#directly responsible for my preference of horror flicks

[frnkiebby]

Hey so this isn't a frank revolving thing but I'm super proud of it

I made a breakfast club water color paint picture for my art class :)

you should be fucking proud of it!

it’s so good!! idk how but i didn’t watch the breakfast club till i was like 22??? what the fuck is that about???~🎃

[good-beanswrites]

A second drabble of "Fuuta goes to get a 3am snack and Es is being Weird" LOL. I love @waivyjellyfish 's hcs of inhuman Es, and they would 100% use this to torture Fuuta. Nothing overtly supernatural happens, which just adds to his pain that it's all technically possible, but still creeping him the fuck out 😂

Fuuta blinked the grogginess from his eyes, the fridge light nearly blinding him. He shifted around some leftovers, picking out something that looked appetizing. He peered over his shoulder. It was the dead of night, and he’d hate to wake any of the others. Unfortunately, he had no such luxury himself. His grumbling stomach didn’t care about his need for rest. 

He placed a bite of cold food in his mouth. 

He closed the fridge door, revealing Es standing behind it. 

His coughing masked the sound of horror that would have come out otherwise. He’d leapt backwards about five feet, narrowly avoiding throwing the food directly at the warden’s darkened figure.

“You didn’t choose my cooking?” was all Es said in response to the mortifying reaction.

“The fuck are you doing!? I didn’t even hear you come in…” 

One would think that those clicking heels and collar of jangling keys would make Es into a walking noisemaker, but they were surprisingly silent everywhere they went. The prisoners had often joked about Es’ catlike steps. Fuuta in no laughing mood, now.

“Don’t you have a lot to do tomorrow?” He tried to shake the uneasy feeling swirling in his gut. “You’ve been talking about it all day, I thought you’d want as much sleep as you could get.” 

“I don’t sleep.”

“Does it look like I care that you’re drowned with work? That’s your own fault for trying to handle ten prisoners all by yourself. You’re not getting any pity from me.”

“Eh? No, I mean, I don’t sleep.”

Fuuta paused. “Stop fucking with me. I’m too tired for this crap.”

“I mean it. I was already awake when I heard someone up, I just wanted to investigate.”

“Bullshit. There’s no way you heard me from all the way down the hall, through that heavy door of yours. You’re probably hungry, too – but don’t get any ideas, these are mine.” He moved to the counter, transferring the food to another dish to heat. 

Es followed, their icy eyes flicking between him and the food. 

“You really prefer Mahiru’s cooking that much more?”

“Of course. Yours sucks. Don’t think I’ll give you any fake flattery just because you’re the warden.”

“I figured you would want me in charge of the kitchen instead of Jackalope. I’m just trying to help.”

“Tch. I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill us.”

“With my cooking?” A smirk stretched across their lips. “There are easier ways to kill a person.”

Es stared at him, that odd smile on their face.

Fuuta tried to smother the shiver creeping up his spine. 

They had to have been messing with him. This is just how a bored warden gets their kicks, he figured. They sneak up on unsuspecting prisoners in the middle of the night and say ominous things. They just liked bringing up murder to get under his skin. And of course they slept. They slept, ate, and – he looked down at the dish of food. He had seen them eat, right? He wracked his brain for any memory of it. It would explain the poor-tasting cooking…

“Ah!” Es’ voice made him jump for the second time that night. He followed their gaze over to the doorway, where Jackalope was hopping into the dim kitchen. 

Es began to speak into the silence. This type of craziness, at least, was a familiar one: their insistence that they could speak to the little animal.

“I know, I know. … Yes, of course. I’ll be finished here in a moment.”

Fuuta’s gaze flicked between the pair. Tiny, black, beady eyes. Large, pale, round ones. Jacklope’s twitchy little nose. The way Es seemed entirely motionless.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Fuuta grabbed the dish and stormed out of the room. He avoided meeting either set of eyes. Let them have their crazy, creepy conversations in the dark by themselves. He was out. 

Es’ voice echoed into the hallway as he hurried back to his cell. 

“Goodnight, Fuuta…” 

Fuuta tried not to look like a little kid running back through the darkened corridors, but he certainly didn’t take his time.

The sheets rustled around him as he got into. His back pressed against the cell wall, so he could keep an eye on the entrance. He strained his ears to listen for any unnaturally quiet steps.

Then he looked down at his food.

He had completely lost his appetite.

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #11: Fleurs Anciennes

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: Canon Lemon: lime CW: None

The sudden jolt from the train woke Elsa from her light doze. It no longer surprised her to suddenly wake from an unexpected nap, they happened often enough nowadays. Warm breath puffed against her neck. She looked down at Anna sleeping peacefully on her shoulder. Hair, having lost its bright red color to a snowy white years ago, tickled her nose and Elsa lifted a hand to caress her sister’s wrinkled cheek.

Tomorrow would be forty-five years together.

There were many things Elsa forgot over the years, the first time she used her powers, the sound of their parent’s voices, the names of the various princes who tried to court her. But she’d never forget Anna’s tearful confession that night in the library.

“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep pretending I only love you like a sister. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and take you to bed. If we could, I’d ask you to marry me and be by your side forever. I- I’m in love with you.”

Neither would she ever forget that first desperate, clumsy kiss, her response to Anna’s confession when words failed to move past her own lips. Now they were set to celebrate their anniversary at the Paris World’s Fair tomorrow. Yes, they would have to attend the opening celebration as Arendelle’s ceremonial ambassadors and stop by their country’s display but then the rest of the day, and the entire week afterwards, would belong to them.

Knock. Knock.

“Your Majesties, the train will be arriving in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, Tabatha.” Despite them both abdicating the throne fifteen years ago after Arendelle officially became a democracy, most citizens of Arendelle persisted in addressing them by their former royal title. 

“Annaaaa…” Gentle shaking of her sister’s knee. “It’s time to get up.”

“Five more minutes…” faint snores

It didn’t matter if Anna was five or sixty-five, waking her up tended to be a long, slow process. 

“Anna, we’re almost there.” Shake shake. “Time to wake up.” Shake.

“Ugh. Do I have to?” Anna sat up and tiredly rubbed her eyes.

“Yes, my love.” Years ago Elsa stopped trying to figure out how her sister’s hair could stand up on its own. “Turn your back towards me and I’ll fix your hair.”

“Hmmm, thank you.” 

Soft lips brushed against hers in a sleepy kiss. Before Anna could pull back, Elsa stopped her with a tender touch to her cheek and deepened the kiss.

“Oh,” wide, no longer sleepy, smile, “I’m awake now.”

“Good. Now turn around.”

“Right.” Anna stole one more quick kiss then she turned to face the window. 

Nimble fingers picked apart the untidy bun and smoothed down the wild locks.  Elsa fastened the last pin in Anna’s hair when the train began to slow its speed.

Paris. 

Though not their first time in the famous French city, they still eagerly watched people and carriages drift by on crowded streets. 

Elsa’s gaze moved from the window to watch the love of her life instead.

Teal eyes moved from the window and met hers. 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Elsa shrugged casually, “just enjoying the view.”

Eyes rolled but she didn’t miss the light dusting of pink on wrinkled cheeks.

Squealing brakes grew louder, signaling their final approach into the station. Shouts in French announcing, Elsa assumed since she didn’t speak the language, for all passengers to disembark for Paris could barely be heard over the hissing release of steam.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in.” 

Tabatha opened the compartment’s door, curtsied respectfully, then efficiently began gathering their personal belongings.

“Kaarina and Polk are going to the luggage car.”

“I can help with the bags, Tabatha.” 

“Please take your time; I will wait for you on the platform.” Another curtsy, and Tabatha, easily carrying three bags including her own, exited into the corridor. 

“Or not,” Anna grumbled.

Chuckling, Elsa rubbed her sister’s back comfortingly. Not once since Tabatha took over after Gerda’s retirement did she let either of them help with even the simple tasks. Absolute horror would be the only way she could describe the look on her face the first time they offered to help. She looked about ready to burst into tears when Gerda picked up their breakfast plates and declared Tabatha should ignore them. She followed that advice ever since.

They helped each other don their respective shawls; dark blue with Arendelle’s coat of arms stitched in silver thread for Elsa and the same for Anna but in dark green. 

Elsa’s eyes flicked to the compartment’s window and sighed unhappily.

This is why she preferred not to travel outside of Arendelle. Back home she could openly show affection for her sister and no one batted an eye at quick little pecks on the lips. Their relationship was an unacknowledged open secret. 

Anna passed over Elsa’s ice cane and they carefully made their way off the train. On the bustling platform they were greeted by a tall man in a perfectly tailored gray suit.

“His name is Radford, he welcomes us to Paris, and will escort us to the hotel,” Anna whispered in her ear.

The only foreign language Elsa could manage with ease was English while Anna had an ear for them and could freely converse in six different languages. An immensely helpful skill over the years when they traveled outside of Arendelle.

Once Kaarina and Polk arrived, both carrying a trunk, the small party followed Radford out of the station, over the wooden footbridge leading directly to the front steps of the Grand Hotel Terminus, and to the door of their suite on the top floor.

Anna smiled as she spoke with Radford.

Still unable to understand a word being said, Elsa’s gaze wandered to the lavishly decorated hallway lit by the new electric lights. She sighed enviously. Equipping the castle with these amazing electric lights would have to be a task for the next generation in charge of the castle. She’d looked into it already; cost and logistics made it impossible at this time. 

“Oui, Madam.” Radford handed Tabatha their room key.

Elsa’s attention returned to the tall man talking with her sister.

“Passe un bon séjour s'il te plaît.” He bowed deeply then walked briskly back to the elevator.

“He said for us to enjoy our stay.” 

Tabatha unlocked the door and held it open for them to enter.

There were advantages to being known as the old, eccentric, spinster sisters. No one questioned them insisting on only having their own servants take care of things. Pretending to sleep in different beds, keeping a respectful distance, curbing the affectionate little touches, anything that an unknown, foreign servant might find odd didn’t matter. 

Kaarina, Polk, and Tabatha walked right into the larger bedroom to deposit the luggage.

“I asked for dinner to be brought up to our room in thirty minutes. Unless you wanted to go out?” 

“No.” Now in the privacy of their room, Elsa leaned her cane against a nearby wingback chair and wrapped her arms around Anna’s neck. Three weeks of foreign guests and preparations for this trip had left them with horribly little alone time together. She had no intention of squandering this time with eating out.

“Good.” Anna’s arms wrapped around Elsa’s waist and pulled her close. “An evening alone with you sounds wonderful.”

Lips brushed against hers.

“Absolutely wonderful.” The whispered words were barely audible.

“Ahem.”

Elsa turned her head to smile at Kaarina and Polk. Years of having servants walk in on them kissing ceased to cause embarrassment anymore.

“Tabatha is unpacking your trunks, Your Majesties.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your stay with your cousin…” Elsa searched her memory, “Marie, was it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Kaarina grinned widely. “It’s been five years since we’ve seen her and the kids.”

“Have a pleasant visit. We will see you on the fourteenth.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Both bowed then hastily exited from the room.

“I guess they were eager to start their holiday,” Elsa chuckled. 

“Mmmm…” Anna placed a lingering kiss on Elsa’s neck. “They aren’t the only ones.”

“Tabatha is still here.” Her cheeks warmed. Quick, little licks were added to the kisses landing on her neck. Elsa’s knees wobbled.

“There’s a spare bedroom.”

Forty-five years together and Anna was still temptation on two legs.

“N-no.” Elsa stepped back out of her sister’s arms. They were dirty from traveling all day, they didn’t have dinner yet, they were not alone… and there was an unoccupied spare bedroom.

Distraction.

They both needed a distraction.

Eyes flicked around the room. The balcony was out, the evening was still fairly chilly and she did not want to chance Anna getting ill. The dining area was also out, while beautiful with its intricately carved table and chairs, no distractions could be seen. The spare bedroom was absolutely off limits. The seating area… 

She had never been so grateful to see a tiny stack of letters before.

“We have correspondence to answer.”

“Of course we do.” Anna handed Elsa her cane and they walked over to the ornate desk. “Do we need to accept any of these?”

“No.” She quickly looked through them before handing them over. Luckily, there were only four letters. Unluckily, they were certainly all in a different language, meaning Anna would have to answer them herself. 

“Do I need to add anything special?” In the drawer Anna found a letter opener and began breaking the seals.

“No, just the standard declining of the invitation.” 

With nothing to do while Anna wrote, Elsa wondered about the room. Electric lights glowed bright as the sun began to set. Again, she wished it were possible to equip Arendelle Castle with such technology. There was even a telephone to communicate directly with the service staff. A truly marvelous new hotel.

On the dining room table she spotted her book. Tabatha must have set it there earlier.

Elsa retrieved it and settled onto the comfortable Chesterfield, eager to read more of the new character detective Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson.

Fully immersed in the story, the knock on the door with their dinner nearly caused Elsa to drop her book.

“Careful there, don’t want to lose your place.”

“Anna!” This time she did drop her book. Elsa turned to see her sister sitting beside her. “How long have you been there?”

“About ten minutes, I guess,” she chuckled and picked up Elsa’s book. “This must be good. I’ll have to read this after you.”

“Your Majesties, dinner is served.”

“Thank you, Tabatha.” Anna handed over the ice cane and escorted Elsa, still a bit dazed from being startled from her book so suddenly, to the table.

They sat down to two plates of steamed salmon, rice, and mushrooms. Conversation flowed easily from one topic to another; the opening ceremony for the World’s Fair tomorrow (“Ugh. I don’t want to get up that early. Can we skip it?”), things they were missing in Arendelle (“Kristoff was so excited. He and Bonnie get the grandkids for two weeks!”), books they had read (“That Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde book was creepy.”), what they would like to do during their week in Paris (“Could we go to the Louvre? We missed it last time.”), and even who to extend invitations to Arendelle next (“Ariel and Eric or Belle and Adam?”).

“I have drawn your bath. Is there anything you require of me before I bid you goodnight?” Tabatha folded her hands primly in front of her, ready to fulfill any request they might have.

“No, that will be all for the night.” Elsa smiled, eager to soak in the hot water. 

“Very well. Pleasant dreams, Your Majesties.” She gathered the empty plates to drop off on the way to her own room.

“Sweet dreams! Feel free to sleep in tomorrow.” Anna grinned hopefully.

Elsa rolled her eyes.

“Goodnight, Tabatha. We’ll see you early tomorrow morning.”

“What do you two have against sleep?” They both ignored Anna’s muttering though Elsa caught a slight quirk of the servant’s lips.

Tabatha bobbed a curtsy and silently left the room.

“Now,” Elsa grabbed her cane and began walking to the bathroom, “you can continue grumbling or you can join me for a bath.”

“Bath.” Footsteps hurried after her. “Definitely the bath.”

* * * * * 

Elsa concentrated on keeping her balance without the aid of a cane while she dried her hair. She hummed contentedly at finally feeling clean for the first time since they left Arendelle. Getting to lay in Anna’s arms for the last fifteen minutes while the water cooled had been exactly what she needed. Travel never allowed them much privacy and they’d been traveling for four days. 

Carefully, she stepped over to the counter with her cane. Elsa stopped halfway there. A full length mirror, fogged only along its edges with condensation, reflected her image back at her. Back in Arendelle, the candlelight did not shine nearly as brightly as these electric lights and every aging imperfection was perfectly illuminated in this light. Her once slim, hourglass figure now carried a bit more weight about her stomach and thighs, her breasts sagged and she now required undergarments for her clothes to fit correctly, and wrinkles were no longer confined to her face, they now covered her whole body.

She frowned.

Arms wrapped around Elsa from behind.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

“I don’t know about-“

“Ah ah ah.” Anna’s hand covered Elsa’s mouth, stopping her words. “What have I said? I will not tolerate anyone speaking badly about the woman I love even…” she removed her hand.

Elsa sighed.

“Ahem,” Anna raised an eyebrow.

“…even if that’s me.” Warmth spread at the sincerity of Anna’s smile.

“That’s right.” She placed a kiss on Elsa’s bare shoulder.

Turning around in Anna’s arms, Elsa leaned in and kissed her, taking time to slowly deepen it. Every single day this wonderful woman showed her how incredibly loved she was. 

“You know…” Elsa brushed her lips along a very familiar jaw. “We’re finally alone. No foreign visitors, no servants, no responsibilities until tomorrow…”

“Hmmm…” Eyes closed.

“The bed looked quite comfortable.”

“It is time for bed.” Anna’s hands rested decidedly lower than Elsa’s waist.

Arms resting on Anna’s shoulders, Elsa pressed her firmly backwards out of the bathroom. They could get her cane later.

Much later.

* * * * *

Elsa concentrated on Anna’s whispered translation of the opening ceremony of the World’s Fair and not the engineering marvel of the Eiffel Tower towering over them. These speeches all followed the same script welcoming the politicians who supported the event, thanking the major donors by name, claiming this to be the event of the century, and all punctuated with long pauses for expected clapping. They both sat through too many of these sorts of ceremonies in their life.

Finally the last speaker invited the crowd to enjoy the World’s Fair and bowed to thunderous applause.

People around them wasted no time in standing to find their friends and not going through the entrance, this crowd didn’t seem particularly eager to join the masses of regular citizens streaming into the event.

Once the initial rush died down, they wove their way around chairs and groups of boisterous people.

“Queen Elsa! Queen Anna!” called a deep voice in English.

Two heads turned as one to see a clean shaven, silver-haired gentleman with golden spectacles hurry their way.

“Richard!” Anna hugged the man the instant he reached them.

“It is wonderful to see you ladies here.” Richard hugged Elsa next, his laughter carrying over the din of conversation.

“I didn’t expect to see you.” Why had England’s longtime Ambassador to Arendelle shown up here? Elsa knew nearly all of Europe’s monarchies refused to participate in this World’s Fair celebration of the French Revolution.

“Don’t tell Queen Victoria,” he whispered mischievously. “Mildred wanted to hear Thomas Edison’s new phonograph.”

“Where is that lovely wife of yours?” Anna looked quite serious, “someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, I completely agree, Your Majesty.” 

“Mildred!” Anna turned to face her best friend.

“Hello, Anna.” They hugged tightly, delighted smiles on both their faces. “How was your trip over?”

“Not too bad!” With that the two excitedly began chatting about their trips.

“You would think our wives hadn’t seen each other in months and not two weeks,” Richard whispered in Elsa’s ear.

Both shared an amused look.

Elsa watched the two best friends quickly catch up, old memories surfacing. Decades ago, Richard introduced the younger woman from town he had begun courting and the two women connected immediately. After that, Elsa no longer felt guilty the few times she and Richard needed to discuss matters of state over dinner. Anna and Mildred could, and still did, enjoy each other’s company for hours.

“Do you think they remember we’re here?” Elsa whispered back.

“Absolutely not.”

They laughed at the old shared joke.

“I think they’re laughing at us, Anna.”

“Yup. They certainly are.” 

“We would never laugh at you.” Elsa tried her best to keep the smile off her face. 

“Uh huh.” Anna rolled her eyes and turned her focus to Richard. “How long will you be in France?”

“Two weeks, then we return to Arendelle.”

“We’re here for a week. Maybe we can meet up for dinner one night?” Anna asked hopefully.

“I don’t think we have anything planned for Thursday, if you’re free.” Mildred stood at her husband’s side and slipped an arm through his.

“We are free.” Dinners with their closest friends were always a pleasure. “We can meet- OH!”

Something hit her side hard causing Elsa to drop her cane as she fell sideways.  She closed her eyes preparing for the painful impact of hard ground.

It never came.

Relief flooded Elsa when two familiar arms caught her.

“Are you alright?” 

Elsa could only nod, her heart racing from the scare.

“Good. Good.” The shaky sigh of relief told Elsa that the near-fall scared her sister, too.

Once upright, Elsa turned to see what knocked into her. On the ground lay a laughing young man reeking of wine.

“Pardon, pardon!” More laughter.

Barely nine in the morning and this stranger was already falling down drunk. Elsa held onto Anna’s arm tightly, her sister looking ready to kick the drunk man while he was still on the ground.

“Pardon!” He still giggled as he reached for the dropped cane.

“It’s okay, I can-”

“Don’t touch-“

“I wouldn’t do-“

Three voices tried to stop the man before he touched it, though Anna remained silent, her glare intense.

“Glacé!” He dropped it immediately and shook his hand. “Glacé!”

“No, no.” Richard helped the drunk man up. “Amis?”

“Quel?”

“Amis.”

“Oh.” The young man gestured vaguely behind him.

“We will take him back to his friends. Which hotel are you staying at?” Mildred asked after positioning herself at the man’s other side. It obviously would take both of them to get him anywhere.

“The Grand Hotel Terminus.” Elsa spoke up as Anna remained silent and glaring.

“We’ll meet you there before going to dinner. Does five o’clock sound fine?”

“Perfect. We will see you at five. Enjoy the World’s Fair.”

Once the three started walking over to a group of laughing and pointing people, Anna leaned down to pick up the ice cane muttering something that suspiciously sounded like ‘I should have accidentally stepped on him,’ which Elsa chose to ignore. Anna’s protectiveness, which started prior to their relationship, had not waned over the years and, honestly, neither had her own. She probably would have discreetly frozen his feet to the ground and iced his undergarments had it been Anna he knocked down.

“Here.” Anna handed her the cane.

“Thank you, my love.”

Anna smiled at the term of endearment. 

Now that her sister no longer looked ready to find that young man and punch him, Elsa hooked their arms together and directed their steps to where Arendelle’s pavilion lay. She would have loved to stay and take in the Eiffel Tower but there were other days for that, distracting Anna was more important and they would have to walk right through the, reportedly, stunning garden exhibits. The gardens back home were Anna’s favorite place to be, to the point where, decades ago, the gardeners cleared an area just for her use. 

“Don’t you want to-“

“Tomorrow.” She kept moving them forward. “We should start making our way over.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Mmhmm.”

They were only six meters into the garden area when Anna’s eyes widened and her head started swiveling back and forth trying to take everything in. 

