. There was a flush around your cheekbones and nose and your lips were softly parted as Joel took you.

“Mmm.”

“Oh?” Joel kept rubbing circles into your clit as your hips squirmed. “Was that an agreement, sweet girl?”

You hesitated. Your mind was too blissed out to think clearly. “I—“

“Does my pretty baby see how I see her now?” A particularly well-placed thrust from Joel had you keening. “How beautiful she is?”

You whined and rocked back against him. Something was building inside you, a tight coil right between your legs, and it was too hot, too hot, and you…you needed…

“Fall apart for me, sweetheart,” Joel breathed.

You did. You let out a high-pitched moan and your walls clenched around Joel’s length, causing him to grunt. Your head swam. Your vision fuzzed. You barely even registered Joel pulling out and his spend landing on the back of your thigh.

Your legs shook and you let out a pathetic whine. Joel was quick to scoop you into his arms. “I gotcha, babygirl,” he whispered, kissing your cheek as he carried you to the bedroom. “Gotta lay on your tummy so I can clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded and let him place you on the bed face down. Your entire body felt like it was melting.

Joel left for the bathroom and soon returned with a warm washcloth to gently wipe between your legs and at his spend on the back of your thigh. When he was done he took you into his arms.

Chest to chest, he smiled down at you and pushed hair back from your face. “Hi pretty girl.”

You smiled back. “Hi,” you whispered.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone for a moment. “I know your feelings about yourself aren’t going to disappear overnight and that’s okay, but…you think you can give yourself a compliment now?”

You blushed, then nodded. “I like it when you make my cheeks flush.” Your voice was small, shy.

“Yeah?” Joel’s eyes sparkled. “How come?”

“Because I think I…” You swallowed. “I think I look pretty like that.”

Joel grinned. “Yes you do, baby.” He held you close. “Yes…you most definitely do.”

[moeitsu]

I might just be talking out of my ass. But something that’s been lingering on my mind lately is the aftermath of Arthur’s death on that cliffside. Specifically, how long Arthur’s body may have remained there before Charles found him—if he even found him at all.

I see a lot of fanart and fiction often depicting Charles finding Arthur’s body within hours or days of his passing, and giving him a proper burial. But when I was revisiting the later chapters of the game, I was reminded that Charles left the gang to help the Wapiti tribe. He had no way of knowing exactly when or how Arthur’s end would come, only that the gang’s days, and Arthur’s, were numbered.

Realistically, Charles may not have stumbled upon Arthur’s remains for weeks, maybe even months. By then, time and nature would have taken their toll. Left exposed to the elements, scavengers would likely have picked Arthur’s body clean, leaving behind only bones. Rain, wind, and sunlight would have further eroded what was left, leaving a weathered skeleton, possibly unrecognizable as the man Charles once knew.

The game itself offers a glimpse of what a decayed body looks like in its world. Arthur occasionally stumbles upon long-abandoned homesteads or corpses, their identities erased by time, with only bones and scraps of skin or hair remaining.

Imagining Charles finding Arthur in such a state is heartbreaking. I can’t help but picture the overwhelming guilt he’d feel, seeing his friend reduced to a pile of remains, knowing Arthur had died alone and was left without a proper burial.

At this stage of decomposition, Arthur’s body would have already begun to return to the earth. The natural process of decay means that as soft tissues break down, they nourish the surrounding environment. Fungi and bacteria consume what remains, transforming flesh into nutrients for plants and animals. Perhaps, by the time Charles arrived, Arthur’s body was already entwined with the landscape—grass and wildflowers sprouting where his blood had soaked into the soil.

It’s a grim yet oddly beautiful image. Arthur Morgan, a man who spent so much of his life trying to redeem himself and do right by others, becoming part of the natural world he loved dearly. A man who gave everything he had to the people he saw as family. Always giving, giving, giving. Until there is absolutely nothing left but his body, and yet he gives that to the Earth too.

I imagine Charles, determined to honor his friend, carefully gathering what remained—bone fragments, perhaps even a few lock of Arthur’s hair and bits of clothing. Wrestling with the forces of nature to reclaim his friend from the earth. Despite the difficulty, Charles would have ensured Arthur’s remains were laid to rest properly, in a place where the flowers could bloom in his memory, and the earth could cradle him in peace.

Call me morbid, but there’s something hauntingly beautiful about this idea: that Arthur, a man shaped by the rugged wilderness, would ultimately be reclaimed by it. His story, his legacy, and even his physical form returning to the land he roamed freely.

Don’t even get me started on his reincarnation as a Buck.

[comfortless]

what if König does see his knight being more ladylike? or maybe even in a dress? sorry they’re just so cute i love this au lol

you are never getting her into a gown… not ever.

except at a special event (:..?

There’s a summons for König and the lady knight to attend a ball. At the castle, no less. The sheet of parchment dents weighty in her hand as she tugs it free from the message board at the center of town— a list of names, hers and König’s included; quite high, too, above even dukes and duchesses from foreign kingdoms and a wonderful knight who had braved an attempted siege and won the King victory.

It makes no sense… they’re essentially hired thieves, roaming through caverns of filth filled with the dead, stealing what’s never been their own and never will belong to them for profit. There’s no honor in their work, despite the way she puffs her chest in pride and so often declares that one of these expeditions will earn her a seat at the royal table.

Still… they had retrieved that object for the Queen, and it seemed the materialistic royalty deemed that well and good enough to consider them worthy.

König is unperturbed— he’s never been one for these formal affairs, dressing up in a tight fitting suit of ruffled fabric, chest adorned with a shimmering brooch and his blade kept tucked away far out of reach. His knight on the other hand… Her face is practically glowing, he’s never seen her smile so wide or so sweetly.

Of course… she doesn’t have some silky gown to her name, only cold steel and endless straps… not even a proper corset. König can’t help but notice her pout when they begin to prepare. Though he thinks she’s pretty, perfect even as battle-worn she is, it’s clear she wants to be more so as she stares longingly out of the window of the inn at all of the beautiful ladies riding on horseback to approach the castle gates, their gowns each as intricate and immaculate as the braids and curls and lengths of their hair.

He doesn’t get it- he’ll just go in his normal clothes, but like any proper suitor would do… he buys her a gown from the tailor a few buildings past the inn. The most expensive one he can get his paws on with the hoard of gold they collected from their last adventure. (Who knew slaying a few reanimated skeletons to give a cursed femur and jaw bone to an old witch could count as a job?!)

The dress is certainly… tailored to his preferences: it’s a lacy thing, dyed a shimmering bluish gray, creamy lace trims along the cuffs and hems, the collar dipping down into a ‘v’ to properly frame her tits. He didn’t expect it to be any lovelier than what his imagination supplies when she does put it on, and yet he finds himself utterly stifled by the sight.

He’s seen her nude, pawed at and groped her hundreds of times, but as she stands before him shyly lifting the dress at her hips and glancing at the wall, the floor, anywhere except from directly at him… his pulse begins to race. Of course, he picks her up and buries his face against her neck, whispering about how pretty she is, how much he adores every new side of her, and promptly ruins it by detailing how he would like to tug her laces loose with his teeth later in the evening after the dancing is all over. She shoves him away, hissing like a startled kitten but he’s certain she casts him a little smirk the moment that he does relax his grip.

The ball is no less extravagant than she had expected. Food and luxury wine adorn every table: cheeses, fresh baked bread, smoked meats and pies, fruit of many kinds, and the wine all sweet and bitter and so very unlike the thick mead that burns as it goes down that they’re accustomed to. The dresses, the elaborate dances, the beautiful sounds of music feathering through the air- all of it. She even gets to drink from a goblet made of silver, and her eyes light up when a servant fills it to the brim.

König despises it all.

He tucks himself away, flooding himself with food and the few gilded pitchers of actual ale he’s managed to threaten a servant into retrieving. He notices the eyes on her always, as she dances with the other ladies and smiles adoringly over at him each time their eyes meet. Her grace translates well here from battle, each step taken with some extracted precision that she’s learned from flailing her blade around in the darkness… her partners giggle against her ear as they curl their arms around her, many adrift to either side waiting for a turn.

It’s only when a man does approach his lady knight that König’s had enough. She’s tipsy and far too cute, stands out like pure treasure amongst this adoring flock, and the bastard’s eyes are on her breasts when he asks her to dance. The other man is yanked back by his scruff and tossed to the marble floor, eliciting startled gasps and even… some sweet sighs from the women surrounding as they fawn over how romantic it must be that a brute like him wouldn’t allow another man near her.