Even Elsa, with only a casual enjoyment of gardens, could see how breathtaking these displays were. Flowers exploded with color everywhere, tall green bushes hid the rest of the World’s Fair from view, beautifully carved fountains bubbled noisily, and butterflies could be seen fluttering from plant to plant. They strolled slowly through this second Garden of Eden without saying a word.

About halfway through the exhibit, she saw a stall down a side path and immediately decided that she needed to distract Anna so she could sneak back.

It seemed luck was on her side today. 

One of the many roaming gardeners paused to prune a yellow rose bush. 

“Anna, do you mind if we stop for a few minutes? There’s an empty bench here and I’m a little tired.”

“Of course,” her sister frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she couldn’t help chuckling before continuing, “someone kept me up late last night.”

“That was your own fault,” Anna purred in her ear and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

Elsa could feel her face warm up in a blush and she swallowed thickly.

“Y-y-yes. R-right.” All those years together and Anna could still fluster her with just a few words.

“Let’s get to that bench before anyone else, you seducer of younger women.” 

Completely speechless and face burning with heat, Elsa silently walked with Anna to the bench.

“Wait. I’m the only one who needs to rest,” the croaky sound of her voice betrayed her continued flustered state. “Why don’t you go look at the displays?”

“Are you sure?” Anna looked torn between staying with her and examining the garden displays.

“I’ll be fine. I just need a little rest.” She sat down and patted Anna’s side. “Go. Have fun.”

“Okay.” 

Elsa watched and waited.

Once her sister found herself no longer confined to the castle, her cheerful personality and eagerness to try new things helped her quickly learn the social skills they lacked after thirteen years of isolation. People naturally felt at ease around her and Anna enjoyed getting to know new people. There had been many times while Queen that Elsa used this to ease prickly meetings. They would both enter a room and before a word could be said, Kai would interrupt with a made up emergency that required Elsa’s urgent attention. By the time she returned ten minutes later, without fail, there would be smiles all around the room and the meeting would actually be productive.

It would only take Anna a few minutes to work her magic on the gardener then she’d be free to sneak away unnoticed.

Once the gardener nodded rapidly and started pointing at plants, Elsa stood and walked the two dozen steps to the side pathway spotted earlier. Another few dozen steps and Elsa reached the large wooden stall. The rich scent of chocolate filled the air and she pored over each of the five different assortment of chocolate boxes displayed. One glance at the chocolates in the purple box was all she needed. 

Box purchased and tucked in the small cloth bag at her wrist, which now held a discrete enchantment to keep it cool, Elsa hurried back to the bench. She needn’t have rushed. Anna and the gardener were still deep in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. After five more minutes, and hating to break them up, she stood and called her sister over.

“Yes, Elsa?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, however, we should be going.”

“That’s alright.” Anna linked their arms together and they resumed their walk.

“It looked like a good conversation?” If the last five minutes she saw were any indication it was.

“Yup! Gustav is a third generation gardener and came all the way from Bourges to be part of this. He was telling me…” Anna began excitedly sharing her conversation with Gustav.

Anna talked about all she learned and how that might work in her own garden while they walked. Even though she probably only understood about fifty percent of the information, Elsa still contentedly listened and asked questions.

After twenty minutes their destination came into view.

“Oh, wow.”

Elsa could only nod in agreement.

Being a small, relatively unknown nation, Arendelle had been placed behind the other well known countries. The wooden structure before them was larger than most of the buildings back home. Expertly made carvings of the native animals decorated the four doorways, the traditional design found on most buildings of crocuses, straight lines, and chevrons painted in blues and purples decorated the whitewashed walls, and teal tiles sat on the roof instead of the more common brown. Multiple tiered sections of roof with pointed spires and the small balcony over the door on which a banner of Arendelle’s time-honored crest hung, gave Elsa the impression of her Ice Palace meshed with traditional Arendelle buildings. 

What took their breath away were the hundreds, if not thousands, of crocuses surrounding the building on all sides. They weren’t the common royal purple found everywhere, but the color of snow. They were so rare in Arendelle that local legend said they only grew outside of town, atop a specific hill, under an ancient tree because that was where two sisters promised each other a lifetime’s fidelity. The area could now be found on local maps as ‘The Queen’s Joy.’ Little did the town’s people know that every year Elsa and Anna would go to that hill and plant seeds harvested from those same flowers.

Tears pricked Elsa’s eyes.

“Queen Elsa! Queen Anna! You made it!” An older woman with gray hair hustled down the steps over to them.

“This is beautiful, Helga.” Elsa’s voice softened. “Thank you.”

“You both are so much a part of Arendelle and we wanted to show that.” Helga grinned, obviously happy at their awed reactions. 

“I knew the committee chose the right person!” Hugs all around as they praised the Master Carpenter even more, causing her to blush.

“Thank you both for recommending me. But I do have one favor to ask of you, Queen Elsa.” Helga looked hopefully over.

“If I can grant it, I will.” She wondered what it could be.

“In the initial plans, we included elements that were to mimic your ice designs. None of the prototypes worked so we scrapped it. Do you think… maybe…” 

Back when Elsa realized more and more people not from Arendelle believed the stories of her powers were just myths, she stopped using them outside of Arendelle lest they put a target on her, and thus her home, by some power-hungry nation.

Elsa looked around. 

There were no visitors this far back yet. Most of the crowd had headed to The Gallery of Machines and the few walking to the pavilions certainly were visiting the massive, beautiful building Argentina built. 

“Did you have something in mind?” Ideas sprung up immediately and she tried to ignore them.

“I’ll leave that to you, Your Majesty. I do have one small request though.” Helga nervously shifted from foot to foot.

“Yes?”

“Could you put your snowflake on the middle spire in front?”

“I can do that.”

“Wonderful!” Wide waving of Helga’s right arm caught her eye.

People streamed past until all thirty or so workers stood behind them.

“I suppose everyone is here now?” Apparently the movements Elsa had assumed to be work being done was actually them waiting for Helga’s signal. She heard Anna snicker beside her.

“Ahem, yes.” 

“Is the area still clear?” Elsa asked loudly. Too many people surrounded her to see for herself.

Once the hum of multiple ‘yes’ responses died down, Elsa handed Anna her bag and cane.

Hands moved in a tight circle and her magic, as strong as ever, danced around her fingertips. The image of what Elsa wished for the magic to do set, she pushed her hands out sending it barreling to the building’s middle spire, she floated one hand down and the other up, coaxing the ice into shape.

Ice swirled up each of the fifteen spires, the tallest one proudly displaying Elsa’s snowflake, teal roof tiles sparkled with flecks of ice, enough to glitter in the sunlight though not enough to be dangerous should any repairs be needed. From the top of the walls down until around ten feet above the ground, flat clear ice shaped as snowflakes glinted in the sun.  Now the white crocuses thickly covering the ground looked more like snow than living plants. 

Satisfied with how her added decorations looked, Elsa twirled her hands once more.

“The ice should only melt when you begin taking down the pavilion.”

Silence. 

More silence.

Too much silence.

Elsa began to worry.

Cheers suddenly shattered the silence.

Helga waited a full minute before shouting over the noise.

“Okay everyone, back to work!”

“Oh wow, that was amazing!”

“It’s been years since I’ve seen Queen Elsa use her powers.”

“I can’t wait to write to my husband back home about this.”

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

“That made this whole job worth it.”

“Thank you so much, Queen Elsa. This is perfect. Though I’m sorry, I have to get back. A display board fell just before you arrived.”

“Forgive us for interrupting your work.” Anna apologized and handed Elsa back her cane and her bag.

“No need to, Your Majesties. It is always a pleasure. Besides,” she glanced back to the building, “they’re smiling now instead of looking nervous. Thank you.” Helga bobbed a curtsy and hurried back.

“I see a bench. Would you like to sit down? It was kind of a long walk.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” Despite their leisurely pace over, it had been a long walk and their commitments as Arendelle’s ceremonial ambassadors were now complete; they had nowhere else to be and a real rest sounded sublime.

“Your bag felt heavier than from this morning.” Anna commented once they sat on the bench nearby. “Please tell me you snuck in your book. I can’t wait for my turn.”

Elsa had planned to give her sister the box back in their room but here would be nice too. She pulled the cool box out of her bag and turned to face Anna.

“Are those for me?” She looked hopeful, no doubt catching a whiff of chocolate.

“Of course.” Handing the box over, Elsa could not help smiling at Anna’s excitement when opening it. Some things never changed.

“Flowers.”

Indeed they were. Twelve rose shaped, red tinted, chocolates lay on a bed of shredded paper.

Taking a quick look around and still only seeing people from Arendelle, Elsa leaned in and kissed Anna’s soft lips. Fingers tenderly caressed the back of her neck.

Every year Elsa would, without fail, give Anna flowers on their anniversary. One year an orchid lovingly cared for in a greenhouse, another year jewelry straight away deemed too special to be worn everyday, even a book of collected poetry which lived on her bedside table for the past twenty-three years… each flower-themed gift cherished beyond measure.

They reluctantly pulled apart, remembering they were outside, and snuggled comfortably together. 

There would be time for more later.

[franstastic-ideas]

Present Day, Present Time

Undertale - A few months after the barrier is broken, on Christmas day, Frisk gifts Sans with the Reset button as a sign of trust and goodwill between them, telling him it’s his now: to use, to keep, or to destroy. It’s his power now. It may be the best gift Sans has ever received. Sans finally feels like he can move forward.

And he can feel in his SOUL that he wants to move forward with Frisk.

Word Count: 20,603

@nuvex Surprise! I was your Secret Santa for the Gyftmas event! I’n so, so, SO sorry about the long, loooooong, delay! *hysterical sobbing*

Also, this counts as the season prompt for Fransweek, doesn’t it?

Credits for OCs go to @koiikun for Peter and Charlotte, @semisolidmind for Irene, Edgar and Elizabeth, @undertalepre2re for Daddy Longlegs, @eddieveneziano for Spinerette, and @lostmypotatoes for Ku-Mo

Webber and Julian belong to me.

Even prior to the breaking of the barrier, there were an immense number of things that Frisk wanted to experience alongside her monster friends after reaching the surface.

 Going on picnics in the spring, trips to the beach during the summer, jumping in piles of leaves when autumn arrived, and playing in the snow when winter came, organizing ladies’ nights and sleepovers with the girls, celebrating one another’s birthdays...

 But what she looked forward to most was spending Gyftmas with them.

 As it turned out, the monsters celebrated their own wintertime holiday comparable to the surface world’s Christmas, or Hanukkah, or sometimes Kwanza. She had learned of this during her stay in Snowdin Town, a little village located in the snowy section of the Underground that was decorated as though the inhabitants celebrated Gyftmas every day. It was just September when she had first traversed into the town, but all the preparations for the occasion had already been made, completed by a towering tree adorned with an assortment of ornaments that served as the location’s centerpiece, along with plentiful piles of presents lying underneath bearing tags with the names of all the monsters who lived there.

 She supposed even monsterkind wasn’t immune to the widespread seasonal phenomenon commonly referred to as ‘the Christmas creep’.

 Frisk had fallen victim to it as well. The very instant that Sans, Papyrus, and then Undyne, followed by the rest of her new pals did the jimpity jumpity joodle, the limpity loppity leap (as her fishy friend would say) directly into her heart, her mind instantly began to drift towards thoughts of what she was going to give each of them when the month of December arrived. Though she certainly didn’t have much concerning funds at the time, Frisk was still a generous person by nature – there was little that made her happier than watching the expression of wonder and then delight that crossed the recipient’s face as they unwrapped and unboxed their gift.

 Surface or no surface, Frisk was determined to spend the holiday season with her friends, even if it meant plunging into the depths of the Underground a second time with a fully loaded sack of presents slung over her shoulder to do so. Thankfully, it never came to that – with the assistance of Prince Asriel, the six SOULs of the previous fallen humans, and the added SOULS of every single monster in the Underground, the barrier was finally broken for good, so she and everyone else could reach the surface and get to celebrate their first Gyftmas above ground.

 Yes, even Flowey – as much as he denied it, she knew that much of Asriel was still hiding behind the sour personality of that foul flower.

 She wasn’t about to let one rotten apple hinder her or himself from enjoying a slice of the warm apple pie that was the wholesome found-family Gyftmas gathering she was doing her best to serve everyone.

 Sans hadn’t exactly been thrilled with the idea of him partaking in the festivities, even though Frisk had thought that he shouldn’t even remember who Flowey was. She supposed that the negative impressions Flowey left on him in the RESETs of the past, prior to her gaining the power to turn back time from her floral friend, had somehow left a permanent imprint on the skeleton; similar to how Toriel inexplicably recalled that she preferred cinnamon over butterscotch, along with a plethora of other phantom memories the monsters she closely interacted with experienced throughout the courses of her subterranean adventure.

 Flowey had been extremely reluctant to leave his previous spot in the empty Underground. He had stayed behind by choice, after all. However, the frequent offers she made during her continuous visits eventually wore him down, and he said he would go with her under one stipulation – that his true identity remained a secret between the two of them. She agreed to his terms, and Flowey allowed her to take him to the surface to join the rest of her companions – he even willingly climbed into the flowerpot she bought and brought just for him!

 Frisk and Toriel shared dual custody of him - the kind goat lady apparently saw the good inside him that he so desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist, and decided to welcome him into her home whenever he wished to visit. Flowey unexpectedly took her up on the invitation, showing minimal resistance to the idea before accepting. Perhaps he missed his mother more than he initially thought.

 This is what Frisk believed, and not without good reason. One Sunday afternoon just a few weeks ago, the queen of monsters invited the two over for tea and cookies. Everything had been relatively peaceful, nothing out of the ordinary – all until Toriel had wordlessly placed another one of the sweets on Flowey’s plate, unprompted.

 The words ‘Thank you, mama’ had instinctively escaped his mouth before he could stop them. Toriel was touched at hearing that, no matter how accidental it may have been, feeling as though the usually bad-tempered little flower had finally warmed up to her.

 But for him, it was excruciatingly painful. He was dead silent for the rest of the time spent in her company and swiftly requested to go home with Frisk once they finished their snacks. The sweet goat lady saw nothing wrong with his behavior, simply assuming that his little slip of the tongue had embarrassed him.

 In actuality, the very instant Frisk stepped into her own home and locked the door behind them, Flowey had burst into a hysterical fit of tears, sobbing as he whispered ‘mama’ under his breath, over and over again before crying out, ‘I miss my mama!’.

 After he had calmed down considerably, Frisk never once leaving his side the whole while, he once again asserted that he wasn’t going to tell Toriel or Asgore the truth. However, Flowey then said afterwards that, perhaps one day, he may. Just not now. He wasn’t ready yet, and he doubted they were either.

 Frisk had been nothing but supportive, assuring Flowey that it was fine for him to take as long as he needed in sorting out his feelings towards the matter, to which he again stated as he so often had in the past that he had no feelings left anymore. That was a lie. A lie that the both of them obviously knew wasn’t true.

 Someone with no emotions inside them wouldn’t show visible delight when biting into homemade cookies and pie, nor would they shriek with blatant terror when startled by a cheap jumpscare tactic in a poorly made horror flick during movie night every other Friday, or display signs of what could only be described as intense jealousy when their best and only friend is constantly being ‘stolen away’, from their perspective, by a lazy, ketchup-chugging, pun-spewing bag of bones.

 Someone with nothing left to feel wouldn’t wail for his mother during a rare moment of vulnerability.

 Frisk wholeheartedly enjoyed each and every second she spent in Flowey’s presence, much to the actually rather understandable perplexity of some of her other friends. She could state countless reasons as to why she would feel this way, but one of them was; hearing the sound of his voice made this big house of hers feel less empty.

 Several weeks after gaining the official position of ambassador of monsterkind, Frisk had woken up to the unexpected surprise of receiving an expensive estate in a basically brand-new neighborhood. It was undoubtedly worth thousands, maybe even millions, and just staring at it made her feel as though she were glimpsing into a luxurious world she didn’t and never would belong in. She wanted to gently decline the deed, feeling as though she did nothing to deserve it, but as if anticipating this sort of response, the agent who escorted her to the place informed her that the fully-furnished house and the plot of land it stood on was meant to be a gift; purchased with the gold of not only the king and queen, but the funds of each and every single freed monster. They had unanimously come to the agreement to band together in a collective effort to provide her a better home than the one she had lived in prior.

 To turn down such a thoughtful gesture after so much preparation had gone into even making it possible, such a thing would have been incomparably rude to do.

 A few months later, and Frisk was still unsure of how they learned of her whereabouts, a dingy old apartment building several towns over located directly in the middle of an unsafe precinct where robberies and other crimes were regularly reported. But someone had discovered her secret, despite her dedicated efforts at dodging their numerous questions concerning the subject.

 There had been a few occasions back then where, when returning from one of her hangouts with her monster friends, Frisk felt a similar sensation to being followed. She never did catch a glance at her pursuer during those times, but she supposed it didn’t really matter – not once did she ever feel as though she were in any danger when sensing the presence of this other person. Quite the opposite, in fact, as utterly insane as she knew it may have sounded.

 Frisk chose not to mention the fact that she may or may not have been dealing with a mysterious stalker to her friends, since she had already worried them enough when they found out where she lived. What followed came countless offers for her to stay the night or even a few days in one of their residences, to which she always attempted to decline, not wanting to impose on her friends. But some of them, like Undyne, Toriel, Muffet, and unpredictably Sans, of all monsters, would not take ‘no’ for an answer. All of them felt as though they could finally put their fears to rest when she stepped out of that building that looked as though it were falling apart at the seams for the last time, and into her safe and cozy new home they had so lovingly furnished for the first.

 Sans had surprisingly been the one to accompany her then, assisting her in gathering up what little belongings she owned to transport them to the house awaiting her. The reason why it had shocked her so much at the time was, the smiley skeleton was well renown as having a laid-back, lax nature; or as Undyne, his brother, and several regulars at Grillby’s would word it – lazy.

 But that day, something about the skeleton she thought she knew was deadly serious. His expression seemed to frequently bounce between anticipation and dread, happily helping her with shoving clothes and other accessories into suitcases while also glancing around the area every few minutes with a chilling glare, as if daring some unseen enemy to reveal themselves to him. Even he had breathed a sigh of relief that day, once the task was done and over with.

 And not long after that, Sans and Papyrus had managed to acquire an abode of their own as well – directly next to hers.

 She had thought that with a vast new world to explore, all the monsters she had met and come to know would have eventually scattered across the globe as soon as the opportunity arose. And some of them did, but not any of her closest friends she had made on her adventure - they had decided to take up residence in this town, not ten miles away from the mountain they were imprisoned within. And even the ones that went elsewhere would eventually wander back on occasion, if only to say ‘hello’.

 It didn’t make much sense to her, but when Frisk finally summoned the nerve to ask, all of them gave her the exact same answer,

 “We just wanted to be close to you.”

 And this claim of theirs must have been true, because when the time came for her to send out the Gyftmas party invitations, every single monster responded with a guarantee in some manner or another that they would be there.

 But could she actually manage to squeeze the entirety of the monster population and then some under one roof, specifically hers?

 Frisk was about to find out.

 Some of them jokingly warned her when they discovered just how long the guest list was supposed to be that she was definitely going to regret this, that a celebration this grand scale was bound to bring the house down in the most literal definition imaginable (thanks, Sans). She held no doubts that the party was going to be chaotic, but she sincerely believed that what was to come would be a chaos of the beautiful sort.

 This being proven to be correct was all that she really wanted for Gyftmas.

 Even after telling them this, they were still going well out of their way to get her some sort of present for the festivity. Frisk believed the lavish house was enough to compensate for every single Gyftmas, birthday, and any other holiday that would come to pass for the remainder of her life, but no, the monsters demonstrated they could be just as determined as she was when it came to expressing their gratitude towards her for everything the human girl had done for them, in and out of the Underground.

 Apparently, Undyne and Mettaton were even going so far as making some sort of competition out of who could give Frisk the best gift, and it was also apparently growing more and more intense between them each day as the date of the party approached. She hoped they didn’t expect her to play the role of judge in this silly contest of theirs, because she couldn’t possibly do that, ever – Frisk was certain that she would love both their gifts with equal enthusiasm. She additionally hoped they hadn’t gone overboard with the holiday shopping in their quest of earning her approval, because the two were well known to be mercilessly competitive and had a history of overspending according to their own friends and relatives.

 Mettaton may be able to flaunt and throw around all the wealth that came from being a sensational star whenever he pleases, but that still doesn’t mean that he should, and Frisk felt that Undyne really needed to start investing her earnings in an emergency fund of some sort, because she’s already almost burned her house to a crisp while cooking a grand total of eight times since finding a place to live on the surface.

 She’s going to need that money when the time eventually comes that Undyne does reduce it down to nothing more than smoking splinters and the very foundation it stands upon in one gigantic fiery explosion, and it was becoming more and more clear to Frisk that the fish woman’s house regularly being engulfed in flames was just one of those inevitable aspects of life that refused to change, in spite of her attempts...

 That’s why after the second time it happened, Frisk jumped for getting the local and friendly fire department’s number on speed dial on both their phones. Undyne and the entire force were practically on a first name basis with each other at this point.

 But Undyne refrained from ever cooking at other people’s houses, even when it was requested of her by some incredibly brave or very foolish SOUL with nothing to lose; she only did so at her own. That’s probably what upset Frisk the most – she was actively aware that her ventures in the culinary world were deadly in dual senses, and yet that didn’t seem to stop her in the slightest when it came to pursuing her passion. Frisk supposed there was something admirable to be found in that, somewhere...

 And while it appeared that Undyne’s skills in the kitchen were getting worse and worse, Papyrus’s were only getting better, even without any comparison needed.

 He improved so much, in fact, that Frisk asked him if he would like to be one of the head chefs in providing catering for her guests at the upcoming party, alongside Grillby, Muffet, and Toriel. He gratefully accepted the position with tears flowing from his sockets like geysers, picking her up in one swift motion and swinging her around and around until it nearly made her stomach turn. He promised her that this would be the best Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had, to which she reminded him that this would be the first Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had. If anything, this only spurred Papyrus to put even more passion into his own culinary studies, so his cuisines would be guaranteed to leave a good impression on her human taste buds.

 Gyftmas, Christmas – though the two holidays were relatively the same in spirit, what Frisk had told him was not lacking in truth...

 Even long before the date of their wintertime gathering, there was still plenty to do. She began her search for gifts almost as soon as the barrier had been broken, but the preparations for the gradually approaching party had commenced as briskly as the day after Halloween. Of course, there was also Thanksgiving to think about then; they came together at that time as well, at Toriel’s house, but the number of those attending had been much smaller than the total count that was to be present at Frisk’s party, since many monsters had chosen to celebrate the occasion with their respective families.

 That was why the sheer amount of replies that she received in respondence to the invitations astounded her as much as it did.

 But when the 25th finally came, Frisk couldn’t have been more pleased by the nothing short of massive turnout.

 The guests began arriving as early as seven in the morning. The event didn’t even officially start until nine, but some of them had showed up early because they wanted an opportunity to talk with their beloved ambassador a bit before the celebration became too crowded and hectic to anymore.

 She had woken up a few minutes after six that morning for some last-minute arrangements when Frisk spotted a familiar round skeletal face in the window of the house immediately across from her own. Hers and Sans’s bedrooms faced one another, the space between them not ten feet apart, and the two had carried out entire conversations from their respective windowsills before – fairly often, in truth.

 Such a conversation occurred on the dawn of that special snowy morning, surprisingly. Frisk would have been willing to bet that she wouldn’t be seeing him around until after the start of the party a few hours later.

 He grinned and tapped on the surface of the frosted and fogged over glass in swift succession with a single phalange before opening his window, silently urging her to do the same with her own. She did so, a gust of cool wintery air flowing into the room, and spoke the first thing that came to mind.

 “You’re up unexpectedly early today.”

 “paps got me up and out of bed as soon as he realized the hours were in the a.m. and the date had changed.” Sans yawned, just barely managing to cover his mouth, then added, “and that was almost a few minutes after midnight, but about a whole gallon of warm milk later, and i got him to go back to sleep. honestly, that was probably the real gyftmas miracle – as beat as paps was, he denied it to the bitter end and tried to fight off the sleepies to his last ‘nyeh’.”

 “That definitely sounds like something he would do.” The mental image of Papyrus suddenly yanking the shorter skeleton off his mattress and dragging Sans behind him down the stairs to the living room in the middle of the night was worth a chuckle, as exhausted as she knew Sans must be right now. “Was he trying to catch a peep at ‘Santa’ in action? Or should I say, ‘Sansta’?”

 “nah. he hasn’t tried to capture santa since we were pretty much babybones.” He gave a sleepy chuckle.

 “...Capture? ...Santa?” She uttered inquisitively with an arched eyebrow, but he didn’t provide her with any more details on that bizarre little response.

 “gyftmas eve is the one night a year that paps makes an honest effort to go to bed early and get some real sleep, ‘cause he’s worried that santa will pass our house up if he doesn’t. but his excitement, his insomnia, and the anxiety over what he thinks will happen if he isn’t sleeping ironically keeps him awake. we go through this every year. i already mentioned the milk, but it took a whole pile and a few hours of bedtime stories to knock him out this one, though.”

 “You’re probably already aware of this, Sans, but... you look really tired.” The dark circles under his sockets were a few shades darker, more prominent than usual, and as she said this, another long, deep yawn escaped his gaping maw. “You know, you could go back to bed and get some sleep yourself and just show up a while later, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t be disappointed with you if you decided to do that, really.”

 “nah, nah. don’t worry about it. i’ll be fine, just fine, kid. the both of us ‘ll be there when we’re supposed to. actually, expect to see us at least half an hour earlier, since you know how paps likes to show up anywhere he goes fashionably ahead of time. my bro’s such a trendsetter... he’s light years ahead of the rest of us.” He waved off her concerns with a grin that appeared far happier and less weary than it probably should, but was unexpectedly followed by a pensive frown.

 Sans grew silent and remained so for several passing moments; so silent that it began to make Frisk feel uncomfortable.

 He always made a point of looking at the person he was speaking to, but he wasn’t doing that now. His attention wasn’t on her anymore – it was on practically everything but her, and that worrying little frown on his face only heightened the sense of concern that was washing over Frisk in waves after seeing it.

 “...Sans? Is something wrong...?” She asked, a twinge of distress discernible in her quiet tone of voice.

 She had to repeat herself twice before he would answer her.

 “it’s just... about the party...” His front teeth gnawed on the bottom of his mouth, seeming only more perturbed as the seconds slowly passed by before another grin, wide and gleeful, almost to the extent of being manic, broke across his skull just as suddenly as the grimace had.

 “i was just thinking about how loooong the drive’s gonna be to get there... it’ll be so long, i might actually get a full nine hours sleep on the way there.” He accomplished getting through the first two sentences with only a few snorts interspersed into his speech, but he was really struggling not to laugh through the second half - and by the tail end of the third sentence, he was failing miserably. “i mean, i think you have the right to live wherever it is you want, but why’d you have to go and move so far off, frisk? do you not want to see your ‘ol pal sansy as often anymore, is that it?”

 “Sans, our houses are literally less than ten feet apart.” She giggled uncontrollably; his laughter was potently contagious.

 “but it feels so far away in my SOUL!” He cried out dramatically, clutching the front of his shirt directly at the area of his chest as he fell to the carpet, on his knees.

 “We’re talking to each other face to face from our windows! How much closer do you want us to be?!”

 “until it’s impossible for us to get any closer.” He replied without a beat, his laughter dying down to a nervous chuckle as a soft blue blush slowly spread across his face.

 “Wh-What...?” She stuttered dumbly.

 “what?” He parroted immediately after; so immediate that Frisk was almost certain that she must have misheard or imagined what had preceded.

 “...Sans, you goob. You really fooled me into thinking there was something horribly wrong! What you just did wasn’t in the Gyftmas spirit, Sans!”

 “ok, ok, yeah, now that i think about it, that really was kinda mean of me.” He scratched the back of his skull with an awkward sheepish smile, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself. “...but it still made you laugh, though.”

 “...Okay, I will admit that it was actually pretty funny... Especially that whole thing you do where you grossly exaggerate how far apart our houses are, despite us being next-door neighbors and all...” Frisk then made the valiant effort to appear stern in front of him. “But anymore jokes like that one today, and you’ll leave me with no choice but to take away your present privileges.”

 “you... you got me something?” His droopy sockets widened, and the white spheres that served as his pupils enlarged to the extent that they almost looked like twin moons, his reaction all but suggesting that he was truly taken aback by the thought.

 “Of course I did. Undyne may be my bestie, but you’re my bestest buddy.” She stated sincerely, but then smirked, a wicked idea manifesting without any warning. “Prepare yourself, because it��s on it’s way!”

 “you didn’t have to get me anything, frisk...” That’s what he said, but he wasn’t exactly doing an excellent job at hiding his inner giddiness – it almost made her feel bad for what she was about to do. “...wait? you’re giving it to me now?”

 “Yep! Whether you choose to close your eyes or not is up to you.”

 “...‘kay. i’ll keep ‘em closed, since i think that’s what you want me to do. sansy ‘ll play along with the surprise, kiddo.” His sockets shut, but not a second later he cracked one open. “...you better not be about to throw a snowball at my face though, ‘cause that’s a declaration of war where i come from.”

 “It’s not a snowball, so don’t worry.”

 And it really wasn’t a snowball. But he was about to get a face full of something.

 Frisk walked over to her nightstand to grab Sans’s present, unwrapped. She had meant to wrap it along with the rest of his gift, but this one had become misplaced, and thus it escaped getting packaged at the time. It was something small, in both size and value, but she was told by Toriel that Sans would appreciate it nonetheless.

 It was time to test if that claim was true.

 She stood in front of the window, taking in the sight of Sans standing there, his sockets closed and looking as though he were mere seconds away from actually falling asleep in that very spot while standing up. He was definitely nodding off though – it was time for a little wakeup call!

 “Here it comes!” She yelled happily, hurling the object she held in her hand with all her might out the window; it sailed through the chilly air and the snow, crossing the few feet’s distance between them and towards him at top speed.

 Her sudden shout caused his sockets to snap open, just at the exact right moment for whatever it was she had thrown to pelt him directly in the face.

 “buh?!” He nearly spluttered in surprise.

 It took a few more moments, as he was still somewhat paralyzed from the shock of it all, but as soon as he regained his bearings, Sans peeled off the offending object covering his eyes; it had felt soft when it collided with his skull, and he discovered that what struck him was in fact a pair of socks.

 But not just any pair of socks. No, this particular pair was colored a dark gray, and that itself wasn’t too special, but on them he found images of little cheeseburgers scattered across the fabric. Something red was also oozing out from underneath the top buns of the patties, which was obviously meant to be ketchup. They looked just as though Grillby had decided to design clothing themed around his restaurant’s menu on the side, and Sans was loving it.

 “these... these are amazing!”

 Frisk knew that he would like them, but she never once thought that Sans, or anyone for that matter, would be so overjoyed to receive a pair of socks as a gift, especially as a Gyftmas present.

 He was so pleased with them that he began kicking off his slippers posthaste and sat down on his bedroom floor to put them on. It was while he was doing this that Frisk took the opportunity to actually look at him, specifically his body, and even more specifically, his feet.

 They... didn’t look like an actual skeleton’s feet. An actual skeleton as in a human skeleton, that is; which was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary at all for him, she had learned far prior to this point, really. She had been around him and Papyrus for so long now that she didn’t really question what they could do or shouldn’t be able to do as skeletons, but still, these aspects were no less jarring to her when she thought about it for longer than a few seconds.

 His feet looked less skeletal, as contrary as that was, and more like a person’s with all the skin and the meat underneath still attached. The only thing even remotely skeletal about them was the fact that they were made out of bone. She wondered if his hands were also similar in shape. They were always out of sight, since he kept them covered with gloves or mittens or had them shoved in the pockets of his shorts or hoodie, so Frisk had never seen them before.

 He must have caught her in the act of staring, because a few more moments of ogling later and she noticed he was grinning slyly in her direction.

 “getting enough of an eyeful over there?” Sans asked with a wiggle of his eyebone(?), striking what one could consider to be a provocative pose as he slowly pulled the sock up and over his heel, never breaking eye contact with her as he did so.

 “Oh, hush.” Her cheeks were turning a deep, flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the frigid air surrounding and flooding in through the wide-open window.

 “...sweet mother of asgore!” Sans all of a sudden wheezed, startling her before he replied, nearly sobbing in his laughter as he pointed to his leg, “they’re kneesocks!”

 “Kneesocks?!”

 “you didn’t know?!”

 “No!” Frisk insisted, then added embarrassedly, “...I guess I was so absorbed in the print that I didn’t pay attention to what kind they were when I bought them. I’m sorry.”

 “don’t apologize – these are great.” Sans said as he eagerly tugged the other one up the length of his leg up to his patella.

 “Sans the skeleton from Snowdin, you aren’t seriously going to wear those, are you?” She inquired with blatant disbelief evident in her expression and tone.

 “you bet your burger i am. i’m gonna wear them at the party, and i’m patella-ing everyone that’ll listen where i got ‘em from.”

 “Sans, why...?” She half-groaned, half-giggled to herself.

 They shared a few more bad laughs together before a knock at the door interrupted them.

 “sounds like the early birds are already dropping in.” Sans remarked as he leaned out the window, peering down below to see a few monsters waiting at Frisk’s front door. “paps is gonna be disappointed that he wasn’t the first to show up.”

 “Tell him he’ll always come first place in my heart.” Frisk chuckled, already imagining the somewhat pouty expression on the taller skeleton’s face when he saw the other guests had beaten him to the Gyftmas punch, quite literally.

 “heh, he’ll appreciate that. hey, just wanted to let you know, he an’ i got most of the cooking done last night before bed, and he’s finishing up the final touches on his part of the spread right now. it’ll be more than a bit of a pain in the tailbone to carry it all in a few dishes per trip, so...” He lifted a single phalange, the tip of it glowing a bright blue along with his left eye. “...i might have to put in some actual effort to pull this off.”

 “Ohhh...! Sans is busting out the scary cyan magic eye!” She gasped, clapping her hands with delight. “And all for me and the sake of the party! I’m actually gonna see you use some magic!”

 “you act like it’s such a big deal...” He scratched the back of his skull again, turning to the side so hopefully she wouldn’t notice the blush matching the color of his magic blooming in his cheeks.

 Another knock interrupted their talk, much louder and more persistent than prior.

 “...I better go answer that.”

 “‘kay. see ya in a bit, kiddo.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Just a few hours later, and the party had already gone into full swing. The house was packed with guests at every turn, and it would only grow fuller as the day went on. Frisk fully expected the celebration to continue well into the late hours of the night, and she was more than alright with this.

 She had received plenty of promises from certain higher profile monsters that they would be attending; the presence of Toriel and Asgore hadn’t surprised her in the slightest, despite their busy schedules that didn’t let up even during the holidays. But Mettaton? Frisk was quite honestly astonished when she saw the modelesque robot strut through the front door and directly into her living room wearing a long faux-fur coat and high-heeled snow boots, even though he shouldn’t be able to feel the frigid temperatures outside.

 “Mettaton?!” She openly expressed her shock.

 “The one and only.” He lowered his sunglasses, which were entirely inappropriate for this sort of snowy weather, and winked.

 “I... I didn’t think you would make it.”

 “I wouldn’t miss your little soirée for the world, darling!” He threw up his arms to sweep her into an unprecedented embrace. “Although... it was exceedingly difficult. It’s fortunate that you sent out the invitations in advance as you did, otherwise my fabulous self being present today would have been nothing short of impossible. Being a surface world star is glamorous and all, but... some of the producers I work with really do know how to get my gears grinding!”

 “Well, I really am happy to see you here in person, Mettaton, and not on the television as expected.” She eagerly returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around his cold metallic body. “I know that I’m yours and everybody else’s ambassador, but I still can’t even begin to imagine how taxing your career can be sometimes. But remember that today is all about relaxing and spending time with the ones you love. Get some well-deserved rest for the moment and fill the Mettaton-shaped hole in our Mettaton-shaped hearts.”

 “That’s right... That’s exactly what I came here today to do. To catch up with everyone else and hear what’s happening in their own lives, while mine’s been spent under the spotlight so much lately. I can’t afford to make the same mistake as I did last time...” His head whipped around the room as if searching for something, or rather someone. “Blooky? Will Blooky be arriving soon? Are they even coming?!”

 “Don’t get your circuits in a twist just yet. Blooky’s already here – go look over in the corner of the other living room, where the music player is. I asked them to DJ for me today with the holiday compositions they compiled just for the occasion.”

 Mettaton paused in his dramatics to listen, recognizing with apparent fondness in his features the soft tune that floated through the air well – ‘Ghouliday’, one of the first songs the cousins had wrote together when the two simultaneously became interested in music several years ago.

 “That song of ours... it feels just like home...” He then took off in a sprint into the next room over, his arms waving around almost like limp noodles in a strong wind as he charged towards the ghost with the express purpose of defying all logic and laws of physics to wrap his beloved cousin in a hug. “BLOOKY! I missed you sooooo MUH-HUH-UUUUCH!!!”

 “Waitwaitwaitwait!” She heard Napstablook utter as urgently as their soft voice would allow. “I’m holding punch!”

 There was the sound of a crash, several people screaming and glass breaking, followed by a short beat before Mettaton timidly and uncharacteristically squeaked,

 “...I’ll clean that up!”

 So the party was going great.

 The pile of presents underneath the tree was growing bigger and bigger with each additional guest that attended the Gyftmas gathering. A grand assortment of names were jotted down on the tags, but Frisk probably shouldn’t have been as taken aback as she was to find that a good number of them were addressed to her.

 A scaly hand suddenly clapping over her shoulder brought the girl out of her thoughts and caused her to shriek in alarm.

 “WHOA, hey!” Undyne retracted her hand as if she had been burnt, holding both of them up in a defensive stance. “Didn’t mean to scare ya like that, Frisk. ...You were looking a little spaced out there, so I thought I’d check up on ya.”

 “Sorry for reacting like that. I was just thinking to myself... Looking at all these presents here, and so many of them for me, it made me realize how many friends I have now.”

 “I still can’t believe you’re trying to fit basically the entire Underground under one roof... and YOUR roof! You had to of known that’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And to go ahead and do it anyway despite that, well, that takes some real guts, punk!”

 “Mettaton said that he was going to clean up the mess he made, and I believe him.”

 “Wait, what?” She blinked before letting out a cackle. “You mean the ol’ tin can’s already broke something?! I take it back – you’re either fearless, or just plain NUTS for even trying to pull this off! But hey, no matter how it goes, this is gonna be something for us all to remember and laugh about later!”

 Her wide toothy grin then turned into a deep frown.

 “...Seeing everybody here, with smiles on their faces, just happy to be alive and in each other’s company; it makes me feel kinda bad.”

 “Why?” Frisk inquired, incredulous. “Why would what’s supposed to be the most wonderful day of the year make you feel that way? I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, but you seemed pretty fired up about today before...”

 “Well, I feel guilty.” Undyne averted her gaze and tugged at her scarf absentmindedly. “Back when I first met you, I hated you and every other human; because I thought you hated us. And then, well, you and I, we ended up becoming besties! But... it’s moments like these, where we’re all together just having a good time here on the surface with you that makes me remember... what a horrible mistake I almost made.”

 “Undyne, it’s all behind us.” Frisk reassured her, reaching up to place her own hand over her towering fishy friend’s shoulder with some struggling before settling on simply patting the sleeve of her arm. “You shouldn’t be thinking about that anymore – especially not today, of all days.”

 “Yeah, you keep saying that, but... sometimes I still feel pretty lousy about it.” She wrapped Frisk into a tight, almost suffocating one-armed hug accompanied by an aggressive noogie. “I couldn’t have been more wrong then! I thought you were gonna destroy us all, and that I needed to protect everybody from you. But the truth was, what I needed to be doing was protecting YOU! You really are just like Papyrus sometimes - too darn NICE for your own good!”

 “Oww! I appreciate the sentiments, but please don’t noogie the human!”

 “See? That sounds JUST LIKE something he would say!”

 “That’s because he did say it before. You know, that one time over the phone?”

 “Oh yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Undyne ceased her relentless grinding of the knuckles against Frisk’s head for the moment to ponder and reminisce. “Ya know, sometimes that whole adventure you had Underground with us feels like it happened ages ago, and other times like it was just last week. Time is funny like that. ...Oh man. I’m starting to sound just like that old coot Gerson!”

 “Stay with us, Undyne! You can’t go slipping away from us just yet!” Frisk teased, laughing at her mortified expression. “You’re still too young for the rocking chair and recollecting of yesteryears!”

 “You’re right! I’ve gotta stop blathering on and on about what happened yesterday and focus on what’s happening TODAY! Make some new memories, YEAH!” A few nearby monsters turned her way, but otherwise her exclamation didn’t receive too much fanfare. “Hey, is Alphys here yet? I want her to open up my Gyftmas present to her ASAP!”

 “No, she hasn’t gotten here just yet, but she did text me a few minutes ago saying she was on her way.” Undyne shuffled and stomped in place impatiently at this. “Oh, oh! You want to know what I got her?”

 “Uh, yeah!” She enthusiastically exclaimed. “...Does it have anything to do with Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, though?”

 “Actually, it does!”

 “Aw, PLEASE don’t tell me we ended up getting her the exact same thing!”

 “What did you get her, Undyne?” Frisk inquired, confident that her friend’s assumption was incorrect, but a sliver of nervousness was still present in her question.

 “Well, you know how most of the anime out there is usually based off of those Japanese books with all the pictures in them that you gotta read backwards to understand anything that’s going on? Uh, I think they’re called mangoes? Manhwas? Maybe it was mandalas? No, wait, that still doesn’t sound right...” Before Frisk could correct her, she had already moved on. “Well anyway, she’s got some DVDs of the anime, but none of the books. So I did a lot of scouting on your human internet and found the whole set. But finding all of them together isn’t what took me so long, no – this set is special. They’re all signed. By the AUTHOR!”

 “Alphys is gonna flip.” The reptilian monster was usually shy and soft-spoken in nature, but when talking about something she loved, Alphys could become momentarily unrestrained and speak freely about her hobbies and passions.

 “That’s EXACTLY what I’m hoping she’ll do! I don’t even know how many hours I spent and how many online shopping websites I had to search through, and let’s not even get into how much money I had to shell out for the set after I FINALLY found it - but seeing her nerd out over something like that, it’ll all be SO worth it. I’d do it again five times and a bunch more if I got that kind of adorable reaction each time!”

 “That’s so cute, it makes my heart hurt!”

 “So, uh, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, Frisk, but... if we really DID get the same thing for her, mine’s GOTTA be the superior of the two. ...There’s no way we both got her a signed set of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie mangolios, did we?”

 “No, fortunately we didn’t get her the same thing.” It was subtle, but the tension in Undyne’s expression eased at that. “Those DVDs of hers you mentioned? Well, I watched the series myself several years ago, and the ones she has aren’t complete. They’re from that old company that went out of business that used to hold the license; and not only did they do a horrendous job with the dubbing, but the episodes are out of order, some of them are even missing, and then the ones that weren’t cut were edited so badly that it’s almost painful to watch.”

 “Really? I watched some of the episodes with Alphys before, and at the time I didn’t really notice anything too weird about ‘em. But now that you’ve told me all this stuff, I gotta say, there’s actually a whole lot of plotholes and a bunch of other things that didn’t make much to any sense in the story.”

 “So this right here...” Frisk plucked a present from the ever-expanding pile, a sparkly tag with the name ‘Alphys’ written in pen stuck to the paper, and waved it around with a smile. “...Is the complete set. All fifty-two uncut episodes in their correct airing order on eight disks, with the additional viewing choice of a brand-new English dub or the original Japanese voice acting with subtitles.”