His knight only smiles at him when he leads her away, out of the grand hall and down the corridors of the castle until they find themselves before a window that seems to overlook the entire kingdom. The music still plays, the voices still chatter, but they’re all muffled and subdued someplace far away… and König only feels the world seem to come to a grinding halt when she asks him to dance with her here.

He doesn’t have the same tact or skill as the others when he moves: swaying her in a grip like iron ‘round her waist, dipping with her when her back arcs that almost leaves his face flush with her chest. It’s clumsy at best, far less flowery and sweet than when she danced with the other women, but he tries his best to not entirely ruin her night— unaware that she’s far too drunken and giddy to care. She wouldn’t have batted an eye if he had snapped that man’s neck, if only he rewarded her patience with a dance like this.

They meld together, a perfect fit when she stands on his boots and drapes her arms around his neck to press her chin to his chest. The frolic comes to a quiet end as they whisper back and forth about what happens next, after tonight. When the sun rises and they’re back on their feet… He swears to her that they’ll buy a horse, subtly hints that the offer to settle will always be present and she only shushes him with a kiss, one that she laughs into as she tastes the ale on his tongue.

Those strings are, in fact, loosened by his teeth as she lies on their shared bed with him later into the evening. He traces every dip and curve of her body through the silk as he works away at relieving her of the gown, then the corset with slow, precise movements and tugs. She laughs again when he hisses praises from behind her, licks and nibbles a hot path along her skin, rests his head against the smooth flesh of her back when the corset finally lays to either side of her.

His fingertips graze from the back of her neck, to her shoulder, further along the middle of her back before he stops himself. Despite the near constant ache, this isn’t how or where he wants this done: in some rundown inn outside of the castle, her veins flooded with red wine. Instead, he only pulls her close in a cuddle, massages at her tits as she thanks him for accompanying her, for dancing with her despite his gait being more like a newborn foal than a proper stallion.

And when the moon finally reaches a peak in the night sky, her breathing slow and soft while she rests her head against his chest, he kisses the top of her head and pulls her in closer. Tells her that he likes either side of her, knight or lady it mattered not, so long as she remains at his side like this.

She nods to her own damnation, contentedly swearing her oath to him with one word, “Forever.” It comes in a soft murmur, eyelids already fluttering as he squishes her closer against him.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! Saw that your requests are open :]

Could you write a scenario where Gwen, miles n pav are looking for Hobie in his universe for whatever reason, just for them to find him and his s/o taking a nap together on a rooftop together 🥺?

I just kinda wanna see hobie/y/n in the perspective of other characters <3

Thanks in advance ❤️❤️❤️!!!

‘Hobie’s not picking up.’ Pavitr said.

‘Neither is y/n.’ Gwen replied, pocketing her phone after the third failed phone call.

‘Hobie’s phone is probably dead, he let’s that thing drain to it’s last percentage and y/n is probably busy on a mission.’ Miles tried to justify as he, Pav and Gwen walked through the streets of Hobie’s dimension in search of their friend to hang out but the longer the trio went without seeing Hobie -or you for that matter- in places they believed he’d be; the last place being the pub he frequents where Hobie’s band mates informed them that they haven’t seen him in a while, the more worried they’d become for his well being despite not needing too, but still he’s their friend and friends worry about one another; no matter how capable they are.

‘Have you tried his place?’ One of his mates tells them, ‘can’t hurt if you haven’t.’ They added, raising the pint glass to their lips as they downed the rest of their drink in a couple of gulps. ‘We have, he wasn’t there.’ Miles said and they put their glass back down on the table, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand, shrugging their shoulders. ‘You know how Hobie is with his dislike for consistency and all that. But if I were to guess where he is -if he’s even there at all by the time you lot get there- it’ll probably be up on the rooftop of that half arsed complex they’ve left to rot.’

‘Where would we-‘ ‘I think I know where that is,’ Gwen cuts in, remembering her time spent here and the places she’s been due to Hobie helping her get her bearings of the place, one in particular having stuck out more so then the others. ‘Thanks for the help.’ She tells them right before looking to Pavitr and Miles, jutting her head towards the exit of the pub. ‘Come on, if I’m right, he shouldn’t be too far from here.’ She tells them as she, Pav and Miles left the pub and began making leeway to their next destination.

‘They’ve been here the whole time!’ Miles exclaimed upon seeing you and Hobie fast asleep with you practically cuddled into Hobie’s side, your face buried within the crook of his neck as your hands clung to his waist while one of Hobie’s hands were at your waist, keeping you anchored to his side as his other hand was holding onto your forearm that rested comfortably across his hip bone; Both of you looked at peace within the others presence, it was a sweet sight to behold for the trio that it made the goose chase all the more worth it’s frustrations.

‘You’ll wake them!’ Pavitr shushed Miles but he couldn’t care less when he saw what was in his friend’s hand, his brows immediately raising. ‘Pav, are you taking pictures of them asleep?’ Gwen piped up, also having caught on.

‘You expect me not to? Look at them!’ Pavitr was the one to exclaim this time as he gestures to yours and Hobie’s still slumbering intertwined figures. ‘They’re love incarnate, the beautiful vulnerability brought forth by their comfortability with one another,’ he sighs longingly as he snaps another picture of you two, ‘to have a relationship where your soul feels at ease with that person, to have all your walls come down when you’re with them to the point you are able to hear the song of their heart, soothing you into a slumber filled naught with dreams but memories.’

‘So kinda like the male and female skeletons that were found romantically embracing one another.’ Miles said. ‘I guess I can see the comparison.’ Gwen piped in as she looked closely at you and Hobie, her eyes immediately noting some movement in Hobie’s hand as it subconsciously intertwined itself with yours and giving it a squeeze, almost like he was making sure you were still with him. So it made Gwen smile when she saw you reciprocate the squeeze with one of your own; It was so obvious that the relationship you and Hobie had was one of love, respect, loyalty and above all else trust.

It’s a relationship anyone would die to have but it takes a special person to have that type of relationship and Gwen couldn’t be happier that you and Hobie found each other. You two were the missing pieces that you’ve been searching for so long, Gwen couldn’t imagine the imminent relief you must’ve felt whenever you and Hobie held hands knowing that you were finally where you were meant to be, to be able to see clearly, to be able to breath; Gwen might not be a hopeless romantic like Pavitr is but she couldn’t help but want a relationship like yours and Hobie’s one day because that’s the day when she knows she’s found her person.

Miles took note of how Gwen looked longingly at you and Hobie and wondered if she thought the same as he did, to have what you and Hobie had, to find his person whom he can spend every waking moment with and still feel how he felt when first meeting them; in adoration and awe, to have someone whom he can be unapologetically himself and hope that they feel the same with him, to be able to fall sleep on a rooftop somewhere without fearing all the possibilities that could happen in your moment of vulnerability.

Miles deeply wished to have the kind of love his parents have, the kind that you and Hobie have for it was, in Pavitr’s words, a love that transcends the need for words, for words weren’t enough to convey how you felt compared to the intimate act of soul searching within each others eyes.

‘We should leave them be for now.’ Gwen said softly to Pavitr and Miles whom had no qualms in agreeing to leaving you and Hobie alone, though not without admiring both of you one last time, just as you nuzzled yourself deeper into Hobie’s neck and Hobie’s little smile before they all headed back to hq.

[queenmuzz]

Five Stages of Grief: Chapter V

Acceptance

Read it HERE on Ao3

He splashes some water on his face and checks himself in the mirror. He ought to shave, or at least trim his beard, but there isn’t that much time. In an hour or two, everyone will be up, and he needs to be gone by then.

It’s better this way he thinks as he changes into one of his robes, I can’t give them the chance to talk me out of this. They need Rook back as much as he does, and if it goes the way he theorizes, he can’t risk getting any of them caught up. Lucanis is needed for his god killing skills. Neve is needed when they inevitably mount a counter attack on her own city. Taash is needed for killing Elgar’nan’s archdemon. Harding is needed to help strategize and keep everyone on the same page. Rook is needed by everyone for her courage, her tenacity, her devotion.

And him?

What use is he without Rook? At this moment, not much. Best he can say is that he’s crafted a tool that will get her out of the fade, if he’s lucky. And if he gets sucked into the Fade in her place? That is good enough for him. A cowardly man who is terrified of the very thing he’s fascinated by, it will be a fitting end.

No, such thoughts did not become him, he tells himself. Wallowing in self-pity is not what she would want him to do.

He reviews his mental checklist. He’s gotten his affairs in order. The dagger is in his possession, safely hidden under his robe. His letter to Zea has been carefully written, and sealed in red wax, the imprint of the skull brooch to match her letter.