 “Dang, I just realized... Alphys is gonna be so busy with this stuff we got her, she probably won’t have any time to hang out with either of us anymore!”

 “Well, I can’t say anything about the books, but maybe we could make the viewing of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie a thing at Ladies’ Night from here on out?” Frisk suggested, believing that the rest of the girls might enjoy it; especially since they could actually follow the plot along without much trouble when watching this edition of the series.

 But Undyne didn’t respond to her suggestion. No, the redhead was peering at something behind her, just over Frisk’s shoulder, with a slack-jawed expression. But before Frisk could even begin to ask her what was wrong, a shrill squeal erupted far too close to her ear, forcing her to turn around.

 “Alphys!” Frisk shrieked herself, now knowing exactly why Undyne had seemed so distraught. “How much did you-” It was too late, she realized. “You... you heard everything, didn’t you?”

 “So much for surprises...” Undyne grumbled sourly, crossing her arms.

 However, Undyne’s prickly mood quickly faded when Alphys launched herself at her, flinging her arms around her neck and squeezing with all the appreciation she could convey as she practically screamed her gratitude towards them both.

 “ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOUTHANKYOU...!!!!!” Alphys screeched with delight, her grip around Undyne’s neck becoming tighter and tighter to the point that even one of the strongest monsters in the Underground was having difficulty breathing.

 “Alphie, you’re CHOKING me...!”

 “Oh... OH! Sorry! I’m SO sorry!” She immediately detached herself from the fish lady, somewhat mortified but still giddy, and gave her a chance to regain her breath. “I just... I got so excited that I... I just couldn’t contain myself anymore!”

 “Well, you’re gonna have to contain yourself for a while longer, now!” Undyne huffed, a look of faux scorn gracing her face. “Instead of doing the honorable thing and walking away when you had the chance to, you stood RIGHT THERE and heard everything that you weren’t supposed to; and once again, instead of WALKING AWAY and pretending you didn’t hear ANYTHING, you LET US KNOW you were there by calling attention to yourself with all your adorable squeaking and squealing!”

 “I... I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise...”

 “...I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just... I really wanted to WOW you, Alphie. And I’m sure Frisk here did too, what with how much she was hyping up your present from her.” Undyne then pointed a clawed finger at her. “HOWEVER, because the identity of your gifts have been revealed to you too early, you have to WAIT to open them – ONE HOUR for EVERY MINUTE that you spent standing there listening to us!”

 “I stood here for about five minutes...” Alphys decided it was best to be honest with her, to avoid disappointing Undyne any further than she already had.

 “Then you can open them at three.” She huffed in response, then peered down at Frisk, who was giving her a fixed stare accompanied by a tiny frown. “Don’t you give me that look! That’s what my mama made me do whenever I snooped around to see what I was getting for Gyftmas before I was supposed to! Heck, sometimes I screwed up with her so bad that I had to wait for DAYS after Gyftmas had passed! Don’t ask me how she always knew I snuck some peeks of the stash before she could get ‘em all wrapped - moms are just really good at finding out about that kind of stuff.”

 “Aww...” Alphys pouted in a manner not unlike an upset child, and both Undyne and Frisk had to admit – seeing her like that really was precious.

 “It’s just a few hours, Alphie.” Undyne playfully rolled her one good eye and began shoving her good-naturedly towards a group of guests that had gathered around the television. “Let’s go mingle some and then you’ll see the time will pass by before you even know it!”

 Undyne hauled Alphys off in such a rush that Frisk had missed her opportunity to give the finned monster her own gift – she watched the couple for a moment, wondering if she should drop in on their ensuing chatter to deliver it, but it seemed they were having so much fun that she’d hate to interrupt. She supposed that Undyne could open hers later, alongside Alphys’s.

 Shopping for Undyne had been a bit of a stumper, compared to some of the other monsters that she knew. Frisk’s first choice had been a replica sword, but then she recalled their frequent hangouts at her place and remembered that she had plenty of those – the human girl thought for some time that they had burned up in the fire, but Frisk learned shortly after visiting her new home on the surface that she braved the seemingly eternal flames which still engulfed her old house in the Underground and had gone back inside to rescue them. And aside from a few scuff marks, they were essentially in pristine shape.

 Even though she was certain that her anime-obsessed friend would be more than thrilled to receive yet another oversized duplicate sword to add to her collection, Frisk felt that her Gyftmas present needed to be a bit more special. She wracked her brain for days on end, reviewing everything she knew about the powerful fish woman and former captain of the Royal Guard.

 So, after much deliberation, Frisk decided that instead of giving her yet another replica for her to put on display...

 She would get her a real one.

 The only person she had spoken to concerning this idea was Sans (because Papyrus couldn’t keep a secret even for the sake of his own life, and Alphys couldn’t exactly be trusted with this top-secret information either because she became increasingly loose-lipped when excited to a certain extent), who unhesitantly informed her that while Undyne would be ecstatic, going through with it would be a grave mistake on her part.

 Undyne was zealous, yes, and incredibly hot-blooded for a fish lady, but Frisk told him that she trusted her to be responsible with the bladed weapon.

 “a move which will henceforth be known as ‘mistake number two’.” He had rung in with his opinion then.

 But she honestly couldn’t think of anything else that would impress her as much as a genuine steel sword, so at the time Frisk had more or less told Sans to stuff it. She was hoping with all her might that Undyne would prove him wrong – otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from the smug skeleton.

 Frisk was aware that someone who had the ability to summon spears made of magic from thin air would probably possess no real need for a sword, but the practicality of the present wasn’t really all that important in the first place – the only thing that truly mattered in the end was whether Undyne was happy or not with her gift.

 And speaking of Sans, she quite literally bumped into him on her way to the kitchen. It seemed he just then finished putting all the dishes he and Papyrus prepared in their proper places on the various tables she had set up around the living room, because the faint glow of his magic was still visible in his left eye and she caught sight of a fading wisp of blue from his fingertips.

 “‘ey, kiddo. where’s the fire at?” His hands reached out to steady her, their unexpected impact nearly knocking Frisk off her feet.

 “It’s in the kitchen – I thought I’d check up on Grillby. He said there were still a few things left that he needed to involving some additions to the spread and asked to borrow mine so he could finish the job.”

 “paps is really letting this new position as a ‘head chef’ get to his, uh, head.” He sighed, but it was an unmistakably satisfied one. “don’t get me wrong – i couldn’t be happier that he’s done nothing but improve since we’ve been on the surface; tickled to the bone even... but i gotta admit, paps can be kind of a bossy boots when he’s all absorbed in his cooking. he has this tendency to hover over anybody else with him when in the kitchen, and feels the need to input some well-meaning, but unrequested advice. so i hope he isn’t giving grillbz too bad of a time in there.”

 “You told me that everything on the list of dishes he was responsible for was finished. If Papyrus finished everything he was supposed to, then why would he be in the kitchen?”

 “to dispense some of his well-meaning advice.”

 “...Oh. Well, I think Grillby might be able to handle it?” Sans didn’t seem so sure of her words, and neither did she herself honestly. “He seems like the type to work well even under pressure. From what I’ve seen, for someone made of flames, he’s pretty good at keeping a cool head.”

 “yeah, maybe so, but even someone as chill as grillby has got to have an ignition point.” Sans did have a point there, Frisk mentally noted – and while they both knew that the flamesman would never blow up on Papyrus, the likelihood of him becoming tormented by the skeleton’s helpful intentions was quite high. “you said you were going to pop in and check on him? i’ll go with ya – i’ve gotta give grillby his gift anyway, so now’s as good a time as ever, i guess.”

 “What did you get him?” Frisk asked, filled with curiosity.

 “well, it’s not really much of a gyftmas present, but...” He shrugged, seeming somewhat ashamed. “i’m gonna finally pay off my tab with him, with interest. i think he’d probably appreciate that more than anything else i could’ve got him today.”

 “You mean you still haven’t paid off that big bill you racked up in the Underground?” Frisk shook her head, but smiled all the same. “What I have for him isn’t anything material either, but I’m pinning my hopes on the possibility that it’ll be the sort of gift that’ll keep on giving in the long run.”

 “it already sounds a lot better than what i have planned. so, don’t keep me in suspense, kiddo - what’s this spectacular gift of yours that’s supposed to keep on giving all year ‘round? it’s not a one-year membership to the jelly of the month club, is it?”

 “No, and I caught that reference, Sans.” She giggled, and he swore the sound was almost like bells, if only to him. “Some of the monsters, like Grillby, I couldn’t think of anything to give them that I could wrap up in a box. So instead of something physical, I decided to make a present out of an act or service – I’ve made the arrangements for his restaurant to receive a much needed expansion in the near future, since I heard from him and a few other regulars that the building is getting sort of cramped, what with all the new customers he’s drawing in now.”

 “aww, kiddo.” He cooed, “grillby ‘ll probably start crying soot when you drop the news on him. an upsized establishment is the best thing you ever could have thought up to give him. you’ve got me beat in that department - that’s way better than my idea.”

 “Gyftmas isn’t a contest, Sans.” She gently chided him. “And I’m sure that Grillby will be more than happy to collect your overdue payments as a present. I’m willing to bet he most likely never thought he’d see a single piece of the gold that went into your meals, so at least it’s a guarantee you’ll be surprising him.”

 “ouch.” He placed one hand over his ribcage, feigning hurt. “that was cold, frisk. real cold. you wanna know how cold that was? that was so cold, that i could step right through that front door and walk straight into that blizzard going on out there, and it’d still be a whole lot warmer than what you just said to me, your ol’ pal sansy.”

 “i was just teasing you, funnybones.” She lightly slapped his arm, the touch more akin to a light tap as she laughed, “I knew you were always planning on paying him back. You always do. Grillby once told me you never did let him down before when it came to eventually clearing off your tabs, so he didn’t expect you to this time, either.”

 “that grillby... what a guy.” Sans shook his head, almost pityingly.

 When they entered the kitchen, they found Papyrus exactly where Sans expected him to be, standing behind the flamesman and leaning over his shoulder, closely scrutinizing his work as he chattered on and on in incomprehensible culinary jargon. Grillby’s reaction to this was subtle – to the casual observer, he would appear to be nothing but the very essence of calm. However, the slightly erratic flickering of the flames that composed his body made them aware that Grillby was steadily becoming increasingly distressed at the unwanted commentary and being so closely observed. If that alone hadn’t clearly sent the message across, then the near pleading look he gave the two when he took notice of their presence certainly would have.

 “i got this.” The skeleton by Frisk’s side whispered. “‘ey, pap? what’re ya up to in here, slaving away in front of a stuffy hot stove, when there’s a party going on out there?”

 “OH, HELLO BROTHER! AND A MERRY GYFTMAS TO OUR GRACIOUS HOSTESS TODAY, MY BEST HUMAN FRIEND, FRISK!” He greeted them cheerfully, then gestured to Grillby. “I WAS MERELY OFFERING MY VASTLY ENHANCED CULINARY EXPERTISE TO ONE OF OUR OTHER FELLOW CHEFS WHO IS IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!”

 “i can see that you’ve been busy.” Sans stated simply, taking in the fire monster’s haggard appearance which Papyrus seemed to be oblivious to. “but pap, it looks like grillbz is about done here, and some of the peeps attending the skelly-bration have been asking about ya in the past half hour.”

 It wasn’t a lie, either. At least five monsters had flagged him down on his way to the kitchen alone, questioning him on the whereabouts of his brother. Perhaps it was merely curiosity at work, as the brothers were rarely apart from one another for extended intervals, but the fact remained that several guests were expecting the appearance of the great Papyrus.

 Sans wanted to rescue his good pal Grillby from the fate of being subjected to his younger brother’s backseat cooking, but he didn’t want to hurt Papyrus’s confidence or his pride in order to do so.

 It was one of his fatal flaws – Sans showed difficulty in being honest with those he loved whenever something was amiss, so he would lie in order to spare their feelings. He held the uttermost purest of intentions, but Frisk had a premonition of sorts that this habit of his would one day return to bite him hard in the boney posterior, and the end result might not be as humorous as it sounded.

 “UGH. THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE. JUST... ABOMINABLE!” Papyrus groaned, his disgusted reaction eliciting a snort from Sans. “...YOU SAY THAT THE PARTY GUESTS... ARE REQUESTING MY COMPANY?! WELL...! I’M TERRIBLY SORRY, GRILLBY, I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS MY REMORSE, BUT I MUST LEAVE THE REST OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE DONE IN YOUR CAPABLE HANDS!”

 “That’s quite alright, Papyrus.” Grillby’s soft, whispery voice crackled, the relief it displayed only being discernible to the human and the shorter skeleton. “I can finish up the rest of the cooking just fine by myself – you go and enjoy yourself.”

 Sans had cleverly played on the enjoyment Papyrus took out of being the center of several’s attention well – he had no difficulty in carting him out of the room and thus allowing the overstressed fire monster to complete his assigned task in relative peace.

 Before they slipped out of the kitchen, Frisk left an envelope addressed to him on the counter where she was certain he would find it. Inside were papers, the documents detailing the renovations and additions that would be appended to his restaurant, and all that would be required of him in exchange is that he sign his name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page.

 This is what Frisk murmured to Sans when he inquired over the contents of the mysterious parcel he had noticed she left behind for Grillby to discover.

 “didn’t you want to watch him open it, though?”

 “Yeah, I did, but... I thought that if he really did end up crying over it, then it might fluster him if he did that in front of you or me or Papyrus. This way, he can be as emotional as needed in his own privacy, and Grillby can find me later to talk about it if he wants to after he’s composed himself.”

 “i’m sure he’d appreciate the consideration. pretty much anybody that’s known grillby for long enough is aware that it don’t take much for him to get worked up until he’s shedding soot all over everything. you’d think he’d be the stoic type, someone that isn’t easily moved, but that first impression couldn’t be further from the truth.”

 “I think it’s wonderfully sweet. The world needs more caring and tenderhearted men like him. There are way too many aloof, dismissive, and severely emotionally stunted types out there already.”

 “yeah?” Sans replied, his interest piqued – not that she picked up on anything unusual or out of sorts in his behavior.

 Little did Frisk know, topics such as her preferences in men, specifically monster men, had been frequently occupying his thoughts as of late.

 A spark of faint, barely there attraction had manifested following her befriending and hanging out with his brother. He made a valiant effort in forcing these feelings of his down as deeply as he could shove them, to the very bottom of his protesting SOUL. He tried to convince himself that such a thing between them would never work out by using various methods to psyche himself out of his budding crush.

 She’s a human. She could still be dangerous. Monsters aren’t supposed to feel this way about humans. The other monsters would make fun of you. It will only end in tragedy. You’d put her in danger if anyone found out. She would never feel the same.

 Such excuses was what he relied on to reign in his emerging urges, his desires to pursue a relationship of a romantic nature with her. But the more time he spent with her, the more he heard her laugh that was reminiscent of the chiming of bells at his jokes, his japes, and antics, the more he beheld her smile that shined brighter than the stars he loved so much, the more it became impossible to deny that he had fallen.

 Fallen deeply and hopelessly in love.

 He was constantly torn between handing out hints that pointed towards his sentiments and doing everything within his power to bury them from her sight. He didn’t want her to uncover his blossoming affections, yet he did want her to. Sans had never felt such a terrifying, yet thrilling sensation in his entire life.

 Since he was made aware of his own feelings towards Frisk, there were only two things holding him back from participating in the games of love, presently. The first was the very real prospect that she may not share his feelings. The second, however...

 “Papyrus, before either of you go wandering off anywhere, I need you and Sans to stay put for a moment – I’m going to get your Gyftmas gifts out from under the tree. I hope they haven’t been buried underneath the others up by now...”

 Papyrus nearly squealed with jubilation and delight, gushing over her thoughtfulness as Sans for the second time that day was caught off-guard.

 “you mean the socks weren’t my present?” He questioned, pointing to his legs which were covered up to his patella in tiny burgers and fries.

 “Good gracious, how did I not notice that you were still wearing those things?” Frisk remarked, the second-hand embarrassment almost overwhelming.

 “your guess is as good as mine, ‘cuz you really should of since you’re so short.”

 “Oh hush.” She huffed, scurrying off for a few minutes before returning with two boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper.

 Once the boxes were in their respective hands, both noted that the presents were actually rather heavy in weight. They took the time to tilt their gifts from side to side, gently shaking them in front of her, just to tease Frisk a little before opening them. Sans felt the need to casually stick the bow that was on the box to the side of his skull, for whatever reason – this borderline bizarre action still elicited a laugh out of the girl all the same, much to his inner satisfaction.

 Because that was a part of love – doing stupid and even irrational things just to make the one you loved happy.

 Papyrus tore into his present first, and he couldn’t have been more captivated with what was inside.

 “SANS, LOOK!” He proudly held up a thick book with several tabs sticking out of the pages; it was a book of recipes, to be precise. “‘101 WAYS TO PREPARE PERFECTLY PLEASING PASTA’! EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE EVER WISHED TO LEARN ABOUT SPAGHETTI IS CONTAINED WITHIN THE CONFINES OF THIS BOOK! I CAN AT LAST TOSS OUT THAT OUTDATED COPY WITH ALL THE FADED AND TORN BITS I FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND’S JUNKYARD!”

 So that explained what was wrong with his spaghetti then, Frisk thought. Chunks of his previous cookbook were missing, and he must have tried to substitute ingredients and wing the rest of the recipe’s steps, with disastrous results.

 ...But that still didn’t quite explain why it wasn’t even remotely edible. Just what had he put inside the sauce?!

 “so i guess that you’ll be telling that old book...” Sans started, the grin on his face spreading further.

 “SANS, DON’T YOU DARE!”

 “pasta-la vista.”

 Papyrus’s entire body gave an almost violent jerk as a strangled wheezing sound escaped his throat – it was a laugh or a chortle of some sort, that much they were sure of, but he had done his best to suppress it.

“SANS... THAT PUN WAS EVEN WORSE THAN THE LAST!”

 “nuh uh. you thought it was hilarious.” Sans calmly contended with a smirk. “don’t even try to deny it, paps. your reaction said more than words ever could.”

 “...I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY OR HOW THAT HAPPENED. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED IT, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, BUT I STILL LAUGHED ANYWAY!”

 “i know the answer to that – it’s because i’m the pun-niest skeleton that ever lived.”

 “...THAT IS DEBATABLE.” Papyrus shot him an unamused glance. “NOW DON’T BONE-DOGGLE AROUND ANY FURTHER THAN NECESSARY – START UNWRAPPING YOUR OWN PRESENT AND SHOW ME WHAT FRISK GAVE YOU FOR GYFTMAS!”

 “ok, patience, paps. don’t get your tibia in a twist.” He chuckled, tearing off the wrapping paper in one swift motion and gingerly opening the top flaps of the box to reveal... another book, even heftier than the last. He flipped through it, his sockets gradually widening as he viewed its divisions. “it’s... an astronomy book. star maps, pictures and scientific accounts of solar and lunar eclipses, statistics about the planets in the solar system...”

 Questioning whether he appreciated it wasn’t at all necessary – his expression of wonderment spoke for itself. Sans was positively beaming, and the sight of him wholeheartedly enjoying her gift sent a series of warm fuzzies straight to her heart.

 “thanks a bunch, but... you... you didn’t have to get me anything...” He was touched almost beyond words. “this must have cost a literal fortune...”

 “Pish posh. Never you mind about the price.” She waved off his concern, only providing further proof to him that the astronomy book was indeed more expensive than she was letting on. “Seeing the look that’s on your face right now made it worth every cent.”

 “aw geez, kiddo...” A bright blue blush crept onto and coated his cheeks once more - Frisk couldn’t quite say why, but she found the shade and color to be exceedingly cute.

 Papyrus then plucked Frisk from her place off the floor and pressed her firmly against his chest, hugging her tightly as he thanked her. So tightly that breathing was becoming somewhat of a challenge while being subjected to his loving clasp. Sans squeezed his way into the embrace, finding some amount of enjoyment in watching Frisk struggle and squirm before interfering by tugging at the sleeve of the other skeleton’s sweater.

 “bro, i know you mean well, but I think you might be squishing her.”

 “Yes, please don’t squish the human...” She whined pitifully.

 “OH! MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES, FRISK!” He released her posthaste, setting her down with evident care on her own two feet. “I SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOUR FRAGILE HUMAN BODY WASN’T PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FULLY WITHSTAND THE FORMIDABLE STRENGTH FROM THE POWERFUL PHYSIQUE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

 “I’m fine, Papyrus. Just... give me a moment to catch my breath.”

 She supposed his tendency of putting his all into everything, even something as natural as an embrace, was a trait that came about from his friendship with Undyne. The fish woman was in no definition of the word gentle, so even the simplest of gestures such as handshakes and hugs were elevated to an extreme level.

 “So, I’ll... take that as a sign that you liked your gift?”

 “YES! IMMENSELY SO!” Papyrus answered as he held the cookbook filled with pasta recipes up, almost proudly. “I PROMISE, FRISK, ONCE I PERFECT THIS RECIPE, YOU’LL HAVE THE MOST DELICIOUS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE, YOU CAN COUNT ON THAT!”

 Several months ago, her insides would have twisted up in dread at that. But now, she could actually feel her stomach threatening to growl and the faintest traces of drool beginning to form at her mouth. She was genuinely looking forward to his dish to the point that Frisk wished she could eat it immediately, if not sooner.

 Against her wishes, all these thoughts and talk of spaghetti spurred her stomach to indeed growl, and quite loudly at that. She could feel the air around them still, and both brothers were staring at her with expressions that could only be described as judgmental.

 “you... you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, did you, kiddo?” Sans says after a long pause, almost accusingly.

 “...No.” She admitted, seeing there was no sense in attempting to fib her way out of this one.

 The once denizens of the Underground took food very seriously, if the vast array of cuisines Frisk came across during her journey were any indication. It seemed each monster she met had some sort of signature dish, such as Toriel’s butterscotch cinnamon pies, Sans’s hotdogs (or even more specifically, hotcats), Muffet’s spider doughnuts and cider, and of course Papyrus’s spaghetti.

 Monsters took their mealtimes very seriously, and Frisk had just committed a terrible offense in their eyes, or rather eye sockets.

 “FRISK, WHY WOULDN’T YOU EAT BREAKFAST THIS MORNING?” Papyrus questioned her mournfully, sounding betrayed. “IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!!!”

 She had definitely upset him, Frisk realized – he had used three question marks when reprimanding her, something that was usually only reserved for him when he was at his utmost happiest.

 “I... I didn’t have time to.”

 “kiddo, you’re surrounded at every angle by food.” Sans gestured all around them at the tables, every inch of their surfaces covered by dishes filled with delicacies. “that’s, kind of the entire reason why you asked us all to bring something? so nobody would have to go hungry at this party? so, uh, tell me, frisk – what makes you think the host is exempt from that precaution, huh?”

 “It’s not like I chose not to eat anything on purpose, I’ve just been busy.” She feebly defended herself, already aware that she was fighting a hopeless battle. “Making sure everybody’s happy, handing out gifts, that sort of stuff...”

 Sans studied her for a moment, seeming to process her words carefully before craning his neck upwards to look at his brother.

 “...pap? you don’t mind taking up the position of co-host, do you?”

 “WOWIE, WOULD I EVER!”

 “Wh-What?” Frisk blinked twice at them, confused beyond all reason. “What do you mean ‘co-host’?”

 “it means exactly what is sounds like – pap is gonna take over some of your responsibilities so you can relax.”

 “And I don’t get a say in this at all...?”

 “nope.” “NOPE!”

 Their replies were simultaneous, cheerful, and matter of fact, and before she knew it, Frisk felt the bony hand of Sans clamp around her own, tugging her away from the taller skeleton and towards the banquet.

 “But-But I still have presents to deliver to their proper recipients!” She protested, Sans not slowing down in the slightest.

 “YOUR CONCERNS ARE UNFOUNDED, FRISK! THE PRESENTS HAVE TAGS!”

 “they’ve got tags, frisk.” Sans parroted, as if she had somehow not heard him. “don’t worry your pretty head; he’s got this.”

 “Okay, if you say so...” She responded, not sounding convinced at all.

 “trust me on this – papyrus is somebody that feels like he needs to be doing stuff constantly, all the time, and he likes being useful. while i do wish that he would sit down and smell the spaghetti from time to time, this is something good to him, and for him. paps being co-host and handing out presents will give him the chance to mingle, maybe make some friends, even. this’ll be like a whole other present, to him.”

 “All of that does make a lot of sense, now that you’ve explained it...” Frisk conceded defeat to his logic. “...But that doesn’t mean that you have to pull me around just to show me the table spread. I’m the one that set up everything, remember? I know where the food is.”

 “obviously, you don’t, since you haven’t eaten anything yet.” He shot back, and she stuck out her tongue at him childishly – he was just as immature, though, and flicked his own out as well.

 Once they were at the table, he commenced piling the food onto two plates, one for her and one for himself. He then guided his human companion to one of the couches, one where not as many guests were gathered around so there was no danger of someone getting rowdy and spilling their food onto the floor.

 The moment they were seated, before Frisk could even get comfortable, a tiny hotdog wrapped up in a croissant (otherwise known as pigs in a blanket, Sans’s own culinary contribution to the event) was shoved in front of her face, tapping insistently at her lips. She lightly shoved his arm away, but he was persistent.

 “Sans, I know how to eat by myself. You don’t have to feed me!” She squawked as she continued batting at his hands, refusing to allow him to push the tiny sausage past her lips.

 It was mostly out of a sense of paranoia of someone seeing them and getting the wrong idea. The last thing she needed was for someone to begin harassing the skeleton because someone mistakenly believed they were an item. Human-monster couples had become a thing remarkably quickly, but Frisk didn’t believe that Sans would ever be interested in pursuing a relationship with one, much less herself.

 “well, you could of fooled me.” He snipped, and he used her shocked expression at that to his advantage, popping the pig in a blanket into her open mouth. “there, now doesn’t that taste good, baby?”

 “...You’re making me seriously reconsider being a pacifist, Sans.” The girl warned him, but he knew it was all in good fun, wiping away the crumbs at her mouth as she chewed with his thumb before bringing another one to her lips.

 She reached up to snatch the little hotdog from his fingers, causing him to pout exaggeratingly.

 “Well, well, well... aren’t the two of you getting cozy~” A soft and sugary female voice remarked.

 Frisk whirled her head around to find Muffet standing a few feet away, staring at them with the corners of her mouth curved up into a sweet but sly smile.

 Out of all the monsters that could have caught the two of them like this, Muffet was by far not the worst, Frisk thought. She would definitely tease her over this, if not the both of them, but she wasn’t one to spread rumors around.

 Sans, however, seemed to have no sense of shame and all and curled an arm around Frisk’s shoulders, pulling her closer to his side and flashing a grin that matched Muffet’s own. The two monsters shared a knowing gaze that made Frisk feel as though she were missing something here...

 “Hey Muffet, did you come to chat?” She asked somewhat nervously, but the spider lady seemed to be fixed on what she had just witnessed.

 “Oh, and what could be happening here? Did I step into a secret little romantic rendezvous between two lovers?”

 Frisk nearly blanched, and even more distressingly bizarre was, Sans made no moves to deny her outlandish claims. The most he did was wiggle whatever constituted as his eyebrows at Muffet then turning around and doing the same with her. He then picked up another morsel from the platter between his two phalanges in an attempt to feed her again, as if she were some sort of small animal in need of treats.

 “Hmm, that looks fun, dearie. Let me try!” And with that, Muffet plucked one of the pigs in a blanket off of Frisk’s plate herself and poked at the human’s lips with it.

 “Muffet, no, not you too-mphh!” She was quickly silenced by the sausage being shoved into her mouth.

 “Aww, what a sour expression.” Muffet cooed, reaching out to pinch Frisk’s cheek, tugging it around in different directions before releasing her hold.

 Frisk made a solemn vow to herself, then and there – she was never going without eating breakfast again.

 The price was just too much to pay.

 When she turned her head upwards to look at Sans sitting next to her, all smug, she mentally noted that was probably the point of all this. Nevertheless, an important lesson was learned.

 She snagged her plate from the skeleton and scooched as far away from him as possible, all the way to the other side of the couch. Sans, however, just moved as well, sidling right up next to her and slinging his arm around her shoulders once more.

 “The two of you are adorable together~” Muffet giggled, taking her place on the couch at the space directly next to Sans. “I actually didn’t come over here just to torment you, dearie. I wanted to speak with you.”

 “...About what?” Frisk questioned, suspiciously and with a hint of dread.

 “Oh, nothing for you to be wearing such a grim expression. I encountered Papyrus a few minutes ago and he delivered your gift to me on your behalf – I came over here to thank you! An expansion for my bakery, to somehow arrange such a thing was incredibly... generous, of you.”

 “I couldn’t think of a single other thing that might make you more happy.” Frisk confessed. “That was the best I could do.”

 “Dearie, there isn’t a single other thing you could have given me that would have made me happier.” Muffet shook her head, her pigtails swaying from side to side. “I was elated to have that old building and make it into something of my own, you must believe me on that, but it was so very... cramped. And there was only so much I could do with that limited space, and thus only so much I could earn with the few resources I had available.”

 Muffet frowned, her voice dwindling to nothing more than a murmur.

 “...I am aware of what others say of me, I’ve heard their whispers; that I’m stingy and constantly demanding money, and perhaps that is true in a certain sense, but I behave so not for myself, but for all of them, my family.”

 She gestured around the room, and Frisk could make out several members of the Arachnid family in the crowd. She hadn’t met any of them during her adventure underground, but Muffet was more than eager to introduce them to her after they had struck up a proper friendship and began spending an extended time in each other’s company. Frisk always knew that Muffet was so much more than a money-grubbing spider like some spoke of her as being, but now more than ever was Frisk made aware that she was simply a hard-working monster, toiling endlessly to provide for her family.

 “I never once thought such a thing would ever leave my lips, but...” Muffet sighed blissfully, “your gift almost feels too generous. My one and only wish, every year when Gyftmas arrived, was for all of them to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never truly cared much about seeing the surface, if I’m being honest with myself, but ever since they began occupying it along with the rest of us, that’s all they’ve ever been – happier than I’ve ever seen them. And I have you to thank for it.”

 Muffet was right – Frisk couldn’t exactly speak for how they may have behaved prior to the breaking of the barrier, but each and every member of her family seemed to be in high spirits whenever she saw them. And today, Gyftmas Day, was no different.

 She could spot Irene, the big, buff tarantula, arm wrestling with Undyne, Alphys cheering her on along with several others while Irene was supported by several other spiders and monsters, and it appeared it was going to be a close match. Edgar, a short and rather shy male black widow, was cuddling with his human girlfriend Elizabeth on one of the other couches (fiancé, he frequently insisted, in spite of them only having known each other for a few months at most). Muffet’s father, Daddy Longlegs, who was also one of the higher up employees at Frisk’s office, seemed to be conversing with some other guests over by the punch bowl, the once tall and intimidating monster wearing a gentle smile on his face.

 Ku-Mo, Muffet’s mysterious as much as beautiful relative from Japan, who had fled from the war and thus managed to escape the fate of being imprisoned in the Underground, had arrived with her human husband in tow, the two having been married in secret for several years already and were currently quietly enjoying each other’s company by the crackling fireplace. Julian the peacock spider, a dancer and a designer, was bickering endlessly with Mettaton who he often claimed to be his rival, as per usual during their encounters, but even that was far more lighthearted and less snide than the norm. Spinerette, his timid brown recluse wife, was watching from the sidelines, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible.

 Charlotte and Peter, the twins of inexplicable origin (Muffet claimed the two just appeared before her several years ago, as if having manifested from thin air; no mother, father, nor any relative of the sort accompanying them, and the already massive arachnid family took both brother and sister in without any further questioning), were supposed to be eating together while watching television, but were spending more time tossing mini marshmallows from their cocoa at one other over little comments the other made more than anything. And Webber, Muffet’s first cousin and a tarantula/daddy longlegs hybrid, was busying himself with keeping the Annoying Dog preoccupied with pets so Papyrus wouldn’t freak out.

 Watching them all like this, along with the others, it was exactly the sort of beautiful chaos that Frisk had wanted out of today.

 Muffet then more or less pushed Sans to the side to envelop Frisk in a loving, six-armed embrace, holding onto her tightly like a lifeline.

 “Seeing them like this, this is all I’ve ever wanted out of this life of mine. ...Everyone had to keep up appearances in the Underground, a jovial one; we all wore a smile, grinning and bearing it, but occasions such as these are the ones where I know for a fact that they’re genuine – real. I sleep so much better in my nest knowing they’re all so much happier this way.”

 She held the human even closer towards her, if that was somehow possible.

 “As far as I’m concerned, Frisk, you’re a member of the arachnid family as well. If you need anything, dearie, anything at all, then please keep in mind that you can come to me for whatever it may be.”

 To say that Frisk felt touched by the sentiment would be the understatement of the century. Muffet had a strong sense of family, but didn’t befriend others easily. She spent so much of her time invested in keeping her own kind content that she simply had none left to spare on friendship, not until she left the Underground. Muffet always wore a mask of mystery, much like her relative Ku-Mo, giggling sweetly and deflecting questions about her own state of happiness in favor of focusing on her family’s.

 She and Sans were very much the same in that regard – perhaps that was why the two were always so amicable towards each other. They had a mutual understanding.

 “Dearie, I know it isn’t much; I’m certain that nothing I could possibly give you could ever properly repay for everything you’ve done for me and my family, but this is my gift to you.”

 Muffet gently placed a medium sized box onto Frisk’s lap, light in weight and the wrapping paper covered in little cupcakes. It was so adorable that she hesitated for a moment to open it, but she could tell that despite her modesty when presenting it, Muffet was eager to see her reaction to its contents.

 Inside the gift box was... a blanket. A silk blanket, and it appeared to be a handmade item. The blanket was as white as the fallen snow covering everything outside, and the fabric almost had its own sparkling quality to it as well. Every detail was intricate, so much so that staring at it for too long almost made Frisk’s head begin to spin. Muffet had told her that this present was nothing to get excited over, but the amount of effort that must have went into the weaving of this blanket warmed her to the very core.

 “Muffet, it’s... it’s... beautiful!” She cried, holding it up for Sans to see, having crawled back up onto the couch sometime since the spider lady shoved him.

 “I’m so happy to hear that, dearie!” And she could tell that what she said was genuine, Muffet’s features relaxing somewhat. “I wanted this one to be my greatest creation yet outside of the bakery business, but... I feel as though the pressure I placed on myself only caused me to make more mistakes. I believe I spent more time retracing my steps and fixing my blunders than actually weaving...”

 “Well, the end result is breathtaking, and I mean that in the best of ways. Thank you so much!” Frisk praised her work as she carefully folded up the blanket, intending to place it on her bed once an opportunity to do so had made itself available.

 “The blanket should be big enough for two. Perfect for cuddling.” Muffet giggled, then turned a pointed glare towards Sans as she stood up. “And Sans, dearie? If I discover that you’ve stained it with ketchup in the future, I’ll strangle you in your sleep~”

 The spider lady then stepped away from the pair, in high spirits like the rest of her kin, leaving the two of them to process her words.

 Frisk simply saw her suggestive behavior towards them as Muffet being, well, Muffet. Sans, meanwhile, must have taken what she said more to heart, because a deep blue blush had covered his entire face, but he was grinning shyly as he took the blanket from her, putting it inside the box it came in and setting it safely to the side before placing her plate of food from earlier onto her lap.

 “eat the rest before it gets too cold to.” He ordered, seeming to have forgotten or at least pretended not to know that monster food didn’t cool down like human food did.

 Nevertheless, she did what was asked of her, otherwise he might decide to feed her again in front of everybody.

 “Sure, he clams up because of something silly that Muffet said, but when it comes to him shoveling food into my mouth, in public, that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest...” Frisk inwardly remarked, reflecting on the skeleton’s hypocrisy.

 They finished their lunch a while later, idle chatter between the two eventually filling in the awkward silence that the spider lady had left behind. On each occasion it seemed to Sans that Frisk was done when her plate wasn’t empty, he prepared himself to feed her again, giving her plenty of warning beforehand to coax her into eating everything in front of her. He continued to do this until it was cleared, the human girl sending him a grumpy glare once she had, to which he responded by pinching her cheek.

 “Jerkface.” That was the only thing she could think of to call him, as juvenile as she knew it was – he just smiled warmly at her.

 “i love you too.” He immediately replied before turning all the way around, appearing to Frisk as though he suddenly found the wallpaper extremely fascinating.

 “i can’t believe i just said that out loud, joking or not...” He thought, but the inner pride swelling in his ribcage for having finally said those sweet words that so often stirred inside his SOUL whenever he was with her won out over any shame and embarrassment he might have felt.

 This sense of satisfaction didn’t last long, unfortunately for him, and soon his insecurities and fears took over once again.

 Much to his relief, Toriel had made an appearance shortly after his little accidental declaration. Much to his chagrin, however, she came in the company of Flowey, otherwise dubbed by Sans as ‘that awful weed’.

 Flowey looked none too happy to be here as well, and the tiny wool winter beanie the queen had knitted for him which rested on his topmost petal did little to brighten the overall mood he was emanating, much less the matching sweater he also wore or the bright red bow wrapped around his pot.

 Frisk, on the contrary, thought he was adorable.

 “Awww!” She nearly squealed when she caught sight of him, momentarily abandoning Sans to coo over his attire. “Looks like somebody came ready for Gyftmas!”

 “Bah humbug.” He grumbled, but the faint blush that bloomed across his face didn’t escape her eye.

 What also didn’t escape her observation was the object that dangled over the doorway, directly above them. A clever idea came to her.

 “I apologize for his rudeness, my child.” Toriel gave her a sheepish smile. “He’s been in a sour mood all morning, I’m afraid.”

 Frisk supposed that he would be. This was very likely the first Gyftmas he would be taking part in after several long years of being a flower. The last time he had a proper Gyftmas was probably when he was the Underground’s prince, Asriel, and that had been a long, long time ago.

 “Well, if he’s gonna have that kind of attitude, then maybe I’ll just have to keep his present to myself until he learns better manners.” Frisk spoke as if he weren’t right there, but her tone was discernibly playful – he quickly perked up.

 “Well, don’t keep me in suspense!” He demanded as he impatiently wiggled his leaves, “Let me have it!”

 “oh, i’m gonna let him have it, alright...” Sans muttered under his breath, but Frisk elbowed him in the ribs and told him to shush.

 “Okay, but you have to close your eyes first!” The skeleton by her side raised a socket slightly at this, but said nothing, just stared at her inquisitively.

 “...Oh, fine... fine...” Flowey conceded defeat to her whims, closing his cartoonishly beady eyes as instructed.

 “And no peeking either!”

 “I won’t, I won’t!” He insisted complainingly.

 “Okay, now keep them shut...” She giggled, leaning in closer towards him, holding her breath before...

 “Mwah!” She smooched the flower, right on the mouth. “Mistletoe kiss!”

 “BLUH!!!” He sputtered, retreating backwards and staring at her with wild eyes, then began coughing, wheezing, and hacking as though he were dying. “Bleh! Bluh! Ptooey! Ugh...”

 The two women watched his theatrics with an amused glee; meanwhile Sans was sulking a few feet away, mumbling unintelligibly to himself.

 “ungrateful brat. would’a been over the moon if that’d been me...”

 A few more moments of spitting and spluttering passed before Toriel chose to speak up over her son-flower’s dramatic display of disgust.

 “Flowey, dear, you’ve made your point. That’s enough of that.” She chided him gently, placing a gentle paw over his head to give him a comforting pat.

 His mother’s warm and familiar touch calmed him considerably, but he was most definitely still sour over the trick.

 “And just what was that supposed to be?” He grumbled to Frisk, who was still smiling cheekily throughout the whole ordeal.

 “Affection!” She replied cheerfully.

 “Disgusting.”

 “Well, if that’s how your attitude’s gonna be today, then I’m just gonna have to give this-” A small gift box with a bow appeared before his round beady eyes, which she had somehow procured from behind her back despite there being no evidence of it having been there before, “to someone else, then.”

 His demeanor took an almost instantaneous shift; still displeased with her jokes, but far too eager to receive his gift to risk tempting Frisk’s patience with him, just in the unlikely but certainly possible case that she was actually serious about withholding his present privileges.

 Satisfied with his compliance, Frisk then placed the tiny box in front of Flowey, resting on the rim of his pot. Before she could begin to question just how he was going to open it without any fingers, or even hands for that matter, he immediately tore into his gift, quite literally, with his teeth. He ripped off the bow first and foremost and flung it to the side, hitting Sans directly in the face – it couldn’t have possibly hurt him, but he complained nonetheless.

 In just seconds, Flowey had stripped the box of all it’s wrappings and was free to lift the lid to the bare box lying underneath. Inside was... some sort of micro-sized controller, or that’s what it seemed to be to him and his observers.

 “It’s a Flowey-sized game controller!” Frisk explained happily, confirming the identity of his gift. “I asked Alphys to make it for you, since she and I thought it wasn’t really fair that you’re always at a disadvantage whenever we play together.”

 He stared down at the controller for the longest, then lifted it into his leaves with apparent wonder, taking a few moments to fiddle with the various buttons and other parts installed into it’s design. After a few seconds, a wide smile crossed his face – not one of his cruel, deranged ones, but a genuinely pleased and pleasant smile.

 And that was all the thanks Frisk could have ever asked from the prince turned sentient plant.

 Unfortunately, her friend Sans didn’t share the same thoughts.

 “i didn’t hear a ‘thank you’...” He all but grumbled, both of his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.

 “I’ll say it after I wipe the floor with you in Smash.” Flowey spoke matter-of-factly with a smug and satisfied smirk.

 A dark shadow crossed his face, and the skeleton suddenly leaned towards him to whisper something, “...yoshi committed tax fraud.”

 ...and that was when Frisk and Toriel knew they had to step in before this escalated to an incident.

 “HE DID NOT! STOP SPREADING YOUR LIES, SKELETON!!!” The buttercup more or less shrieked, struggling to free himself from his pot as Toriel quickly stepped several paces backwards.

 “I’ll talk to you later, Toriel.” Frisk said swiftly, wrapping her arms around Sans’s middle and dragging him away before he could make the situation between him and Flowey worse than it already was.

 “Can you go one day, one day without being a colossal butt?” She asked, already knowing the answer before he even opened his stupid mouth.

 “nope.”

 “See, I knew you were going to say that.” She sighed, more to herself than to him. “I didn’t even get the chance to give Toriel her gift, and all because you couldn’t play nice with Flowey for more than two seconds.”

 “sure, blame your bestest pal, sansy.” His tone remained jovial though, despite the blatant accusation that was also present. “here, just gimme the gift and i’ll get pap to deliver it. no sweat.”

 “But I wanted to see her face when she opened it...” Frisk whined, gazing down at the tiny box in her hand – inside was a snail shell pendant, the fragile mollusk casing cast in a layer of genuine rose gold on a matching delicate chain. “...And it’s all your fault.”

 “ok, ok... even though you’re being all cute and pouty about it, i can tell that you’re really upset with me.” He snatched the box from her hand before she could react, handing it off to Papyrus with just as much speed before turning back to her. “so, let me make it up to you. c’mon, put on your coat and boots and let’s head outside.”

 “Outside...?” She parroted, staring at the skeleton as though he had just spontaneously grown a second head. “Outside, as in, outside with all of that snow?”

 “hey, the weather’s calmed down a bunch since we’ve been here. see? it’s just fluttering down, completely harmless. so going out there now would be more like standing under a shower of white confetti.”