Speaking of which, he must address the only obstacle to his plans.

“Manfred!” he calls and the creak and clatter of bones signals the arrival of his ‘son’ as Rook had announced that blessed day. He wishes he hadn’t come to think of Manfred like that, if only to make this less painful.

“I’m planning to head to the Memorial Gardens.”

The skeleton’s eyes rotate in surprise and excitement, no doubt because neither of them have made their regular trek to that place in over three weeks, and Manfred so loves to travel there.

“Unfortunately I must insist you stay here.” And Manfreds jaw drops with a confused hiss.

“ WHY ”

“Because I need you to be here when Rook returns.” It’s not a lie, per se, Rook will be returning, with or without him, and it has the desired effect. The idea that Manfred’s beloved ‘ROOK !’s impending return is enough to get him excited enough to not ask questions of why exactly he cannot accompany Emmrich to rescue her. He happily accepts the brooch that Emmrich pins on his lapel, and promises to give it to Rook when she returns.

“You will keep her safe, my boy?” Emmrich asks, as he pats Manfred’s head and there’s a clattering as he nods profusely. It’s a comfort really, knowing that the spirit adores Zea as much as he does, and she adores him.. It makes what he plans to do a bit easier.

“Well, I must be off.” He grabs his staff and begins to head out.

He’s almost at the threshold when Manfred starts showing his first inkling that perhaps he’s not as naive as Emmrich assumed.

“WHY NOT EMMRICH GIVE HER BROOCH BACK?”

His mouth is dry as he attempts to come up with plausible lie excuse. “Because she was the one that gave it to you, it would be only right for you to return it yourself.” The skeleton thinks it over, its jaw clacking for a few agonizing moments, before he seems to agree that that is a perfectly acceptable answer. He gives a wave, allowing Emmrich to let out a sigh of relief, as he slips out of his room.

The Lighthouse courtyard is completely deserted in the odd twilight the permanent eclipse has cast on it, and he’s thankful that it gives him the cover he needs to sneak out like a thief. He takes one last look at its amazing beauty, the reason that he’s found the Fade so entrancing, how it's familiar and yet unfamiliar to the real world, everchanging, and yet staying the same, both at the same time.

But alas, just like an idea, his stay at the Lighthouse has probably come to an end far too soon, and he slips out, using the Eluvians to get to the Necropolis.

He doesn’t seem to notice someone is watching his departure with concern.

——————

His parent’s graves need tending. It’s been three weeks, and while the Mourn Watchers do all they can, recent events have made maintenance of the gardens low on their priorities. He’d never forgive himself if he left them neglected. Besides, he ought to talk to them, ask them to look after Zea and Manfred, seeing that they are daughter in law and grandson in all but name.

He plucks a few weeds that have grown between the pathstones that lead to their memorial, and cleans up the moss that always seems to be attracted to their gravestones. He places a hastily assembled bouquet at their steps, hoping that they wouldn’t mind his deviation from the norm of a carefully selected variety of flowers.

“I apologise that it’s been a while,” he speaks, trying to keep his voice his calm and steady, “Things have been quite hectic, you see, with ancient elvish gods, the ripping down of the veil, oh, and the Blight, complete with multiple Archdemons. Can’t forget that.” Despite that depressing description, he smiles, a feeling rather unnatural after these past few weeks, but it's genuine. “The strangest thing is, this is quite the happiest I’ve been in quite a long time. You see, that woman introduced you to, Zea…” he thinks back as she gave a small curtsey to the graves, was so respectful to them, as she was to even the smallest of wisps, “she’s helped me quite a lot in the far too short a time I’ve known her. She’s helped me immensely in confronting my deepest fears, has given me something to strive for, instead of cowering in the dark, trying to forestall something that claims us all in the end.” His eyesight gets a bit blurry, and pulls out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes before he continues, “You would love her. She’s kind, brave, and selfless. Willing to give herself to others, and asking nothing in return, even though she deserves everything. Willing to give her heart to a man who doesn’t deserve it.”

He takes a breath, and continues rambling, “She deserves so much more. She’s young, has the entire world ahead of her once this is over. A life of happiness and peace. I… intend to give her that, with all of my being. I trust you will understand in time why I must do this. Why I need to save her, no matter the cost? You know what’s strange,” he chuckles, and the sound coming out of his throat sounds foreign to him, it being so long since he’s felt humour, “The past forty years, I’ve been terrified of what lies beyond this life, to where you are. I’ve sought to forestall it, to remove myself from it. I’ve been so focused on how to avoid death, that I’ve never quite learned how to live. So despite my own fears…” he stands up straight, “I’ve found someone that is both worth living and now, dying for.”

He closes his eyes, trying to think of how to ask them to look after Zea and Manfred, when he hears the most peculiar sound, for a graveyard: Clapping.

He twirls around quickly, and comes face to face with the last person he’d ever expect in such a place.

“Taash…?”

“Nice speech. I can see why Rook likes you so much. You got a way with words.”

Which is of course the moment he’s at a loss for them.

“Why did you… How did you… Who?”

“Professor,” Harding appears from around one of the mausoleums, trying to control her heaving breath from chasing after the much longer legged Taash, “We couldn’t let you just go off to do something like this on your own!”

“Indeed,” the familiar clink of metal on stone signals the approach of Neve, always looking her finest. “We’d lose one of the finest minds in all of Thedas.”

“And for once Spite and I and the rest of this group are in agreement.” There’s a flap of wings, as Lucanis lands.

“LOST TOO MUCH. NO MORE.”

Emmrich is flabbergasted. And touched. And perplexed, not necessarily in that order.

“How did you know?”

Taash rolls their eyes, as if the answer is obvious. “I woke up from a dead sleep when a certain SOMEONE banged on my door telling me he’s worried about his dad. Telling me he thinks he left him behind to do something dangerous. I got really pissed off.” There’s soft apologetic hiss, as Manfred creeps up, somewhat embarrassed that he’s been revealed as the ‘traitor’. “Not mad at you buddy. Just mad at your dad.” Taash clarifies.

“Manfred!” Emmrich is shocked, but his voice carries no malice. He should have known a curiosity spirit would take such drastic action, that it would want to know exactly what was going on.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us.” Taash continues, looking around the place. “Smells… nicer than I thought it would. I can see why she might be here.”

“All of you…” he grouses, “are the most aggravating, the most exasperating, the most…” he sniffles and wipes his eyes again, “loyal friends I have ever had the pleasure to know. I honestly do not deserve it…”

“Perhaps,” Neve seems to agree, but her eyes say otherwise. “But Rook deserves you.”

It’s a strange feeling, he thinks. Zea loved him, perhaps still loves him after everything, and now he realizes that he’s never been truly alone. It’s hard to accept, after years of assuming that aside from Manfred, he’d always live a solitary life..

“Let’s get her back.” Taash cracks her knuckles, and the others nod, looking at him. He agrees There’s no more waiting, it’s time to finish this. He pulls out the dagger, and senses in which direction the veil is the thinnest.

There’s a few tense minutes where he does nothing but concentrate. Here, the veil is thin, where spirits travel freely back and forth, like dust motes on unseen currents, they float along… but there’s a presence here, solid and struggling to get past this barrier that even a wisp could get past. He closes his eyes, focusing on it, trying to discern its form. There’s something to it, an emotion of desperation, of regret, of hope.

“There!” He yells and points the dagger at an area near the gravesite, but farther down the path. Instinctively he raises his hand, keeping time with his words, his heartbeat. It’s just a variation of a summoning spell, used to attract a wisp. Except she is no mere wisp.

“From beyond, we beseech you to come forth, to grace us with your presence!”

His heart thrums in his chest as nothing happens.

One heartbeat…

Two heartbeats

Three heartbeats

Four heartbeats

It’s on the fifth one, that small spark leaps off the tip of the blade, and zaps towards where it was pointing. There’s no sound, but it looks like the air becomes a ripe grape being split open, its green flesh sending a gentle glow that excites the nearby wisps.

“SMELL ROOK.” Spite states, and that gives Emmrich hope. Not ‘Smells LIKE Rook’ like at the well at the Crossroads. This sounds more certain, and not some spirit feeding off his desperation to see her again. And yet, nothing appears in the veil tear. No spirit, no person, nothing.

Then, there’s a small voice, distant and warped coming from within the tear, but he could recognize it anywhere.

“Goodbye Varric… and thank you.”

He’s confused. He’s never met Varric, the dwarf had died long before he had joined her. But he has no time to contemplate that as the tear is becoming unstable, and still she does not appear, Emmrich decides he MUST take the initiative. Ignoring the danger he’s putting himself in, he sticks an arm into the tear.