 He did have a point, Frisk acknowledged when she glanced out the window for herself. Aside from that, Sans seemed to be really eager about something, and while the probability of it being over a dumb, not to mention juvenile prank was extremely high, she enjoyed seeing him happy.

 So, a few minutes later, the human girl had donned her winter apparel and headed out of the house with him, quietly leaving the party without a word to make their way into her frosted over backyard garden.

 The pair sat on a bench in the middle of the area, directly in front of the frozen pond. Frisk had once pondered over purchasing some koi for it, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Just what does one do with the fish when winter came, anyway?

 “Okay, Sans. I can tell you’re giddy, so don’t even try denying it – don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

 “impatient, much?” He chuckled, but there was a noticeable bead of sweat trailing down his skull despite the surrounding temperature, and it seemed as though he were concealing something from her sight from within the pocket of his hoodie.

 He might have been able to hide the last thing from her, if only his hand hadn’t been fidgeting so much. It appeared that he was fumbling with the object, nervously running and drumming his phalanges over it every few seconds as if to ensure that it was still there. She had quite honestly never seen him like this, and it was both concerning to her, yet simultaneously fascinating.

 “here we go, moment of truth.” He spoke after a long pause, almost more to himself than to her. “hold out your hand.”

 At witnessing her hesitance, he assured her. “this isn’t some prank. i promise.”

 And at his usage of the ‘p’ word – promise, any doubts she may have previously been holding onto had instantly been vanquished and Frisk readily held out her hand, waiting. After a moment more, a small box was then placed into her open palm.

 “merry gyftmas, frisk...” Was all he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and could even be described as sweet.

 She glanced over the box, surveying its size.

 “...Is it a tiny whoopie cushion?”

 “nooooo...” Sans snorted, shaking his head. “if you want to know what’s inside so bad, then why not just... open it?”

 Deciding that she’d teased him for long enough, Frisk giggled softly, and gingerly lifted the lid to the box.

 To see the contents of the box, she had to push aside some tissue paper concealing the identity of her gift, but once this was done, what was revealed to her was some sort of clear ball, a bit bigger than the larger marbles one would sometimes find in a set of the glass toys. And visible within the ball was a small flower. Not a faux flower made of silk or some other fabric, but a real one that had been preserved in resin, its color a striking bright blue, so radiant it was almost glowing, no, it was glowing...

 It was an echo flower.

 Undoubtedly the tiniest echo flower she had ever laid eyes on.

 She gingerly lifted the preserved echo flower from its box, discovering a long silver chain was attached to it.

 Sans had gotten her a necklace. She never, not once would have ever expected him to present her with jewelry – he just didn’t seem like that sort of guy.

 That wasn’t to say that he was cheap with his gifts, no, far from it, in fact. But this gesture went so beyond the unexpected that Frisk was left speechless. She needed to say something, and soon, otherwise Sans will believe that he had failed in some shape or form when the reality was, this just may be one of the most precious items she had ever received.

 “Sans... it’s not really something I condone, picking favorites, I mean, but...” She smiled, the sort of one that always sent the skeleton monster’s SOUL spinning, and held up the pendant with pride. “This is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve received today. It’s beautiful.”

 “aww... you’re just saying that.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

 “I am not!” She insisted, standing up. “And I’m going to put it on. Right now!”

 “here, let me.” He immediately leapt to his own feet and took the necklace from her grasp, unfastening the chain before looping it around her neck.

 Both of his arms were wrapped around her as he fumbled with the clasp, struggling to refasten the pendant. At least, that was what he led Frisk to believe. Even in their current position, he could have easily secured the two ends of the chain, if he so wished. But that wasn’t what he wished, so he didn’t – not yet.

 To any passerby that may have witnessed the two, it would appear as though they were an embracing couple, and that’s precisely what Sans wanted to believe they were, even if only for this moment in time. He was too much of a coward, too filled with insecurity and doubt to hold her so tenderly against him in a more direct manner.

 So, he would prolong this moment for as long as possible, or as long as Frisk would allow him to.

 “hehe... silly thing just won’t... it’s like my phalanges are coated in butter.” He pretended to struggle with the two ends of the necklace’s chain once more. “just give me a few more seconds, frisk.”

 She missed the near pleading tone present in the last line that he spoke.

 “Maybe this would have been easier if you stood behind me instead...?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, not that he could see it – his head was resting on her shoulder so he could see what he was doing with the chain’s clasp.

 “maybe, but i’ve got this.” He fumbled with it for a few seconds longer, then finally put a silent end to the charade, thus ending their impromptu embrace.

 He took a step back and took in the sight of his handiwork – the echo flower pendant rested directly over her heart and SOUL, just where he wanted it to be.

 “there’s something special about that echo flower, though. it isn’t just there to look pretty.” A fierce blue blush was slowly creeping and spreading up and across his skull. “you remember what they’re famous for, right? give it a little tap. might need two or three to work, but give it a try.”

 “Sans... am I gonna hear the sound of one of your whoopie cushions if I do?”

 “do i really seem like the sort of weirdo that would do that?” He inquired, and honestly, not only was it exactly something that he might do, it sounded like a hilarious idea, but he wasn’t about to ruin such a sentimental gesture with such a cheap prank.

 “...Yes.”

 “it’s not another whoopie cushion prank, frisk.” Then he quickly added, with a strong sense of sincerity in his voice. “it’s not any kind of prank at all.”

 Satisfied with his reply, she did as he previously instructed and gave the pendant a few short and swift taps, then waited.

 The flower, despite being trapped inside the glass, glowed just a bit brighter, then...

 “take care of yourself, frisk... because someone really cares about you...”

 She recognized and remembered those words well. She had heard them before, after all, towards the end of her journey in the Underground. He had spoken those very same words to her in New Home’s Judgement Hall, but there were two stark differences when comparing the sentence from then and now, one of them obviously being the use of her name, as he nor any other monster bore knowledge of the final fallen human’s name.

 However, the intonation of the familiar phrase had changed as well – it was quieter, softer, fonder than when he said it in the past.

 “...you’ve done so much for us, frisk.” Sans spoke after a meaningful pause. “...and you’re still doing things for us. you... you really care about us monsters. it’s undeniable. you’ve even accomplished the impossible – the barrier trapping us underground broke, and i know you had something to do with it, even if i’m still not completely sure how it was possible, or if the specifics are even really important now.”

 He sat back down on the bench, patting the spot next to him and urging her to do the same.

 “you just keep on making things better, turning our most insane of fantasies into reality in the present when a whole lot of us back then were so hopeless to the point that some of us were seriously considering... giving up. i just... i think about everything that you’ve done for us, every single day, sometimes even all day, ever since i met you, and, well... i just started to wonder; do you know how much you’re cared for?”

 He let out a soft chuckle, closing his sockets and throwing all his inhibitions to the side.

 “i know the others are grateful, but i still can’t speak for any of them. i’m just sans the skeleton, after all. but... if the question being asked is, ‘does sans the skeleton care about frisk the human, our ambassador, our savior?’ then the answer is, ‘yeah, he does’. frisk, when i said ‘someone really cares about you’, that someone was supposed to be me. i care about you. a whole lot. i guess you could even say i care a skele-ton. ...i’m just sorry it took me so long to say it, but that’s how i really feel. i just wanted you to know that.”

 When he finally mustered the courage to face Frisk again, he was flustered to find her sniffling, nearly sobbing into her mittens.

 “...i’m sorry. all that was really stupid, wasn’t it?” Sans somehow felt that her reaction was negative, and that it was his fault.

 “No. No, no, no, no. No...” She choked out, but when she lifted the cloth-clad hand away from her mouth, he spotted a shaky smile on her lips. “That... That was... just so... I just... I don’t know what to say... Just give me a few minutes, I’m sorry...”

 She managed to compose herself quickly enough, Sans patting her on the back and still feeling lousy for making her cry. Once all of her quaking and hiccupping had ceased, she gave the skeleton a look that he recognized as determined.

 “Sans, I have one last gift for you.”

 “one more?” He blinked owlishly. “frisk, you’re... you’re really spoiling me here.”

 “This has been something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while, now. I just wasn’t sure when, or if it was even conceivable at all, but...”

 “frisk, you aren’t making any sense.”

 “Just... wait here. I’ll be right back.”

 She didn’t return to the house like he thought she would. No, she stepped into the little shed about ten feet away from the bench, then returned a few seconds later holding a white package with a bright red ribbon resting on top. She gently placed the present into his waiting lap, then sat next to him again with a long, almost weary sigh.

 “Open it.” She demanded, throwing Sans slightly off guard with how uncharacteristic it was of her to do so.

 But Sans still felt the need to mess with her a little before he complied.

 “is iiiiiiit...” He tilted the box left to right, then right to left, listening for any shifting noises inside. “...a pair of green shorts with purple-flower print?!”

 “...You want a pair of Patrick Star’s trunks?”

 “hey, i’d wear ‘em.”

 “I have no doubt that you would.” She eyed those burger-covered monstrosities called kneesocks still covering his legs – Frisk almost couldn’t believe that he wore them to the party and was still wearing them; almost...

 “okay, that’s enough fooling around.” He unraveled the ribbon with one swift tug, the lid to the box gone in the blink of an eye.

 Sans peered inside the blackness of the box...

 Reset...?

 Those yellow letters stared back at him, that word and the sensation it brought, the thing he had learned to expect and fear through the horrific experience of being trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of mercy and violence by a being untouchable by time, was right before his very eye sockets.

 His head whipped up to face Frisk, his grin gone and his expression eerily blank.

 “It’s yours now.”

 It took him ages to respond.

 “.........wh-what?”

 “It’s yours now. The RESET button? It’s yours.”

 “...why did you think this would mean anything to me?” He spoke softly, sockets narrowing down to slits. “how did you know this would mean anything to me?”

 “I knew giving you this would open up an endless plethora of questions...” Frisk sighed to herself resignedly. “Here’s the short answer: the previous owner told me.”

 “the... previous... owner...” He repeated those words to himself, yet he still didn’t seem to understand them – his mind was fading to white.

 “I had a suspicion, for a long while now, that this meant something to you. That you were... more aware than you let on at times. And he- they, confirmed it for me. This button... it’s caused you a lot of trauma and heartache, even if you can’t remember all of it. And perhaps that’s for the best, really. I don’t know everything myself, but... I’ve heard enough, and my imagination is more than enough to fill in the rest of the story for me, even if I don’t want it too.”

 “papyrus... he... he died.” He whispered brokenly, holding his skull in his hands as he hunched forward. “over and over and over again. i can’t remember how or why, but i just know that he did. he shouldn’t be here now, a lot of us shouldn’t be here now, i probably shouldn’t be here now, alive, but i am. we all are...”

 “Sans, there’s nothing in the world I can say or do to produce any proof that what I’m saying is the truth and force you to believe me, but I never hurt anyone. The damage was already done by the time I came along.”

 “then who did it, huh? who killed my brother and everyone else?” Sans nearly spat, causing Frisk to flinch – what she didn’t know was, his spite wasn’t directed towards her at all; he was suspicious, yes, but...

 “I... I can’t say. Because I made a promise that I wouldn’t. But... this person, they’re very sorry for what they did in the past now, in the present. They want to make amends, to atone, but don’t know how or even if such a thing could ever be possible. Once again, I have no proof that what I’m saying is the truth, but this, it was our idea. They agreed to it, Sans, that it was only fair for you, the one most affected by this, to be the one to gain ownership of it – the RESET button.”

 “............”

 “I’ll answer any questions that you may have, about the past timelines, to the best of my abilities. Just as long as they’re not about the previous owner. But I never hurt anyone, Sans.”

 “......I know that.” He whispered.

 “You do?” She replied, deadpan.

 “i do. you don’t have to explain anything to me, frisk. i believe you.”

 She had expected him to fire off at least a million questions a millisecond, to be subjected to an interrogation, maybe even a trial by fire (with Grillby serving as the fire), or something, but not... whatever this was.

 Just... quiet acceptance that her word was the truth.

 “look... this other person, the one that had the reset button before you, i already knew about ‘em before, frisk. it’s true that when i first met you, i thought you had something to do with the resets, and i was sorta right, but not in the way i first thought. that’s why... that’s why, sometimes, i wasn’t as helpful as i could have been, not as kind as i should’ve been. the resentment that i felt for something that was beyond my control but in someone else’s, there were occasions where i took it out on you. i couldn’t understand how you could just, hurt all of us like that, and then go right back to being friends with us, like nothing ever happened, reset or not.”

 One of Sans’s skeletal hands reached up to cup her cheek, surprising her.

 “but then the more time i spent with you, i realized that some things just didn’t add up. and now i know why – you never did hurt us. i was blaming you for something that was never your fault in the first place.”

 “But you’re wrong about that, Sans – I did hurt you. I did use the RESET button. I never did hurt anyone in any of the timelines, but... you have to understand, Sans, it took me several tries to reach this ending.”

 “that doesn’t matter now.” To Frisk’s immense shock, he actually smiled, not grinned, but smiled. “whatever you may or may not have done in the past, you’ve more than made up for it with everything you’ve done in this timeline.” He patted the side of the box containing the thing he once dreaded and loathed “...including this right here.”

 “It’s your power now, Sans. At first, I considered destroying it and putting the pieces in the box as your gift. ...But then I thought that wasn’t fair to you, either. So it’s all up to you from this point onward. The decision of whether or not there’ll ever be another RESET rests all on your shoulders, because I’m satisfied with how everything’s turned out. Everyone’s happy now, and that’s all that ever mattered to me in the first place, alongside staying alive. I’m so sorry if my methods of achieving this result put you through any turmoil, though.”

 “frisk, i understand and forgive you, but... this other person, though. they may be sorry, but you also have to understand that i can’t forgive them. not unless they apologize to my face for everything they put me, paps, and the others through – even if i am the only one that has any memory left, no matter how small it is, and can comprehend just what happened then.”

 “They want to apologize to you, Sans. Desperately. They’re just... afraid to.”

 “well, tell ‘em i’m ready to listen whenever they’re ready to start talking.”

 “I’ll pass that on, Sans. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you will get an apology sooner or later.”

 “frisk, i...” He spoke after another long moment of stillness between them, clutching the box tightly. “i just... you don’t even know how much this means to me...”

 “You’re right. I don’t know, and maybe I never will, but... I can imagine. Imaging how much suffering you went through. And I won’t force you to talk about your experience, but if you ever want to, I’m here. I’ll listen.”

 That’s when whatever was left of Sans’s stoic façade faded. Frisk held out her arms, anticipating such a reaction for the last few moments, and he immediately flung himself into her hold. He sobbed into her shoulder, every single emotion he had been repressing since he came to the conclusion that he was enclosed in a vicious cycle spanning across time-space was released. She was simultaneously the first and the last person Sans ever wanted to see him like this.

 Frisk didn’t judge him for his outburst, no, she never would. His human was far too kind for that. She simply held him while he cried, stroking the back of his skull and patiently waited for the flow of tears to ebb, not caring in the slightest if they soaked her sweater. Several minutes passed like this, perhaps even hours, but Frisk never gave any indication that she wished to move. Eventually though, Sans did compose himself.

 “oh... ohhhh gosh...” His words possessed a slight slur. “that was so embarrassing...”

 “No, it wasn’t. You held all of that in for far too long.”

 “um, speaking of holding things in, frisk...” He began, but much to his surprise, Frisk just huffed.

 “Really, Sans? You’re going to make a fart joke after all this?”

 “really, frisk?” He mocked, actually feeling somewhat offended. “is that all i am to you? a bag of misery borne of time-space-related trauma, barely together bones, and ill-timed fart jokes?”

 “...Pretty much, yeah.” She replied after a beat, but her tone and expression clearly conveyed that she was joking. “In all seriousness, though, what was it that you wanted to say?”

 “well... this is something that i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but didn’t, because, well... i thought there was no point in it since i thought i didn’t have a future. but, uh, now that i know i do, there’s, um, literally nothing stopping me now, except for myself, that is. i...” He took a deep, deep breath, then sputtered all at once, “ohgoshimactuallydoingthiswaitnoicantdothisohmygo-”

 “Sans, don’t push yourself! It’s okay! Nobody’s forcing you to say anything!” Frisk almost panicked as she watched him choke and hyperventilate.

 “no, frisk; this is something i’ve gotta do!” He insisted, hands fluttering over his ribcage and spasming in different directions – if she didn’t know any better, the girl would say he was doing a killer impression of Burgerpants...

 Before she was forced to listen to Sans make any more chicken noises, the sound of what could only be described as peacocks screaming filled the air, along with the distinct crash of what was unmistakably the sound of a window shattering. The ‘peacocks’ were Mettaton and Julian screeching, and when Frisk turned her head in the direction of her house, she saw one long leg sticking out of the snow surrounded by a ring of glass.

 “Frisk, darling! I’m SO, SO, SORRYYYYYYY!!!” The robot nearly wailed. “I’ll pay for the damages; I promise I will!”

 “No, I’ll pay for the window! Agreeing to engage this fool in a dance contest was my idiotic idea in the first place!” Julian immediately added after, causing the two to squabble over who was more remorseful and who would get to repay their ambassador.

 “Sans, this is gonna have to wait until later. I have to deal with this, apparently.” Frisk patted his shoulder then offered him a hand. “You coming?”

 “nah, i think i’ll stay out here for a little while longer. maybe use some magic on these dark circles under my sockets, you know, so nobody knows i was bawling.”

 “Okay, but if you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m coming back out to check on you.” Yet another crash, followed by several more screams permeated the once quiet winter air. She groaned, then gave her echo flower pendant a few flicks to trigger the message Sans had recorded. “I know they care too, but I wish they cared like you do. You never break any windows.”

 “just because i haven’t doesn’t mean i won’t.” He grinned.

 Frisk narrowed her eyes, causing him to snort at her expression.

 “...Take some time to think about what you just said, with the screams of those two flamboyant idiots in there as your soundtrack.”

 She stomped off towards the house, and as Sans watched her retreating figure, despite the cold around him, he was left with a feeling of warmth, contentment. His SOUL felt light and fluttery, fluffy as the falling snow.

 He held the box closer towards himself, its contents something he once hated, but now loved – because it was given to him by the human he loved...

 Sans felt another round of sniffles begin, but now he was crying for an entirely different reason – he felt happy.

“if i didn’t love her before... stars, i sure do now.”

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Summary:  Loki and Evelyn go on a date. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapters: 11/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags:  @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:

I’ve neglected to post 11-12 on tumblr...so since I’ve recently updated, i’ll post everything in one go. so expect two more chapters.

____________

There was a moment where Evelyn thought she would get used to her professor's stunning appearance...but it was on this day that she was proven wrong.

When she exited her apartment, she could see that Loki was waiting for her just below the steps, leaning leisurely against his car.

And lord help her - If she loved how the man looked in suits, his current attire sent her into a tizzy. Forsaking the usual suit jacket, Loki donned a simple black dress shirt that sat snug against his form, with sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His dark slacks fit quite nicely as well, and Evelyn struggled to keep her eyes well above his chest.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one who perused without shame. As Evelyn made her way towards him, she could feel his eyes scanning every inch of her body - and she grew increasingly self-conscious as he continued his silent appraisal.

“You are...the definition of stunning,” he said after a while, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her forehead, “And you smell delightful as well.”

Unsurprisingly, Evelyn felt a heated blush rushing to her face, and she stumbled to reply, “You - you look really good too…” If she was getting this nervous already, Evelyn feared how the rest of the night would fare.

Once they were inside the vehicle, Evelyn started to probe - as subtly as she could, about their destination, but all she received were vague answers.

At first, she expected him to take her out to a fancy restaurant because he seemed to be a ‘posh’ kind of person, but since they were dressed quite casually, maybe that wasn’t the case? She would feel out of her element anyway if he took her somewhere expensive, so she hoped it was at least a comfortable, easygoing place with good food.

And easygoing it was. After driving through the busy streets of Manhattan, Evelyn was pleasantly stunned to see that it wasn’t a fancy restaurant - but a taco bar. Before they even stepped inside, her stomach growled loudly with approval.

Loki laughed at the strange sound, and Evelyn berated her stomach silently, “It seems I’ve made the correct choice, yes? While it isn’t taco Tuesday, I figured you’d still have a craving for it.”

She laughed, surprised he even remembered what she said from that long ago. “I guess that was a dead giveaway that tacos were my favorite…” He smiled, ushering her into the bar with a hand on her lower back, “Indeed it was.”

Once they were inside, it took no time before they were seated and ready to order. Loki reassured her that she could have anything she wanted and not to worry about the expense, so Evelyn happily indulged - though she was still mindful not to choose the most expensive thing on the menu.

While Evelyn thoroughly enjoyed the fanciest looking taco she’d ever eaten, they gradually fell into comfortable conversation. It was almost reminiscent of the times they talked together in his office while he helped her study, before their desires came to light. Now though...the air between the pair was much more intimate.

Loki asked her questions about her life and family, whilst she did the same. He was rather tight-lipped about his own family situation, but relented that he was the youngest of three, with an older sister and brother. Evelyn tried to probe further, but he had managed to divert the conversation her way once more.

“....and I only wanted to shape up my eyebrows, but I ended up shaving off the entire thing! I remember putting on like, six pairs of pants because I just knew my mom would whoop me to the moon and back,”

Loki quirked a brow in query, “Were you attempting to soften the blow?”

“Yup,” Evelyn grinned proudly, “Though I gotta give credit to Candice for that one. I honestly think she loved getting in trouble with how wild she was...”

Evelyn paused momentarily, putting an abrupt end to her monologue. She debated with herself on whether or not to ask a question that had been bothering her for a while, before deciding to just get it out there.

“Can...I ask you something? Just out of curiosity...”

She could tell that Loki was intrigued by the sudden switch in subjects, because he seemed to be watching her facial expressions more carefully than before. He could easily see when she was flustered, and no doubt it must have shown on her face.

Evelyn shimmied slightly in her seat under his gaze, attempting to ignore the butterflies that fluttered within her stomach, “Well...uhm, why do you like me? Like, the actual reason?”

“...I beg your pardon?”