Another heartbeat of nothing. And then he feels it, a hand. He knows that hand so intimately, every callus, every ridge. It grips hard, so hard that he can feel his bones squeak in protest.

“I’ve got her!”

He sticks another arm in to get a better hold, and immediately there is another hand gripping it, every finger clinging on to his wrist, including the shortened pinky. And yet, no matter how much he pulls, he doesn’t seem to make any progress. In fact, he seems to be pulled into the Fade, like being submerged while trying to rescue a drowning man.

She seems to sense that as well, and he feels her muscles slacken and her fingers begin to loosen, as if to let him go, to not drag him in with her. But he refuses. No. He will not let go of her, not even if he’s trapped in there with her for all of eternity.

“Zea, dearest! Don’t.. don’t you dare let go!” He all but begs, not sure if she can hear. Still, he slides even further, and he’s so close to being enveloped by the Fade, he can smell the dust and rocks, the regret and loneliness the place exudes. But, he still holds on, accepting whatever fate has in store for him, as long as it's by her side.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” A voice booms out from behind him, and strong arms wrap around his chest like a hug, causing his slow forward progress to halt, momentarily. He barely hears Taash’s voice ordering through gritted teeth the others to help over the sound of the blood pumping through his system.

Harding appears on his left, gripping on the only part of his forearm that still isn’t swallowed by the Fade and tugs, pulling up a paving stone with her titan powers to use as a footstopper. Manfred mirrors the action on Emmrich’s right side, and hisses with all his might as he helps pull. Neve immediately follows suit, positioning herself behind Manfred and clinging to his upper arm, lodging her prosthetic in a crack as she provides support. And finally, Lucanis is there on his left, muttering Antivan curse words as he helps pull. Emmrich is surrounded literally by all his closest companions, all desperate for one thing, and yet… it is not enough. She remains stuck. Either their combined strength will eventually wear out, or the already unstable tear will close. Already, its edges are becoming blurry, less defined.

And then, he feels two sensations.

A sharp tug on his lower robe, like a dog that has yanked on a favourite and well loved toy. Except, the bite doesn’t feel like it’s made by teeth, more of like a … beak?

Then there is a pair of hands on his shoulders. He feels them, the metal gauntlets, he swears he can hear the sound of plate armour grinding against metal. But when he risks a glance to the left, there is nothing there, only Lucanis, his eyes aglow.

“ THEY SEND THEIR HELP” he says through gritted teeth, and Emmrich knows that it is now or never.

“On the count of three, we all pull.”

“One…” Darling, hold on for just a bit longer!

“Two…” Please, my love… we’ve got you…

“Three!” Whatever it takes

There’s the sound of hissing, grunting, growling and he swears he hears a ‘Squawk’ mixed in, as they put their everything into this single action.

There’s no sound that accompanies what happens next. He thought there should be a SNAP, or a POP from the way the tension suddenly dissipates, as if Fate has finally thrown up her hands and just went ‘Fine, you win. Enjoy your prize.’ Because one moment, all of them are straining at the very limits of their endurance, the next, they’re all thrown backwards by their own stored momentum, with various sounds of discomfort. The tear in the veil snaps shut a few moments later.

Emmrich gets thrown the furthest, and he lands with an undignified yelp, combined with a wheezy ‘oof’ as something heavy lands on him.

It takes him a moment to truly understand what it is, but he feels a heartbeat echoing his, even under a layer of leather and chainmail. The smell of Tearstone island, of blight and blood, fills his nostrils as his vision clears. It’s her… she looks the same as he last saw her as she yanked that dagger out. The cut above her eye still oozes blood, and there’s still remnants of a bloodstain under her nose. Her silver hair is everywhere except her ponytail, some sticking to the cut, smearing the blood across her forehead. Stains of dirt cover her cheeks.

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

“Emmrich?” her voice is timid, almost afraid that what she’s seeing isn’t real. He realizes that her perception of time is different from his.. She looks like she hasn’t been there for more than a day, while to her, he probably looks like he’s aged years. He hopes this is the case, as it was a torment to be parted from her for these three weeks, and he had his friends to support him, she had no one.

“You’re back, Zea… you’re safe.” He says it as much to assure her as it is to assure himself that yes… she’s here.

“You… came for me?” she asks in a small voice that nearly breaks his heart, “Why did you come for me?” Does she not know how much she is loved and cherished, not only by him, but the rest of the crew? He holds her tight once more, knowing that words will not answer her question as well as actions will. He’s not sure if it's right to kiss her in this state, where both him and her are so emotionally delicate. So he contents himself with holding her, thanking the spirits for her safe return.

“You guys just gonna lay there forever? Or are you gonna fuck? ‘Cus if you are…uh… I want to be out of this creepy place.” There’s a giggle from Harding to Taash’s statement, and a half stern half amused warning from Neve.

“Thank you Taash, for knowing exactly what to say to enhance the moment.” He sighs, although there’s not much anger in his voice. THEY are the reason he is here, with her, and it’s a debt he’ll never quite be able to pay.

“We ought to go home, there’s a lot we must discuss…” Lucanis suggests.

“ HOME!” Manfred agrees as he begins to help Zea up. “ROOK COME HOME!”

She smiles as she accepts his bony hand, barely wincing as she places weight on her left ankle. He’ll have to address that when she gets home. He’s already gotten a checklist of things to do. They need to apprise her of current events, he needs to clean himself up, contact Myrna and the Mourn Watchers for their aid…

But most importantly, he needs to apologise. Not here of course, but where and when she feels comfortable. He needs to assure her that his ramblings were of a man nearly consumed by an irrational fear, that he loves her, deeply, truly.

And if she cannot quite bring herself to trust in his devotion right away, he’s willing to accept that it will take time to mend what was broken.

Whatever it takes…

[quietblueriver]

They’re in my head again (always) so here’s some more Southern Gothic fluff. Once again very minor spoilers for last night’s ep but mostly just them being perfectly, disgustingly in love.

-

The bones on Laudna’s garland knock together overhead as Imogen ducks under her arm, laughing and stepping close again, squeezing Laudna’s fingers (gently, always gently) before standing on her toes to reciprocate the spin.

Laudna has to bend a little awkwardly to compensate for the height difference, a familiar crack of joints just audible over the music as she turns. She’s laughing when she comes back, smile haunting and bright, and Imogen pulls her close enough to press a kiss to her cheek before twirling her out again.

It’s not long before the deck fills, the rattle of bones a charming if entirely off-beat accompaniment to the music, and a few minutes later, Imogen feels the tap of a skeletal finger on her shoulder. She turns, keeping one hand on Laudna’s waist, to find one of the crewmen shifting from one bony foot to the other.

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.” And Imogen knows that bones can’t blush, but she can almost see it anyway, nerves working themselves out through shifting hip bones and twitching phalanges, a clenching mandible. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Flaming blue eyes dart to Laudna and Imogen smiles, feeling fond and strangely kin to the skeleton, grateful to be surrounded by souls who see Laudna a little more like she does, who can appreciate the particular beauty of a wilting flower that refuses to give up its spot in the sun.

She raises a brow at her girlfriend, who nods, rubbing a thumb over Imogen’s wrist at her waist.

“Not at all.” She presses another kiss to Laudna’s cheek, a little too close to her mouth to be friendly, and Laudna shakes her head fondly even as she blushes.

No need to worry, darling. I only have eyes for you.

Imogen winks, only the smallest bit embarrassed to have been called out. Can’t blame a girl for tryin’ to make things clear. She tucks a strand of Laudna’s hair behind her ear before stepping back and gesturing to the skeleton waiting patiently beside them.

“Y’all have fun.”

The skeleton dips his skull and moves closer to Laudna. Rather beautifully tattooed waves circle down his radii and ulna, which move hesitantly toward her hand and waist, and Imogen thinks that maybe Kyle isn’t the only sensitive soul on the Crimson Abyss. She hears an enthusiastic, “Hello, there! I’m Laudna,” and smiles as she steps out of the crowd for some quiet.

-

Laudna finds her leaned against the railing, staring into the fog. She braces her forearms next to Imogen’s, pressing their hips together as she says, “Platinum for your thoughts?”

At Imogen’s raised brow she grins and waves a hand, “They’re clearly worth more than a copper, darling, although we might have to come up with some sort of payment plan if you intend to collect. We could resurrect some of the old shows with Pâté and Sashimi, maybe? Or, I have a few craft project ideas…”

Imogen gives a cursory glance to the crowd near them and then puts a hand on Laudna’s jaw and turns her, leaning up for a kiss.

“You can have ‘em for free, darlin’.” Laudna leans down and kisses her again, lips cool and, thrillingly, a little bit familiar now. “You can have whatever you want from me.”

She means it as a tease, even if she’s absolutely serious, but Laudna’s face changes, brow furrowing as she traces her nails up Imogen’s cheek, brings her fingers down to rest against her nape.

“Yes,” she says, quieter. “About that.”

And Imogen knows, braces, waits. Laudna’s eyes, dark and appraising, meet hers. “Your soul is too precious to risk.” It’s definitive, the usual joyful rhythm of her words traded for a series of hard stops.

“So is yours.”

Laudna blinks. And Imogen understands that even now, even after…after, Laudna can’t quite believe what she means to them, what she means to Imogen, but if this is what helps her to understand, then Imogen is more than willing to give it.

“I…”

She waits patiently, but when Laudna seems unable to find her words, looking down at the railing of the ship and biting her lip, Imogen says, “I know she’s in there with you, and you know I support you doin’…whatever it is you want to do about that. It’s your mind and your body and your soul, Laud. I would never, ever try to take any choice away from you.”

She risks tilting Laudna’s chin up with her pointer finger, a gentle pressure that leads Laudna’s eyes back to hers.

“But I need you to understand how important you are to me. To us. I had to live without you once, and…” She clears her throat as a cry comes from the crowd behind them, the music changing and Chetney yelling something she can’t quite make out. Laudna presses closer to her.

“Imogen.”

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “I don’t intend on doin’ that again, unless you ask me to.” Laudna shakes her head vehemently, nearly dislodging her rock chisel, and Imogen smiles at her. “But even more than that, it’s…you bring so much good to the world, Laudna. You. As you.” She gestures at the garland and tilts her head back to the crowd. “You bring so much joy.”

“That’s kind of you, darling,” she murmurs, ducking her head again, “but joy isn’t power. I don’t have much of that, without her, but you…you do, Imogen. You’re important. Too important to risk.”

She doesn’t sigh, not out loud, but inside she wants to scream. She wants to give Laudna her soul, to dive into her and destroy the bitch who has spent so long torturing the best person Imogen has ever known.

“There is nothing too important to me to risk for you.” A disgruntled noise, but Imogen pushes on, determined. “Think of what you’d give me for me, Laud.” There’s a tiny drop of ichor at the corner of her eye when she looks up, and Imogen catches it with her thumb as it falls. “You have to know I’d give the same for you. You don’t have to understand why, but…you believe me, right?”

Laudna bites her lip again, and ichor wells there too, the skin split with the force of her incisor. It’ll heal, Imogen knows, but she has to stop herself from tutting, settles for freeing the lip with the same thumb already stained black. Laudna watches as Imogen sucks reflexively on her thumb before bringing it back to Laudna’s cheek.

“Laudna?”

Finally, she nods. “I believe you. Of course, I believe you.”

Imogen nods back at her, says softly, “Good. Then you know, when I said you could suck out some of my soul, I wasn’t offerin’ anythin’ that ain’t already yours.”

Laudna sucks in a breath and Imogen kisses her and kisses her until another cry rises from the crowd and they break apart, breathing slightly heavier.

It’s a lot, all of it. Too much, always too much, to have to carry, even if it is easier between them. But as the music strikes up again, another new tune, Imogen wants to take advantage of the chance to do something a little bit normal and dance with her girlfriend. And if it’s in the most abnormal of circumstances—on a ghost pirate ship with music blasting from their sentient robit friend while bone garland swings from above—then that’s okay. That’s perfectly them.

“And anyway, didn’t you say it was kinda hot? The thought of suckin’ out my soul?”

Laudna barks out a laugh and purples, hand moving to her own cheek.

“Imogen.”

She gives her best roguish grin and winks, grabbing Laudna’s hand.

“Dance with me?”

“Always.”

Their friends are in a circle when they return, Chetney throwing his body against the ground in a strange approximation of a worm as the others clap, and Laudna leans into Imogen as they settle between Orym and Ashton to watch, cheering him on.

[jacqcrisis]

Hello! Sorry if you're tired of talking about your older writing instead of the current works which I also love, but I wanted to say I love your characterization(s) of Charon throughout your work and I was wondering if you had any tips on understanding his character's core/just how to write him true to form?

Listen. Listen. I can talk about Charon all day. I love him. I have other hades AUs I haven’t even talked about on here that I think about often to this day and if I ever get the itch, they will be written.

And that’s very kind of you to say. Idk if I write him true to any form, but I am extremely anal about keeping characters as in character as possible. Or at the very least, as believably in character as I can. When I plan on writing a character for a longer fic, whether AU or not, I usually try to find out everything about them and break them down to the bone before building it back up. What is in canon that I can use to build back a believable skeleton that is fleshed by what I can infer from the bones underneath?

So core character concepts for Charon that are in canon that I use:

Greedy - he likes him gold and him stuff. No matter what universe you are writing in, this is one of, if not, the biggest driving factor for any job or hobby he has. He wants money, he likes money, and he knows how to make money.

Protective - of his things, his lifestyle, and the people he cares about. He’ll fight Zagreus, who he likes, if he touches his shit. One of the few emotions you can get out of him in game is anger at possibly uncovering his ‘thing’ with Hermes. He keeps Persephone’s location a secret (thereby protecting her) because either he cares for her or because Nyx does and Charon cares about his mom.

Difficult to discern - in part because he’s a big spooky skull man whose face you can’t see and who doesn’t talk, but it also seems to be mostly on purpose. Charon can communicate, given what other characters know more about him, but he specifically chooses not to. What you come to know about him, you find out through context clues, what other people say, and your own sleuthing which leads to-

Extremely private and disinterested in other people’s opinions about him - to the point, he doesn’t care what the GODS THEMSELVES think. All of them think he’s vile and nasty (save for Hermes). The people he’s close with know the kind of person he is, and that’s what matters. On top of that, he has his secrets, and he keeps them hidden, one of these secrets being who he is as a person. 

Independent - Nyx states she doesn’t worry about him because he’s extremely good at doing his own thing and he likes it that way, unlike her other failsons. His intentions are all on his own, and he doesn’t answer to anyone; not her, not Hades, not the gods, only himself. If he is helping someone, it is for his own reasons (maybe because he cares, probably because of money, possibly because Hermes asked).

Clever - He’s literally the head of an underground smuggling ring in game. Like this man knows how to do shit, make money, and get away with it. He’s capable of thinking many steps ahead, and able to plan for the long con.

Methodical - He's got his routine. He rows his boat. He counts his coin. He's mans his shops. He does things his way. He has his methods and he sticks to them.

Patient - that one's a gimme. He’s older than most of the gods and paddles a ferry around at the pace of molasses and doesn’t speak and does nothing to really speed Zagreus’ plight along. Clearly he understands and practices patience. 

Good Fighter - he’ll beat your ass.

Asexual (of some kind) - Aphrodite directly states she can’t get to Charon as he only ‘lusts after coin’. He is immune to machinations of the goddess of sex and beauty. But not the god of merchants, clearly.

A Gentleman - by Hermes’ opinion. Hermes really likes Charon. Please say hi to him for Hermes because- 

Charon Really Likes Hermes - no matter what you think is going on between them, if it’s just friendship, or professional associates, or he’s in love, this is canon. He ignores everyone at the party for Hermes and vice versa. He’s very protective of the thing they have going on. He specifically lets Hermes into the Underworld far enough that Zeus can’t sense him anymore. Hermes hangs out in his shop. Hermes boon is THE MOST EXPENSIVE ONE AT HIS LAST SHOP NO MATTER WHAT. I cannot stress how much Charon gives Hermes a pass and how much Hermes seemingly knows about him despite the other core concepts listed above I just- I- AH

Anyways, from those bones, you can start to infer and build back a believable version of the character for whatever you are writing. Is he kind and thoughtful? Probably, given how the people who know him talk about him. Is he loyal? Given how he acts in regards to his inner circle, you could say yes. Does he have a temper? Probably not, given he doesn’t care much about other people’s opinions nor reacts very much to anything in canon save for very specific circumstances. Is he lonely? Probably, on some level considering he’s alone all the time and how protective he is of his buddy, etc, etc, etc. 

The bones justify what you are putting on top of them and with that, for whatever thing you're writing, you can build up a believable version of a character. Even in the most extreme of AUs, like in the 70’s and on a beach in America or maybe in a dnd type universe where a character might be a lich for…reasons, as long as the core concepts are in place and every decision or authorial deviation from canon the characters make stem from those, it will be fine.