She panicked slightly at his confused expression, rephrasing her question in response, “Oh, well, what I mean is...I know you find me physically attractive...but is there something in particular that drew you to me…? Like, when exactly did you know that you saw me as more than a student?”

Loki seemed to pause entirely. Even after a minute or two, he said nothing - he merely looked at her with a distant expression, as if debating whether or not to tell her what he was actually thinking.

Evelyn frowned slightly at his reaction. ….Was that really that hard of a question?

Before she began to grow antsy, he finally decided to speak, “I...would prefer to answer that question in a more private setting. Perhaps later?”

Evelyn could only nod, her heart in the pit of her stomach. What was so wrong with his answer that he had to say it in private?

She tried not to let it bother her as they finished up dinner and headed towards his car, distracting herself with the sights outside the window as they once again took off into the bustling city.

After driving for around 30 minutes, she noticed that they had left the city, and into a more suburban area. Each house they passed by looked progressively fancier than the next, and she also noticed that his neighbors were few and far in-between each other.

For whatever reason, that observation made her nervous, and she began to wipe the sweat that formed on her hands onto her dress.

“Is everything alright, love?” Evelyn whipped her head to look at him suddenly, slightly startled, “You’re quiet,”

Evelyn reassured him immediately, “Oh, yeah! I’m just a bit drowsy, I almost nodded off a couple times...”

Loki chuckled at that, “We did eat quite a bit, so I wouldn’t be surprised. We’re almost there though, so hold on just a bit longer.”

And, he was right. After making a right turn, Evelyn’s eyes widened at the house that lay in the distance.

They went around a small roundabout that had an immaculately decorated water fountain at its center, before coming to a stop directly outside the house. Tall glass windows on the exterior hinted at the luxury that lay within, with the glittering chandeliers illuminating the marble flooring at the entrance.

“Uh...are you a drug dealer or something?” She asked in awe as he helped her out of the car, her eyes fixated on the impressive building. While it wasn’t a huge mansion by any means, it was still too large for one person to live by themselves. How he could afford such a nice house on a professor’s salary was beyond her comprehension.

Loki turned to look her in the eyes, his face cold and expressionless, "And what if I am?"

He couldn't resist the laughter that bubbled in his chest at her hilarious expression of horror.

Loki flicked her forehead playfully, and she yelped in pain at the sudden attack, "You ask the strangest things, silly girl."

She rubbed her forehead with a pout, remaining silent as he led her into the house by the hand.

If she thought outside was grand, then inside was another story.

It was exquisitely furnished and decorated, with marble floors so clear it felt as though she was walking on glass.

The interior decor was modern with a classical touch, and she couldn't imagine another style that would fit him perfectly.

Loki observed as she took in her surroundings with glowing curiosity whilst guiding her towards the stairs, "When you visit once more, perhaps then I'll give you a small tour. For now though, I thought you'd appreciate seeing the collection right away."

Once more? That was the only thing that stuck out in that sentence to Evelyn, since he said that in a way that left no room for doubt. So he wouldn't mind me coming over again…?

Evelyn mentally slapped herself, trying to get her mind out the gutter. She was really getting ahead of herself.

There isn't a guarantee that anything will happen tonight, so I shouldn't get my hopes up.

…….Wait, I had my hopes up? Oh boy…

From that train of thought, Evelyn knew she was in trouble.

After going up a flight of stairs, Loki made a left into a lengthy, spacious hallway that held only one large door at the end.

Due to a singular light source on the ceiling, the sight itself was slightly ominous, but she tried not to let that bother her.

Well, she tried, but Evelyn couldn't resist clutching his arm.

Loki looked down at her with a smile, freeing his arm to loop it around her waist, " Once we get inside, the lighting will be much better. See,"

When they finally reached the door and he began to open it, Evelyn had to do a double-take.

"When you said you had a collection...I thought you meant like, you know, a small room with a couple of paintings...but sir,"

In her excitement and awe, she stepped further into the wide, spacious room, marveling at the sight before her, "You have a whole museum in your house!!"

The room resembled a large gallery, with white walls and sheen, wooden flooring. There were glass cases that held valuable items of interest, with a considerable amount of paintings that neatly lined all four walls of the room.

Loki laughed, finding her excitement very endearing, "That's a bit of an exaggeration, my dear."

"But...but look!" Evelyn took him around the room eagerly, pointing at paintings of prominent artists she recognized, " You actually have a Bob Ross painting, with his happy little trees! You really weren't lying…"

Loki lifted a brow at that, " You thought I was?"

"...Eh," she brushed that off rather quickly, moving on to the next painting, " Holy nuggets, I love this one!"

He came beside her to look at the piece in question, as she began leaning against the wall to look at the painting at an angle.

"Thomas Cole was my inspo for so long! Especially this painting… just look at those brushstrokes, so precise and confident..."

She was silent for a bit, turning to look at her professor with questioning eyes, "Say...why did you collect art? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were an art history teacher or something."

"I had a lot of time on my hands when I was younger. I did a fair amount of painting back then as a hobby, and developed a small obsession with the arts. Hence, this collection."

He gestured at the space with a careless wave of a hand, " I've long lost interest, though. I barely even remembered I had this room."

Evelyn only nodded, slightly sad at his response, "Oh…”

"Despite that, I've been thinking about adding one more painting to the collection."

She looked at him, intrigued, " Oh? Whose?"

Loki stared into her eyes, his smile widening, "None other than yours."

Evelyn was utterly confused, " Wait, what? What do you mean..?"

He went closer to her, taking her small hand into his own, “It would be an understatement to say that I was captured by your paintings when I visited your workspace. I would be honored to own a finished piece by you - of course, I’d gladly pay any price.”

“Huh!? But- I’m not really a professional, I'm far from good...besides, the walls are all filled up,”

He looked at the painting she was admiring moments before, “You said this painting inspired you greatly, correct?”

Evelyn looked at the painting, then back at Loki, “Yeah..but-”

“Then, I’ll exchange this painting for one of your own.”

At his proclamation, she immediately felt overwhelmed with emotion, “That- what? But that’s worth so much, that wouldn’t be fair at all. There’s no reason to be this nice to me…”

Evelyn couldn’t tell what this man was thinking, was he crazy? He wanted to exchange a master’s work worth thousands for hers, which was still mediocre at best. He was being way too generous…

“You’re thinking too much of it. I simply value your pieces much more,” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them once again, a primitive hunger lurked within the depths of his icy blue irises, “I admire everything about you, and your art is no exception.”

Her heart started to thrum wildly as he came closer, trapping her against the wall. Loki towered over her small form, and she looked up at him with an open mouth, speechless.

“Earlier, you asked why I liked you, and when my attraction began.” He traced a finger down her neck, ghosting towards her cleavage, “Would you like to know now?”

Evelyn gulped, only managing a nod as she stared up at him helplessly.

“It was around a year ago, and you came to me for help for the first time during my office hours. You struggled so much in my class, at the beginning. A shy little thing,”

His voice was growing darker and darker by the second, and the air around them rapidly twisted with his desire, “You were a sputtering mess, apologizing for every little mistake. But when you finally did something right, I praised you. You would smile so brightly when I did, so eager to please me so I’d praise you once more. Such a good girl,”

Loki leaned towards her further, his breath fanning against her cheek, “Tell me, my sweet little pet...do you want me to take care of you?”

It was like he was an entirely different person. This wasn’t the generous, warm man from before. Evelyn should’ve felt concerned at his words, his tone, the situation - but it was like she was in a trance, his words caressing a dark depth within her heart.

Good girl. She didn’t know why, but when he said those two simple words to her, in that deep, velvety voice of his...she couldn’t help but rub her thighs together.

Whatever this was, this feeling right now, she wanted more of it. She wanted him to praise her, to call her his good girl again.

She didn’t know what prompted her to say what she did in the next moment, but the words left her mouth so softly and suddenly before she could process it, “Please... take care of me,”

Loki's lips were on hers before she could even blink. Evelyn released a muffled moan as his tongue plundered inside her mouth, pressing her body against the wall in such a manner that there was no space between them. He ravaged her tongue like a starving beast, and she reciprocated with the same ferocity.

Loki moved a hand towards her lower back, gripping her ass roughly. He gave it a quick squeeze, before lifting a leg in order to bury himself further between them. That action on his part allowed Evelyn to feel his distinct hardness against her sex, and the sensation caused her to whimper quietly in pleasure.

Things were going fast, way faster than Evelyn expected. If they continued along this route, she'd most likely lose her virginity right now, against the wall. While the thought appealed to her in the past while she fantasized about this moment with him, she wanted her first time to be...different. A little less rushed.

"Wait...wait a sec - mmh..!" She attempted to get him to slow down a bit, but his fervent attention to her neck and the slow grind of his hips were getting a bit too distracting.

Perhaps because of how breathless and quiet her words were, he failed to hear her, lost in his own world of pleasure. Finding no other way to garner his attention, she went to tug at his hair, burying her hand in his long, raven locks. She must have pulled harder than intended however, because the man actually growled when she did so, his eyes flying to meet hers.

"Um...can we - can we move somewhere else? Right here's a bit..."

She could see that it took a moment for him to process her words. But when he did, Loki smiled apologetically," You're right, I got carried away," and with elegant swiftness, he lifted her into his arms to carry her out of the room, startling the wits out of the young woman.

"Thankfully, my bedroom isn't far."

____________________

This is happening. It’s really happening…!

She was about to fuck her professor, and there was no going back.

To say Evelyn was nervous would be an understatement. But regardless of her nerves, she had no intention of backing out of this arrangement. She trusted him with her first time and was frankly more excited than anything to see how it would feel.

When they finally reached his room, Evelyn barely had time to inspect the impressive decor before she was promptly deposited on the bed.

Loki was on top of her immediately, occupying her tongue with his own as he palmed her breast, "We are wearing entirely too much clothing, pet," he said once his tongue left her mouth, his eyes even with hers, "Let’s fix that, shall we?"

Wordlessly, he leaned off of her to remove his shirt with expert quickness, leaving Evelyn to gawk at his muscles.

I didn’t know abs could be this lickable…

Evelyn realized she must have been staring too long when she heard a chuckle above her, “Keep staring, and I just might blush,”

His fingers moved to tease the strap of her dress, “ While this dress is beautiful, I would much prefer what’s underneath.”

Before she could even protest, he pulled it down in one swift motion. Evelyn opted to go without a bra since the dress had built-in cups, so her brown, perky nipples immediately met the hungry eyes of her professor.

Out of reflex, her hands immediately went to cover them, her body growing impossibly hot, “ Wait - you could’ve warned me at least-“

Loki dragged her hands away from her breasts roughly, pinning them to the sides of her head, “Don’t you dare hide from me. Not now,” he growled, licking his lips as he locked eyes with her breasts once more, “Fuck...you’re perfect,” he panted heavily, before dipping his head to suckle a nipple into his mouth.

Evelyn didn’t expect that, and she jerked upwards due to the sensation, her eyes squeezed shut. Loki sucked and nipped at the tender bud, all while Evelyn whimpered and squirmed. Her breasts were especially sensitive, and he picked up on this fact rather quickly. Loki proceeded to exploit it, letting go of her wrist to tease the neglected breast with his fingers. He pinched her nipple, causing a shocked gasp to leave the girl's lips.

Loki released her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop eventually, smiling a bit evilly. “My my, so responsive,”

He pulled her dress down fully, leaving Evelyn in just her underwear. She merely laid there, her mind hazy as her breasts ached from residual pleasure.

Loki couldn’t resist fondling them a bit more, “ You have no idea...how much I’ve wanted to touch you like this, with no barriers,” Loki leaned down between the crevices of her breasts, trailing reverent kisses down to her belly button, “My sweet, perfect girl...”

Evelyn’s breathing picked up in anticipation once he reached the hem of her underwear.

She was so unbelievably wet from just his tongue on her breasts, that there was a string of her arousal once he began to remove it.

“Spread your legs for me,” he demanded huskily. Evelyn’s eyes remained closed until she felt a strong grip on her jaw, forcing her eyes to open, “ Eyes on me, pet. And once again, spread your legs for me.”

She gulped at the authority in his voice, his aura exuding severe dominance. Evelyn promptly obeyed, locking her eyes with his own as she hesitantly opened her legs.

“Good girl,” He purred, rubbing the top of her knees affectionately. Evelyn could feel another flood of arousal rushing forth because of those two words once again.

Holy shit, what is this man doing to me?!

Loki bent down, and she watched through lidded eyes as he began to kiss and nip at her inner thighs, inching closer and closer towards her sex. Her breathing turned ragged with excitement, but the devil between her legs decided to take his merry time, never once touching where she needed him the most.

She tried to hold out as long as possible against his incessant teasing, but she began to beg after just ten minutes of his licking and sucking, “Please...please just - ah!” She jolted against his face once she felt his warm tongue lick right up her slit, her fingers twisting against the sheets.

Smiling, he gave her pussy a chaste kiss, “ Your pretty little cunt is so sensitive,” He moved his thumb up and down along her slit, dipping it inside her entrance lightly “ and you get so fucking wet,”

She knew he could curse a lot because of their previous encounters, but man can he talk dirty. Her eloquent, well-mannered professor was a sordid menace in bed, and the thought that she brought out this side of him aroused her greatly.

He removed his thumb from her slit, replacing them with two fingers instead. She was so wet, that they slipped right in with no issue. Evelyn clenched her walls tightly as he curled his fingers, thrusting them in an upwards motion as he sucked at her swollen clit.

“Holy fuh…!” Her words died down as her hand flew to his head, her back lifting off the bed at the sensory overload. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue at a steady rhythm, and she couldn’t help but writhe, feeling a pressure slowly building in her abdomen.

Loki could tell she was close by her frantic breathing and clenching, so he removed his tongue from her clit to apply pressure to it with his thumb, “You’re doing so good, Evelyn. My good girl,”

“Please...please…” she wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for - but whatever he was doing with his fingers made her feel so good, she wasn’t sure she could take any more of it.

“You’re so close, pet. Let go, cum for me.” And she did. She came on his hands with another curl of his fingers inside her, causing an unexpected scream to rip from her throat.

White appeared behind her eyelids as her eyes twitched shut from her orgasm, her skin twitching and rippling at the sheer amount of pleasure.

Evelyn laid limp, breathless and sweaty against the bed. She felt as though she was floating, not grounded into reality. Opening her eyes slowly, she mindlessly watched as he unbuckled his belt, throwing it aside to rid himself of his pants.

Unexpectedly, he wasn’t wearing any briefs, so his leaking, engorged cock bobbed proudly as soon as he released himself. And goodness did it really hit her. That huge thing was going to go inside of her.

Evelyn let out a small whimper as she stared at his dick, feeling slightly apprehensive.

Loki noticed her nervousness, reassuring her gently, “Shh...relax, it will hurt if you tense,” he paused then as if remembering something. He reached across from her to open his drawer that was beside the bed, pulling out a condom, “While I’d love to fuck you raw, we wouldn’t want a happy little accident, now would we?”

Evelyn would’ve laughed at the subtle Bob Ross reference if she wasn’t so focused on what was to come.

He brought a hand to her leg, resting it on her knees as he took his cock in the other, rubbing it against her entrance, “ Remember, relax.”

And then, he began to push in.

Thankfully, he made sure she was adequately wet enough since it would be her first time, or else it would’ve hurt like hell.

Evelyn moaned mildly in pain, the shock of the intrusion causing her to tense immensely. He paused, massaging her stomach while kissing the tears away from her cheek, “Just a little more, love. You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, the feel of her tight, fluttering walls maddening.

She slowly started to relax under his soothing ministrations, giving him the go-ahead to continue pushing in. And with one more steady push, he was fully nestled inside.

“Fuck…” he moaned almost breathlessly, his eyes fluttering shut at the enveloping warmth around his cock, “You feel like absolute heaven.”

Evelyn was biting her lips hard enough that they could draw blood, so he began to kiss her in a languid manner. She slowly brought her hands around his neck, burying her hand into his silky tresses as she lost herself against his lips, forgetting the momentary pain.

Loki began moving in slow pumps, holding her body against his so that her breasts flattened against his chest. The pain was ebbing away, and pleasure began to spread as he started hitting a particular spot, “You - mmh! You… you can go a bit faster…now...”

Since he received the go-ahead, he picked up the pace, delivering several shallow thrusts at a steady rhythm. The sounds of their skin slapping together filled the room, and Loki could hear she was slowly growing wetter with each thrust, “You had nothing to worry about, little one. See? You fit my cock perfectly, just like a glove.”

It wasn’t long until he started going faster, the pace growing more relentless as time went on. Evelyn started screaming his name repeatedly, her voice growing progressively hoarser, “Loki, Loki! P...please, wait just, - too much, too much! -“

She wasn’t sure she could handle the brutal thrusts of his cock much longer. He refused to slow down, holding her hands above her head as he continued to fuck her into the bed, his eyes glazed with animalistic pleasure.

Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head, and her professor’s sinful voice filtered into her ears, “If you ask nicely like the good girl you are, perhaps then I’ll show you some mercy, hmm?”

“Please...please…”

“Please what, girl. Use your words,”

“Please...sir, please make me come...!”

With that, he released her wrists to thumb at her clit - and Evelyn swore that she saw stars in that very moment, her brain going blank completely. Loki almost cursed once more as she clenched tightly around his cock, the sensation finally bringing him to completion. He groaned loudly as he came, her name falling from his lips as he pulled out, slumping forward.

It took a while for Loki to compose himself before he began to shift his weight, so that she wasn’t crushed beneath his body.

As for Evelyn, the poor thing was worked to exhaustion, and passed out shortly after her final orgasm.

---------------------------

A/N: 

Hope ya'll enjoyed that hefty dose of smut. I know I certainly did. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Please let me know what you think, since I'm still insecure about writing smut scenes. What in particular did you enjoy, or dislike? Again, thanks for reading!

[hunnybadgerv]

WIP words: coincide, welcome, shame

Again, there’s the tiny caveat that while I do have 10 drafts in progress right now, at least ones that are recently written, they are limited in their scope. I’m torn about dipping into some of the WIPs I haven’t touched since spring to add a little diversity to this. This is why I’m glad I started using my story tracker again. Reminds me of the pieces that are still working even when my brain grabs hold of something else with a vengeance.

COINCIDE: (I had to dig for this one, even had to break down and grab a WIP I haven’t worked on since early this year. But here have some Siobhán and crew meeting up with an unexpected Abomination in a warehouse. In fact, I clipped far more of this than I intended originally because I am kind of really proud of my interpretation of the scene. But that could just be ego speaking. Though I should perhaps caution, that I kind of replace the DA magic system with something more akin to D&D, just because I find the DA system lacking and impersonal.)

Her gaze locked on the blue eyes of a young woman cowering, curled up in the middle of the floor. Her face dropped into her hands just before the convulsions started. Hawke’s eyes widened in horror as fire seemed to engulf the other mage. She didn’t know what was happening at first. But in another few heartbeats, the raiders weren’t the only ones caught unawares when a beast rose from where that girl shivered.

Siobhán knew as well as anyone that mages were susceptible to possession by demons. And she had heard of it happening, but never witnessed it for herself. It was terrifying and heartbreaking all at once. The girl called for help and someone answered; Siobhán just wished she’d gotten here sooner.

“You know nothing of magic!” a dark disembodied voice told the raiders. Its hands glowed purple as the abomination lashed out, lightning arching from gnarled fingers.

“Get the raiders. Leave the abomination to me,” she told her companions, who had waited for the fire to clear out before following through the door.

From her knees, Siobhán arced lightning through the room, which flashed bright white as the crackle of ozone filled the long thin room as it jumped from the ghastly form of the possessed mage to several of the raiders. While it stunned the men, the beast turned and growled at her. Clearly, she’d angered it, but that had been her intent. A simple string of syllables passed Hawke’s lips and a burst of thunderous sound shook the room, barely staggering the abomination.

It shambled toward her and swiped at her with skeletal, long arms and sharp elongated fingers. Blood dribbled down her cheek with a tickle, the metallic scent of it nearly overpowering the sharp scent the lightning left behind.

Reaching out for Varric’s arm, Siobhán whispered another incantation when she saw the demon’s hands sheathe with fire. With the last word, she and the dwarf vanished. Immediately after she disappeared, a thunderous boom sounded. A moment later, she and Varric appeared on the other side of the room.

Varric reached out for her arm, disoriented by the teleportation. “What was that?” His question coincided with an explosion that would have engulfed them both in a ball of fire if she hadn’t been

“Just a trick,” Siobhán said. Her attention remained on the creature across the room from her. Its eyes glowed with rage as it lashed out with lightning directed straight at her.

Her shield went up a second too late and her body stiffened and her nerves felt like they were on fire. With a wave of her hand a sphere of water about the size of her head appeared, and before it fell to the floor another motion formed several sharp shards of ice that hovered in midair for a moment before the flick of her wrist sent them shooting across the room at the abomination. Varric followed suit, firing a volley of crossbow bolts with Bianca.

The beast cried out and crumpled, and the pair shifted their attention to the one remaining man whose sword clanged off Aveline’s shield. Isabela danced behind him and dug her dagger in his back. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise as she pulled the blade free.

“Well, I can say that’s a first,” Aveline said, looking directly at Siobhán.

“For me, too,” Siobhán admitted.

“I thought that was a mage thing?” Isabela asked.

Siobhán eyed her harshly, as if the pirate might be able to read every drop of irriration that statement conjured up. “See if you can find anything that will tell us what they did with Feynriel,” she said, stripping her gaze from Isabela and glancing at Varric.

“It was so nice to see Rainer again,” Isabela said, looking down at the corpse as she twirled her dagger back into its sheathe.

There was a hint of menace in her voice that made Varric and Siobhán chuckle. Aveline seemed far less amused as she followed Hawke towards the mangled form of the former mage.

WELCOME: (Again, I went digging a little farther back to December of 2019. Clearly I need to revise and proof this because it’s been resting more than long enough to have been polished up. This is for my Doc-mancer, Amaryn a Sith Pureblood Jedi Knight--because that needed to be a thing.)