[sociopathicartist]

heyy!! I was wondering if you could do a fluff (romantic) oneshot in which Sans (UT) has a gothic gf who is actually really sweet, kind and caring towards others despite the way she expresses herself. I'm just really curious as to how that dynamic will play out in their dating life ^_^

LUV LUV LUV UR WRITING BTW

hey! thank you for requesting, i’m gothic in style so i loved getting requested this! i scrambled through a lot of ideas, but thought doing this in a letter format would be the best for showing the full dynamic that sans loves instead of cramming tons of info into a single scenario one shot. hope you enjoy it!

baby,

i’m not too sure why i’m writing to you this time. i guess all the smiles and loving comments you give me whenever i write to you have finally got ‘under my skin’, and i’m writing you another letter right now, probably to be slipped into one of your bags or under your pillow for you to find.

i know a lot of people give you weird looks for the way you dress. i know the barrage of compliments you get when we go anywhere out in public annoys you, but i also know that you accept every compliment anyway despite wanting to be left alone because you don’t want to be mean, and you don’t want to fall under the stereotype that people place on you by just giving a small smile instead of a loud, outgoing thank you.

you’ve never said that to me directly, but i’ve been with you long enough to know how you feel.

i never really understood why people thought you were scary or mean for the way you look, figures they’d think the walking skeleton was scarier, or the seven-foot robot they watch on tv who has a chainsaw that can come out of him at will.

i never thought you looked scary, and i never had the fear that you were going to insult me whenever i asked you for directions down the street where we first met. why would i look at you differently for the way you look whenever everyone looks so different all the time? isn’t it a normal thing to be different?

even though you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen (even if you turned into a worm, which yes, i’d still love you), it wouldn’t matter to me if you woke up tomorrow and decided to change your entire look. your looks aren’t what matters to me, even though i do like the cool eyeliner you wear or the t-shirts you have with bones on them.

i’ve never been loved by someone like the way i am by you.

i can’t get your alluring voice out of my head, and every time i roll over in bed to see the silly letters and doodles you’ve given me that i have pinned to my wall, i can’t help but be reminded of how much i love you. (even though i never forget, baby.)

it makes me so happy to see how much you hang out with papyrus, and how genuinely you treat him. i love seeing you chill out with our friends, and how happy and relaxed you look. i love how you’ve never made me feel dumb for not knowing certain human traditions or cultures, and how you just explain them to me and give me easy reminders when i forget something important.

even when your black lipstick leaves kiss stains on my skull that are hard to rub out, and when you steal my jacket to wear whenever you’re upset or missing me, i’ll never take away from how amazing you are.

maybe i’m gushing a bit too much. it’s a lot easier to write this all out rather than say it directly to your pretty face.

i just want you to know that i’ll never look at you differently for how you dress and that i’ll never be embarrassed and ask you to tone down your makeup or outfit for when we go out. i can’t wait to hang out tomorrow and wrap you in a tight hug, listening to your pretty voice as you tell me about how your day was.

i think i’m going to save the other mushy stuff for a later time. i just wanted you to be able to read this when someone gives you a weird comment or makes a snarky joke. maybe it’ll help you remember that some short skeleton out there thinks you’re the coolest (and hottest) creature to walk on this earth.

i love you, and i’ll be thinking of you always.

- sans.

[lemon-natalia]

Gideon the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 36

well this was a remarkably long chapter wow

Go Camilla, coming in clutch! And Gideon has her longsword back at least to give her a bit of an advantage

Silas and Colum struggled against Ianthe as a newly formed Lyctor still in conflict with Naberius’s soul, Harrow, Gideon, and Camilla vs. a ten-thousand year old Lyctor, even with all three of them, is not remotely a fair fight

'But now this benighted vision stood before its natural predator’ ok i’ll admit i wasn’t sold on Harrow for much of the first half of this book, but i would now like to state that she is pretty fucking awesome

‘But her smile was long and sweet and beautiful’ awwwww, these two, i think this is the first time Gideon's called Harrow beautiful? also even fighting an eldritch being Gideon cannot help but notice hot women

‘We do bones, motherfucker’ fuck yeah, well put!ohhh Harrow and Gideon fight so well together and just incredibly in tandem … which of course horribly foreshadows Gideon’s decision at the end of the chapter 🫠

WHAT’S THIS, it's HARROW with a STEEL CHAIR!! If the chair was a bunch of skeletons and perpetual bone

and of course Harrow can’t resist boasting even in the middle of a giant fight. Good For Her. also this girl faints so much

oh and Ianthe’s back for Meat Battle Round 2: Electric Boogaloo! Ianthe vs Cytherea feels like a kaiju fight except with more bones and meat and blood

'You’re very brave - a bit like another Gideon I used to know’ wow what with all the dramatic fights and revelations happening the last couple chapters i totally forgot about the other Gideon, confirmation i guess that they were involved somehow back when all the Lyctors were first created?

poor Camilla, imagine you spend what you think are the last moments before your horrific death third wheeling

these two just cannot stop sacrificing themselves for each other can they 😢😢

'And she fell forward, right on the iron spikes’ my brain is totally bluescreening right now istg if Gideon dies permanently i will lose it

[crowcalling]

sigh… the thoughts win, the anons have won too…

here you little shits you wanna enable me? get fucking ice water dumped on you as a reminder of how fucked up I rlly am /aff /nr /nm

Cw for cannibalism, cannibalistic fantasies, dub-con, pressure point usage (idc that he’s a skeleton I’ll HC whatever the fuck I want <3), temporary paralysis, technically torture?, Sadism, Consent withdrawn, etc

nothing sexual going on tho so yeah 👍

ALSO THIS IS NOT BE CONDONING THIS IN ANY WAY. these are just really fucked up shit that goes through my head most likely due to me being a sociopath and mentally unwell person so yeah.

lemme know if there’s any other warnings it needs.

There’s been too many thoughts and fantasies in my mind recently of doing absolutely horrid shit to Ink, more specifically cannibalistic thoughts bc I’ve had those since I was a kid-

but just rlly clear visualization of Ink beneath me, it’s sweet at first gentle bites to his neck, just basic cuddling, etc.. But then it shifts to an unfortunately all to family feeling of craving just to fucking HURT something, and he’s right. There.

His sweet scent and taste right there and so easy to just.. destroy. While he’s completely relaxed and unaware.

And when those urges hit me I can’t even fucking stop and it gets so bad to where I bite myself at times, but why would I need to do that when his pretty bones are right there on display?

I could just slither my hands up and down and hit juust the right pressure points to make him lock up with a whine of confusion due to the temporary paralysis settling in and, leaving him vulnerable.

All the while I get to bite down to my sadistic hearts content and listen to the sweet sound of his clavicle beginning to crunch under the harsh treatment.

The addictive marrow and inky ‘blood’ seeping into my jaws as I just keep biting, and biting, and biting.

The sounds of his whines as he pleads softly to stop, that it hurts, however all falling to an audience of deaf ears.

My teeth are use to crunching bones, every time I eat something with bones inside, I eat it, no matter how thick the bone is I still manage to consume it and reduce it to nothing.

So his, are nothing but light work.

Breaking off his clavicle and taking a bit to crunch and chew before swallowing down the sweetly addictive substance of his magic. The gasp of pain and tremble through his bone as I move to the next spot.

Tracing his pretty patterns on his bones that almost look like porcelain with how beautiful he is, but oh how much more beautiful would he look if I just decided to rip that all up~

His ecto shimmering underneath that’s so desperately trying to dispel as I press my claws rough against the faux flesh, like he’s a present, that was about to get the wrapping torn off.

Cooing false comforts as I keep digging my nails into the flesh, the blood welling between my fingers and I can’t help but imagine how stunning his false organs would look if I tore them out and engorged in his liver..

Eventually moving away back to biting and eating away at his bones; things like his ulna parts of his spine, neck, etc.

All so deliciously irresistible.

Perfect for consumption.

[mothgodofchaos]

If you're taking requests maybe do a yandere necromancer mark x a gender neutral reader character, Like the readers a daring adventurer and stuff who wanders into his forest n he becomes absolutely infatuated w em if that's ok (sfw if you need the specification)

Eyes

A fellow Necromancer enjoyer, I appreciate you. You have brilliant taste. And yandere? Is it my birthday?

Necromancer x GN!Reader, TW: yandere, stalking, death mention, fire mention Words: 801

As soon as you step into the Forest of Fear, you sense something is off. More than just the overwhelming dread that settles into the pit of your stomach, but like you’re being watched. The dark trees hang over your head, leaves long fallen and rotted away years ago as the dead trunks and branches block the sky from your view. A shiver runs up your spine as you keep walking, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders and chest. 

His eyes follow you as you walk the path, trying not to slip on the wet rocks and sticks that lie underfoot. It had rained recently, encouraging the rare plants that take root here to bloom. He needed a few of them for potion ingredients, coaxing him out quite a ways from home. He doesn’t like people, finds them cumbersome and annoying. The only real benefit they offer is a new guard for his skeleton army. He enjoys perhaps a little too much hearing the rattling of the bones of the newest foolish adventurer sent to kill him. 

But you’re not the average adventurer walking down the path, you look too fragile, lost even. A grin spreads across his face, his claws digging into the bark of the nearest tree as he pushes himself up. His foot falls silent on the forest floor, years of evasion and stealth killings lending themselves well to his intrigue in you. Your hood of your cloak falls, and he stops in his tracks, taken aback by the utter beauty before him. He watches as your eyes dart around, captivating him in them. His heart pounds as he wishes for you to look up at him with those eyes, and only him. 

“Where are you going, your highness~?”

He growls under his breath, the wind howling around you and drowning out his voice before it can even attempt to reach your ears. The air is chilling, forcing you to take cover under a larger tree from the wind attempting to tip you over. Looking around, you realize in a panic that you’re losing light quickly, and you are not one to want to see what roams the forest at night. Your lantern emerges from under your cloak, attempting to use your flint and steel to light it. Sparks prove pointless as the wind snuffs them out immediately, and your anxiety is far too high to try and readjust yourself. With all the dead plants around you, knowing the whole forest could go ablaze if you’re not careful.

His grin droops into a frown as he watches you shake and shiver at the base of the tree, failing to light your lantern. Usually he’d just relish in watching you struggle, but there’s something inside him that needs to see you safe. That needs to make you his. He snaps his fingers, hand blazing into a brilliance of green flame. It catches your eye as he approaches, causing you to scramble backwards up onto your feet. You’re not stupid, you know who the necromancer is, and the damage he can do. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he gets closer, before he kneels down in front of you.

“Hello, my dear. Are you in need of assistance?” He can’t help but be enamored by how wide your eyes are, how the fire reflects in them. All you can manage is a nod, and he chuckles as he rises to his feet.

“Here, I will not harm you. You have my word that you will make it out of this forest alive, and in one piece. Such a face would be wasted on a skeleton grunt. No, you will sit with me in my main chamber.”

Your hand is taken in his, and while everything in your is telling you to run, you know better than to fight him and run off into the dark. He leads you at your own pace, making sure that you’re alright as he looks you up and down, taking in your form. You don’t quite realize what you have gotten yourself into, but at least you’re alive for now. And for a man that stays out in the middle of nowhere for centuries, he is quite the conversationalist. His heart grins sinisterly as you start to relax around him, getting comfortable with him. The way that your eyes twinkle when you laugh, makes his hardened heart melt, and he so desperately wants to hold onto that feeling.  “Careful, my dear. Can’t let you get hurt now. Not that I’m here now.”

He lifts you up to prevent another tripping, keeping his grip on you firm but affectionate. He has found a perfect present for him in the woods, and he is not letting you go now that he’s found you.

[shewhowas39]

pairing: Astarion x f!durge (June)/OC fic summary: in which Astarion's nice, simple plan crumbles when he falls for neutral good, cinnamon roll of a divination wizard who may or may not be a Bhaalspawn.

(art by @/dafna-winchester)

chapter title: #1 Crush chapter summary: in which the gang fights skeletons, June is in trouble (because feeeeelings), and Bone Daddy is here! content warnings: violence, injury, blood, discussions of Astarion's past trauma

A/N: this one took me longer than planned, but it's here! no kissing (i'm sorry!!! but more soon, i swear!) but i hopefully make up for it with some longing.

***

“I suppose you want to hear about Cazador,” he says with a very put-upon sigh. 

June looks up at him, blinking with surprise and confusion at the unexpectedness of this topic. The Dancing Lights spell she had cast to help her see what she was writing twirl and blink overhead, lighting the planes of Astarion’s pale face with a faint blue hue. 

“You don’t gotta talk about anything you don’t wanna, Astarion.”

“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he says, “but that won’t do anyone any good.”

“All right.” June closes her spellbook and sets it aside before shifting to face Astarion. Her knee brushes his, sending butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. She folds her hands in her lap and focuses on his face. His beautiful face. “I’m listening.”

“So, you already know the condensed version - that Cazador is a monster who craves power over people and that I, as his spawn, was forced to do his bidding,” Astarion says, almost flippantly. “But the longer version is no less grim. If you want to understand the true cruelty of the vampire lord, then you should first know that he gave me a choice.”

“A choice?”

“I had been attacked by a gang of thugs who were angry about a ruling a made as magistrate,” he explains. “They had beaten me nearly to death before Cazador found us. He chased them off, and then offered me eternal life. He insisted I say it out loud. That I wanted it. And with my only options being eternal life or bleeding out on the street, I took him up on the offer.”

As much as she doesn’t want to, June can’t help but imagine that night. Astarion lying on the street, bruised and bleeding, in pain and scared as his life slipped away from him. And the dark figure standing over him, offering him a twisted form of salvation. And then she remembers his mother, the woman whose hair he combed as a child, whom he said he was close to, believing her son died in an alley, never knowing he was right there in the same city, keeping his distance from her for her own good..

A lump rises in June’s throat, but she tries to swallow it down. She doesn’t think Astarion is seeking sympathy right now. 

“Why, um, why would he make you choose?” she asks. “Why not just turn you if that’s what he wanted?”

[betterthanyalls]

Heyeyeye ok so I’m losing some motivation (IM NOT QUITTING!!!) so to gain some back I decided to do a crackshot! I haven’t done one in a while so I’m suspecting that it might help get my mind flowing :) Anyways here ya go!!

Masterlist

Reading Songs

Superstar!Sans x Reader

Words: 641

Published: 5-26-2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was crowded by the huge crowd all around me. It was a huge rave that my friend convinced me to go to but now she left me. I hate this. I hate all the noise and people. Everyone is so loud and obnoxious. It’s just a rave, can’t they be quiet? Anyways, I was standing near the side of the room while the DJ played some music. I was reading my book, It Starts With Us by Colleen Hoover. She is my favorite author ever. I can relate to every one of her books, it’s like she writes them just for me.

The DJs loud voice over the microphone cut me out of my reading world as I sighed in frustration. Couldn’t they have some compassion for a booktoker like myself? Grumbling out my anger, I listened to what the DJ had to say.

“Yo yo yo! What is up with my gangstas! Tonight we have a special someone just for you guys!!! Let me hear you holler! It’s the one, the only, Funny Bone!!” The DJ introduced the star, an extremely famous idol known for his comedy songs. Smoke filled the stage as a figure appeared. Once in view, I saw him. I saw the most hottest and majestic man there ever was. But he wasn’t even a man….he was a skeleton. From his tall 6’4 height to his buff bones and ribcage. But, I wasn’t like all these other girls. I wasn’t going to swoon over some guy I don’t even know.

I ignored how he was dancing and doing a hot jig while his voice serbaded the room. I continued to read my book. But soon, I heard the music louder and more direct. Looking up, I saw the singer in front of me. He was holding his hand out for me to grab while looking in my eyes. The skeleton continued singing a love song.

“Cause I don’t mind if the world spins faster

Music’s louder, the waves get stronger

I don’t mind if the world spins faster

faster

faster

Just let me take you to a better place!”

I am in shock. I slowly grab his boney hand and he pulls me onto the stage and holds me close in his arms. My beautiful orbs look up to him through my long fluttery lashes. He looks in my colorful spheres while still singing. Funny Bone spins me around in a circle. Soon enough, the song and concert is over and the crowd cheers loudly before leaving. But I’m still on stage with Funny Bone. Once the entire audience leaves, he turns to me with a big smile.

“I saw you down there reading, I didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and so natural!” He complimented me with those dark eyes, only lit up by a blue dot in each. I laugh nervously as I look at this hunk of a man in front of me.

“Oh yeah, I’m just not like those other girls who swoon so easily.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. I’m so small compared to him. He chuckled this deep and beeping chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re different. I like that about you. Anyways, my name is Sans. Sans Undertale.” He smirked at me with his husky voice. I blushed deeply.

“O-o-o-o-oh I i i i i i i i’m Y-y-y-y-y-y-y/n…” I looked down anxiously. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look back at him. His eyes were half lidded as he gave me a dark smile.

“That’s a beautiful name, Y/n. And you’re so petite too, why don’t we go back to my room and talk more?” He suggested. I was shocked but hooked.

“Y-y-y-yes pl-p-please…” I accepted quietly. I’m just some nerdy girl. He is a superstar. How could he ever like me?

[luna-is-lost]

UNDERWELCOMED

Part 12

Sans POV:

“Umm… S-Sans?” My brother shifted uncomfortably as he spoke. “what’s up?” He looked more nervous as I spoke… Why though… Did I do something wrong… did he forget something or… someone… “W-Well, I Was… Wondering… uh… Where Did We… umm… Live? Like B-Before Here?… “…” “…” I could feel the corners of my mouth tilt down as I spoke. Subconsciously trying to keep my chill, laidback demeanor. “why’s it matter? someone talkin’ about it?” He wrung his hands as he avoided my eyes. “Uhh… Well No… I Was J-Just Wondering,” his voice lost volume as he spoke, “ Because… I… ummm… N-Never mind… It’s Not I-Important…. Sorry…” “paps, i… i’m sorry, didn’t mean it like ‘that’.” “It’s Fine… I Just… thought maybe I would remember something if I learned about the past…” He quieted to an almost whisper… I dislike the thought of telling Papyrus more of our years of captivity… but he… he deserves the truth… Plus, it’s worth it for him to remember. How could I describe what it was like to him, though? He’s always seen things differently than me… Maybe I could…” heya, bro” He looked at me hopefully. “ Yes, Sans?” “why don’t i show you” “Really?!” He smiled, though it looked slightly painful. “yeah, no skin off my bones” I shot him a joking smile and he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. I tell him to hold on tight and teleport us… home.

☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎✡︎ POV

There’s a zap of… magic! That can’t possibly be right, everyone’s gone! They all left after the player gave up… SO WHO WAS THAT?! Moving forward, I think they’re walking through Snowdin. Is that….

“here we are, home. this is snowdin.” “Wowie… It’s… Beautiful!” “yeah” “Sans, Look, I R-Remember That, That’s T-The Inn! The Nice Inn Keeper U-Used To Give M-Me Lollipops And Pats O-On The Head!” “that’s right, pap, i’m glad you remembered. let’s looks around, then we should go the the house.” “Sounds G-Good!”

… IT’S THEM?! THE SMILING TRASH BAG AND HIS IDIOT BROTHER?! Why are they here? Shouldn’t they be all happy and adventurous on the surface? WHERE THEY WON’T BE ANNOYING?! …And why is Papyrus being shown around Snowdin by his brother? I know he’s easily fooled, but he isn’t stupid… Unless…

heheheheh!

This’ll be SO much fun!

Sans POV:

Papyrus has been looking around Snowdin for about 45 minutes. It’s kinda weird to see him so enticed by things we’ve seen everyday for [] years… “Wowie, Sans! T-There’s So Much Stuff T-To Explore!” “yep” “Umm… C-Could We Look A-At Our Old House?” “yeah, of course bro.” Our house was only about a minute or so away… probably not enough to convince pap to let me take a short-cut, and I shouldn’t leave him by himself for now. “S-Sans, Did We Really Live Here?” He asks with tear in his eye sockets as soon as he sees the house. “yeah, go and check it out, all of our stuff is still there, haven’t been able to move in to the surface yet.” “A-Alright!” He swiftly opens the door and cautiously peaks inside before deciding it was safe and walking in. I’d be lying if I said being here didn’t make me feel better… At least we were safe… A shudder runs down my spine as I think, ‘were we ever truly safe with the possibility of a genocidal human falling down here without warning?’. I can’t help but feel almost envious that Papyrus still has that unending, undeniable sense of optimism. To find the good in the bad… I think that’s a bit too philosophical for me. Pap is curiously eyeing the impracticality of the sink’s height. I can help but feel almost normal as he looks around. “heya, once you’re done exploring down here, how about you look at your old room.” “Do Y-You Think I’ll R-Remember Something F-From Digging Through My-My Past?” “it’s a good a shot as any…” “O-Okay, Brother!” He drags me up the stairs like he’s done it a thousand times, and he has, he just doesn’t remember.

☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎✡︎ POV

“Hehehehe!” The skeletons are busy looking around together, but sooner or later Smily will be gone and I can ‘help’ poor, credulous Papyrus! Out of the ‘goodness of my heart’ and all… “Sans! L-Look At T-Those Action Figures!” “i know, pretty cool right.” “Sans?” “yeah?” The lazy one yawns. “You L-Look R-Really Tired, Would You Like To N-Nap For A Bit? It’s like Papyrus can read my mind! Ha! This is going WAY better than expected! “yeah…” he unceremoniously lies on Papyrus’s bed and is out like a light. Leaving poor Papyrus to his own devices. I’ve never liked Snowdin all too well, the Earth is rather tough… Oh well, this is to PERFECT of an opportunity to pass up!

Papyrus’s POV:

A light knocking sound rings through the silent house, starting me as my brother rests peacefully. Sprinting down the stairs with more energy than the core itself… the core? Where in the underground did that come from… AM I REMEMBERING THINGS?!

That aside I open the door to see a small ✡︎☜︎☹︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎ ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎. “H-Hello… uh How C-Can I Help You?” It smiles a bit too wide before answering. “Howdy, Papyrus, I’m your best friend, ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎✡︎! Don’t you remember me?” I feel really guilty… “N-No, I uhh I Don’t, S-Sorry Friend…” He looks very disappointed… I’m a bad friend… “Oh… that’s so sad… you left me all alone and then forgot about me? I thought we were friends, Papyrus… I guess I should just leave-“ “-! Wait, W-We Can Still Be F-Friends! P-Please?” “Really?” ,His smile returns slightly, “ I think that’s a wonderful idea, we should hangout right now! I can even remind you of the past… Wouldn’t you like that?” I shift uncomfortably. Sans would NOT like me going with a stranger while he isn’t around, even if they claim to be my best friend… I’m not that gullible, and wouldn’t someone try to manipulate a monster you can barely remember their own name… I can only trust Undyne and Sans… Right? I mean… they didn’t really tell me much of my past… Sans seemed almost avoidant of it when I first asked. Still, this is dangerous, especially if ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎✡︎ is working with the humans… IS THIS A TRAP! “Papyrus, I don’t have all day… don’t you want to spend time with me? I AM your best friend after all. Unless, you don’t trust me… “ W-Well, uh Friend, I F-Feel It Would Be A Poor Decision To Go With Someone Down Here Without Sans Knowing, Especially If I Don’t Know Or Remember Them…” “S-so we aren’t friends anymore…?” He sniffs before dropping sadly… I’m an awful friend, how could I betray someone like that… He’s been nothing but kind to me, and I can’t say that about many people… He also said he was alone, so… “W-Wait! I’m S-Sorry ☞︎☹︎⚐︎🕈︎☜︎✡︎ Please D-Don’t Go, If You Let Me Tell Sans B-Before We Go, Then It’ll Probably Be O-Okay!” He turns his head back up to look at me. “Friend… Sans doesn’t WANT you to remember, Why do you think he fell asleep when you wanted to keep looking around?”,How did he…,”He wants you to be easily confused and manipulated, they only saved you so you couldn’t give the humans information.” How does he know all of this… why do his words bother me so much? Have I always doubted that people love and want to protect me?… If so… “ A-Alright, I’ll Go With Y-You, But I N-Need To Be Home B-Before Sans Wakes U-Up.” “Okay, Papyrus! I’m so glad you chose to hang out with me! Follow me!” “O-Of Course, My F-Friend!”

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Sans POV:

Something’s wrong. I haven’t even opened my eyes yet, but I know something is wrong. “papyrus?” …silence… Papyrus isn’t in the room. Opening my eyes and half falling out of bed, I quickly realize… he isn’t even in the house. Taking a quick glance at the clock it tells me I’ve been asleep for almost 2 hours… That’s bad… How long has he been gone?!

“pap?!” I shout around Snowdin, teleporting or walking anywhere my brother could have run off to… I just hope he isn’t lost in the forest… That thing goes on forever… “papyrus?!” The world echos back his name, but nobody answers. …A painful scream shatters the world’s silence… “Papyrus?!” A vine throws my brother 10 feet in front of me. He opens his eyes blearily and begins to mumble. “papyrus?! what happened, where did you go?!” He struggles to breathe as I crouch in front of him. “S-Sans…-“ An awful cough interrupts him, “I… R-Remember… E-E-Everything…” He promptly passes out, leaving me to wonder what happened… “Heheheh! Hahaha! AHAHAHAHAH!!”…

FLOWEY?!

…Chapter 13 coming soon-ish…