Hidden among the stars, amid the gentle hum of her ships engines, in the lithe arms of the man who tended all their wounds, Amaryn Rha could always find a moment of comfort. Something always drew her toward the medbay on the lower decks. She finally knew what it was—her heart.

When she entered, Doc looked up and flashed her one of those crooked smirks. Setting aside the datapad in his hand he crossed the room. She met him halfway, but they stopped, just inches from the welcome back kiss that had become like a ritual for them.

“Missed me, huh?” Doc said.

“Always.”

His fingertips grazed her jaw, tipping her chin upward gently. His eyes moved over her face, his lips curved into a sweeter smile. Then he slowly bent toward her. She welcomed his kiss, craved it with every fiber of her being. When he pulled her against him, her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, holding on with all her strength.

They moved in tandem in a dance she learned some of the steps to from him. Her hips met the edge of the medical table, caught there between cool metal and his warm body.

“I prefer to not be apart from you,” she whispered against his lips.

“Then you shouldn’t leave without me. Never know when you might have need of Ol’ Doc’s talents.”

“Talents, huh?” she asked with a wide grin that broke into laughter when he lifted her onto the examination table.

He pressed another passionate kiss to her lips. His fingertips traced down her neck, tracing the ridges that ran down her sternum.

“Like quick hands,” he whispered against her mouth. He bared her shoulder to the amorous march of his lips.

“Doc,” she whispered against his cheek. “Anyone could walk past.”

“Mmm, perhaps.”

Amaryn shivered; it could have been the nonchalance in his tone or the shift of cool air across her skin when his hand tickled against her side as he opened her robes. Regardless, her pulse pounded in her veins as her eyes darted to the open door. Doc sucked at the pliant skin of her neck, drawing a quiet moan from her. Her eyes slipped closed in response to the overload of sensations—her own fretting about the inherent risk seemed to intensify every touch, the smoothness of his hands baring her skin, the chill in the air and cold metal clasps on his shirt against warm flesh, the brush of rough fabric warmed by his body, the heat of his mouth and sharpness of his teeth.

It was enough to drive her mad there on the spot. “Please,” she breathed, pulling at the back of his shirt.

SHAME: (Ok, somehow this word is absent from a lot of my in draft WIPs, I mean I had to dig for this word in an unpublished fic. I honestly went to a piece I haven’t touched in 3 years--September of 2017 to be exact. Yes, I actually track those kinds of things in my document notes. It’s part of a large piece that I intend to complete entirely before posting any pieces of. It is Aderyn and Cullen after she returns to Kirkwall after the trip to the Deep Roads. It is one of the few pieces that is at the moment still part of this WIP--I’ve trashed a good bit of this piece in the years I’ve been working on it.)

In shame, like so many other times before, he looked away, staring at his hands, calloused and scarred. She had held his heart in such gentle hands and he’d thrown that away despite all his promises to do the opposite. Even with that thought, his mind jumped to excuse it, justify the actions took, that he begged her father to help ensure. True, it protected her in one way. The measure keep her entire family safe, but still he was sure now that he’d broken her heart entirely. His own ached keenly with the separation, with his own uncertainty.

Finally, his wandering halted and he took a seat on the bench that faced the center of Kirkwall. Leaning back against the cool stone, he stared upwards. Past the stairs toward the keep of the city that loomed over all.  

His fixation left him vulnerable. Staring up towards the clouds dusted in sunset hues of orange and pink swirled just beyond the peaks of the keep’s roof, his attention focused on their wispy dancing as he tried to calm the argument in his head. At least until the ring of wood on stone rang in his ears. Cullen whipped his head toward the sudden and foreign sound. He locked eyes with Aderyn Hawke, aghast to find her there within a stretch of his arm.

How long had she been there, he wondered, staring blatantly at her. How long had he been unaware of her presence? He hoped not too long, that would be far more unforgivable.

“You really should try to be a bit less conspicuous, Knight-Captain,” she said with a tone that mixed familiarity and propriety in the strangest way.

With the formality of her, of all people, using his title, Cullen looked away. It pushed away at the rising spark of hope that dared blaze in his hollow chest when he saw her. “Perhaps you are correct, serah. I should have thought this through a bit more clearly." He stood and started to walk past her.

"Why did you come?" she asked in a quiet tone paved over with a calm which tried to conceal the quiver beneath.

When he looked at her, those eyes like the cloudless noontime sky were locked upon the place where her hand gripped a familiar staff, her father's, if memory did not fail. He stood beside her in that still moment, his skin prickling from the impassable proximity. Finally he lifted his eyes to survey the growing dark of the passing dusk.

"I cannot be certain from one moment to the next,” he admitted. It was true enough. Sometimes he came to apologize for being foolish and selfish, other times he came to beg her forgiveness and for the chance to find what they had again. Some days, he just felt an aching need to see her, maybe hear her voice or her laughter carried on the breeze. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch.44

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! I am pleased to announce that this chapter has been beta’d by @parisconstantine​ this time... I know, right?  I’m working on getting back ahead of things, since March and April pretty much ate my buffer chapters.

I promised some of you that Simon not having Miys help him with social interactions would have some pretty hilarious repercussions, and hopefully I do not disappoint with this chapter.  Also, we get to see a bit more of our favorite grumpy-puss, Alistair Worthington (created by @baelpenrose​), and a little more of his personality beyond ‘total grouch’.

My new Administrator was thrown almost immediately into the thick of things.  Simon had taken my suggestion to try interacting with people sans Miys proof ‘reading’ his conversation; this alone led to social gaffes by the minute, to the horror of the man newly forced to work in close proximity with us.  Tyche, for her part, wasted no time in making it clear that she was no longer my acting Administrator, first by uploading my entire calendar to the former archivist’s data set and spending about an hour showing him how to set up the alerts necessary to ensure he was constantly one step ahead. New items and requests were directed to him, even while he was working to get on top of existing commitments. To top it all off, he had come on board in the midst of the Food Festival planning, which included coordinating with Sebastian Reed for the grand opening of his pub.

Alistair Worthington rose to the occasion like he had been born to do it.

“Why have humans never quite evolved the understanding that the word ‘no’ is a complete sentence,” he grumbled rhetorically. It had been only ten days since his replacement took over in the Archives, and only nine since he started devoting nearly fifteen hours a day to getting caught up.

“What is it this time?” I asked, more out of curiosity than any concern that he had declined something without even asking my opinion.  Worst case, I could override his decline.

He simply glared at me. “One of the vendors for the Food Festival is adamant on being positioned between the halal and kosher vendors.”  I gestured for him to go on, since that alone was not cause for alarm. “Miss Reid – “

“Sophia,” I interrupted. “We are going to be working entirely too closely together, so I prefer you call me Sophia.”

“Sophia,” he conceded with a chagrined look. “They want to set up a bacon buffet.”

I choked on the tea I had been taking a sip of, sputtering inelegantly all over the floor – fortunately missing Alistair. “That’s pretty brave.” I gasped, trying to convince my lungs that the tea was gone.

He shook his head and held out a cloth to wipe my face with. “Survived an assassination attempt, only to be felled by a cup of ginger tea.  Your epitaph will be set the standard for decades to come.” As I fought to glare at him and smother a laugh, he continued. “I understand that all meat products on the ship are artificially constructed from protein banks, and therefore everything will be kosher, halal, and vegetarian, but that is quite beside the point. It’s rude.”

“I completely agree,” I conceded, holding my hands up in a peaceful gesture. “The entire point of the festival is to bring everyone together with respect and unity, which putting a pork palace between those specific vendors is most certainly not doing.  My question is who even approved a ‘bacon buffet’ in the current climate?  I love bacon as much as the next pork-eater, but come on!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “With all the terrorists who were just executed, it’s just tacky!”

Rather than answer immediately, he dug through the vendor’s application. With a groan, he flicked the file over to me.  I echoed his sentiment when I saw the approver. “That explains a lot,” I sighed before looking up at the ceiling. “Simon, did you really approve a bacon buffet for the festival?”

The response was nearly immediate. “Yeeesssss?” he answered uncertainly. “It sounded like a delicious idea.  Lots of people are really passionate about bacon, and did you see some of the flavors?  Cayenne and tupelo honey, Sophia! It sounds amazing!”

My assistant looked like Simon had just asked him to eat waste materials.  I just ground my teeth and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Simon. Why are we having this festival?”

“Ship’s unity,” he responded suspiciously.

“And why do we need that?”

“Because some people tried to sabotage the ship and kill everyone on board?”

“Correct. And what were those people?”

“Terrorists.”

“True, but not what I’m looking for. Arantxa Bidarte was…” I trailed off, praying he would figure out what I was getting at.

“A high-ranking – ohhhhhhhhhh. Shit.”

“Yep, a high-ranking shit. In the Baconist movement.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I wasn’t thinking clearly on the optics.” He really did sound contrite.  I knew he was trying, so I wasn’t going to be hard on him.

“It’s okay,” I sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to do something like that.  And we can fix this.  How about you tell him you reconsidered his offer, and due to recent events we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to have an entire alcove dedicated to just bacon. However, there are several vendors who will be serving items that can include bacon, and we will happily put him in touch with all of them to let them feature some of his wares in their dishes, including advertising.” Alistair hummed and nodded in approval at that compromise.  “And Simon? Before you send that, reach out to Sebastian with the entire list of this guy’s bacon flavors.  Let him have first dibs.  From what I’ve seen of the food he’ll be serving, he has a great mind for flavors and will probably have a dozen ideas before he even finishes reading the list.”

“You just want that sundried tomato and basil bacon in a Bloody Mary,” he accused playfully.

“You know it, because you do too,” I retorted before sticking out my tongue.

His voice softened. “Thank you for catching that, Sophia. Seriously.  And for helping me figure out how to fix it.”

I waved my hand absent-mindedly. “It’s okay, Simon. You’re trying to figure out people again, and mistakes happen.  If no one helps you figure out how to, we can’t exactly expect you to fix them, right?”

“I’ll reach out to everyone now,” he confirmed before going silent.

When I looked at Alistair, he had a very approving expression on his face. Before I could say anything, it was gone, replaced with a smirk. “Bacon, in a Bloody Mary?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure it’s something distinctly American,” I explained. “But don’t knock it until you try it.  Perfect amount of salt, I’m telling you.”

He shuddered, but I had spent enough time around him at this point to know it was faked. “The entire drink is the most American thing I have ever seen, to be honest.  Imagine, someone from the former United Kingdom naming a drink after the Usurper. Not likely, I am telling you.”

“Considered the second most common garnish is pickled okra, I can’t exactly argue with you on that,” I laughed. “I don’t think there is a vegetable more American than okra.”

“Corn,” he pointed out, distracted as he went through the items on his data pad. Since he started working with me, he had gone from hardly using it to keeping it displayed the majority of the day. Eventually, things would calm down, but until then it was a frequent thing to see him forget to dismiss it and just have it projecting at his side, following his gestures. “Councillors Kalloe and Hodenson have sent a notification that the gravity will be increasing – again? – and to be prepared for any inquiries. Wait, what is this ‘again’ nonsense?” Consternation and mild alarm warred on his face.

I nodded firmly. “Yes, ‘again’. The gravity on Kepler 422b is estimated to be half again the gravity of Earth. While it isn’t anything that will hurt anyone on the ship, the effects of such a sudden gravity change are enough to be worrisome if done to anyone suddenly. Fatigue, blood pressure slowing down, slight dizziness, muscle soreness, etc. The decision was made right before the incident on Level One to slowly increase the gravity on the Ark by five percent of Earth gravity at a time.  Once we are certain that nobody is experiencing any long-term effects, or the effects have been addressed, we schedule the next increase.”  I shrugged, since we had no reports of any effects from the first increase.  As a matter of fact, no one even noticed.

“And you felt there was no need to inform anyone on the ship?”

“Oh, we informed everyone,” I assured him, though I felt a bit guilty. “We sent a ship-wide notification, including what to do if anyone noticed any of a long list of side-effects.  And we will be sending another notification before we do the next one.”

“I would remember if I received such a notification,” was the stiff response.

“Yeah, about that,” I told him sheepishly. “We dropped out of FTL about three hours after it was sent.  In our defense,” I held up my hands to fend of any protests, “that was entirely beyond our control, and the entire Council was too preoccupied to cancel the process or send a reminder. By the time it was all said and done, the change had been in effect for over three months.  I’m not saying it was okay, at all.  The goal was never to be sneaky. To make sure it doesn’t happen again, we are making a point to send the next one a week after the Food Festival, with full audio cast directly into our implants.” I tapped my left temple for emphasis. “And the process has to be triggered, rather than being set with a timed automation.”

“So, God forbid some other crisis occurs, the change will just have to wait?” he asked reproachfully.

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to be acceptable, as he quickly changed the topic. “About what happened with Councillor Simon. That was quite kind of you, Miss – Sophia.”

I could feel my face heating up as I shook my head, hair flying. “Simon has had a very unique experience, and he needs someone in his corner.  The fact is, he was brought on this ship before anyone else, and there is a reason he was chosen, just like everyone else.  He has value, but he and everyone else seems to have forgotten that.  I refuse to do the same and just forget that, too. And until he believes in himself… well, I’ll just have to believe in him enough for everyone on this ship.”

With that, I stood to leave for the evening. It was Wednesday, and the first ‘family dinner’ in a long time.  I needed this night, and nothing was going to stand in my way.  Exchanging a nod with my Administrator, I padded out of my office.  I hadn’t gone far when I heard a quiet comment, not intended for me to hear.

“With faith like that, I truly believe the mountain came to Mohammed,” Alistair stated softly as I walked away.

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[gold-from-straw]

Crush

This is a fic I wrote after I accidentally flirted with @unticka by telling her I had a crush on the person in her profile pic.

And then found out it was her ACTUAL FACE and had to go and crawl into a hole. Luckily she agreed it should be a Cherik fic so here we go lol!

Read this utterly silly fluffy thing on AO3 if you prefer ^_^ Warnings for some allusion to past drug addiction and lots of Erik being a socially anxious bean.

Erik’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, smirking at the comment Charles had added to their chat.

CX: I swear on all that’s holy if one of you brings Jaegermeister to my party this year I will scream

CX: I found the last bottle in the back of my cupboard. I can smell it through the glass I am not even joking

Erik pushed himself forwards and quickly typed brb, just going to the liquor store, grinning as it appeared on the screen.

Raven cleared her throat, and Erik looked up. “Are you quite finished?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the group chat I invited you to join, but I am now sitting in front of you. In the flesh. Buying you coffee.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly and put his phone away.

“It’s fine,” she smirked. “You and Charles are getting along well, I see.”

“He’s an idealistic idiot,” said Erik immediately.

She nodded and sipped her latte. “And he makes you laugh. Honestly, you two need to just start messaging each other directly, let the rest of us get a look in on the group chat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his face dropping. “I never meant to irritate anyone.”

She shook her head. “You’re not, really, I’m only teasing. Don’t take me seriously, Erik, you know I’m full of shit.”

He twisted his lips and nodded, but he didn’t believe her. There was no smoke without fire, after all, and she had been kind enough to introduce him to all of her friends when he moved to New York. He didn’t know what he’d have done without those contacts. The only reason he hadn’t spent his entire first month in his apartment alone was because of Raven and her friends.

She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Erik, I really was only joking.”

“Are you sure I’m not imposing on the group?”

“Absolutely. Look, you’ll see on Friday when we all get together for Charles’ birthday up in Westchester. I know you’ve met Sean and Emma already, the others are looking forward to getting to know you in person too. And if you and Charles start debating politics again there are plenty of empty rooms we can lock you in together until you sort your shit out. We’ll just eat the pizza and watch the movie.”

“Without the birthday boy?” Erik laughed.

“Oh, a good argument will be Charles’ favourite birthday gift of the day, trust me,” Raven said, flicking her red hair back.

Erik tucked his phone into his bag and focused completely on Raven for the next couple of hours, discussing the latest gossip, the assignment Raven had to do on her poetry module and whether Erik had found an actual bed, yet, or if he was still sleeping on the futon they’d found on Craigslist when he first arrived in New York.

Erik was proud of himself for not having glanced at his phone until he was walking the last stretch between the subway and his apartment. A new message showed up on his phone, and Erik would have denied to his dying day that he got a little jolt under his sternum when he saw the name come up - Charles Xavier. He clicked on the notification.

CX: My friends tell me I need to talk to you directly rather than through the group chat. Apparently we’re clogging up the airwaves.

Erik’s smile pulled at his cheeks and he tugged his bag higher on his shoulder, freeing up both hands to type.

EL: Raven told me the same thing

CX: They’re obviously just jealous

EL: Or not nearly interesting enough.

Charles sent back a laughing emoji and Erik tapped on his profile picture, trying to enlarge it a little, as he so often did when he spoke to Charles. He’d always idly thought that someone’s profile picture could tell you a little bit about them. His own was a picture of a great white shark that Raven had texted him from the aquarium saying ‘he’s got your smile’. Hank had a picture of a southern blotting array, apparently - he’d asked, once, and left none the wiser. Moira and Sean had pictures of actors, Emma had a picture of herself flipping the bird, and Raven’s picture changed every couple of days, a landscape, a piece of artwork, a macro close up of a leaf, whatever she felt like at the time.

Charles’ photo had to be of an actor or a celebrity of some sort. The photo was clearly professionally taken, for a magazine or something. The man in the picture had dark brown hair falling in waves around his face, a broad nose and the most gorgeous lips, quirked into a half smile, as if the actor, whoever he was, didn’t want the photographer to know he was amused. He was wearing a blazer, his blue shirt open at the top few buttons to show tantalizing hints of collarbone and freckles. And his eyes. Oh, dear god, his eyes, so wide and blue and staring right into Erik’s soul.

Erik definitely had a crush on the nameless actor. But the best thing about it was that if Charles had a picture of some pretty actor on his profile, he was also probably, maybe, possibly queer himself.

His phone chimed, and he clicked back off the picture.

CX: Raven tells me you’re definitely coming to the party on Friday! It’ll be good to meet you in person, my friend

EL: Thank you for inviting me - are you sure you want a complete stranger there??

CX: You’re hardly a stranger, we’ve been talking for weeks!

Erik found himself smiling again. Charles was so cheerful and friendly - what on earth was he doing chatting with a sarcastic misanthrope like Erik all the time?

EL: You’ve all been very kind. The people who told me New Yorkers were unfriendly are bastard liars

CX: Ah, well, I’m hardly a New Yorker, I’m afraid. I’m only Raven’s step-brother, and never managed to pick up the accent. I’m English

EL: To be fair people tell me the English are unfriendly too. Liars, the lot of them

Charles sent another laughing emoji, and Erik wondered what Charles sounded like when he laughed. He wondered what he looked like, for that matter.

EL: Can I bring anything to the party?

CX: Only yourself, please.

He didn’t know what it was that made him ask. What was he thinking? He couldn’t even blame the alcohol, because Raven and Sean had been monopolising most of that on the drive up to Westchester, and he couldn’t blame his giddy mood on the others, because Moira had been talking to him most of the trip about the recent opinion polls. So why? Why in the name of all that’s holy had he sat back after they stopped to pick up some more beer, opened up the messaging app and texted Charles?

EL: I have to confess, I’ve got a massive crush on the guy in your profile picture, and it’s driving me mad - who is he? I don’t recognise him from any films

And then the reply that made the bottom drop out of Erik’s world and made his stomach cold with horror.

CX: Oh… well, that’s very flattering. It’s a picture Raven took of me a couple of years ago

And now what the hell was Erik going to do? He couldn’t ask Moira to stop the car so he could run out into the woods and become a hermit. He couldn’t exactly brush it off. He couldn’t take it back. What he wouldn’t do for the ability to go back in time and tell him to leave his fucking phone alone.

He wanted to apologise, but why would Charles even want to talk to him? How creepy was it to hear someone had been checking out a picture of you? He’d thought it was a photo of an actor, but there was no way he’d ever have told the actor he found him captivating. What was Charles meant to do with this information now, when Erik was about to turn up at his door and impose on his hospitality for hours?

Part of him wanted to send him a photo of himself as some sort of twisted apology, but what was that meant to do? Was Charles meant to go ‘oh, I too have a crush on you!’

“What’s up, Erik?” Raven asked, shoving his shoulder.

“I just told accidentally told someone I have a crush on them,” he croaked, just taking Charles’ name out of the equation before he could fuck things up even further.

“How the hell did you do that?” she laughed, taking another draw of her beer.

“I didn’t know it was their picture,” he moaned. “I just wanted to know which actor it was and it was them.”

“Show me!” she said, grabbing for his phone. He stuffed it between his legs, and she narrowed her eyes at him, calculating. “Don’t think that’s a no-go area for me, Lehnsherr.”

“How am I going to look them in the eye now?” Erik wailed instead, covering his face with his hands.

“I bet she was pleased,” Sean said, turning around from the front passenger seat. “It’s a compliment, isn’t it? Not like you were creepy to the girl, were you?”

“No,” he said, not bothering to correct Sean’s assumptions. “I mean, not deliberately… but it’s creepy to think someone’s been looking at your picture that way, isn’t it?”

“Only if you’ve been wanking over it,” Sean shrugged.

“Sean!” yelped Moira, slapping him on the arm.

“Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

Raven patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” she said. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have you perving over them.”

“Oh god, don’t put it that way!” he yelled.

***

He spent the rest of the drive trying to work out what to say in response, to work out exactly how he could apologise and regain a little bit of his pride. He knew he was overthinking this, Raven, Sean and Moira had changed the subject and started chatting about something else quickly enough, but he was already worked up about meeting so many new people, to have made such a social faux pas before he’d even met them was almost unbearable. So much for thinking he’d got his social anxiety under control.

The worst thing about it, the thing he really couldn’t admit to, wasn’t that he’d just told some stranger he thought he was pretty. It was that he’d told Charles he had a crush on his face. Charles. He already had a fucking crush on Charles through his messages! Now he was going to have to meet him for the first time without being able to hide his feelings, rather than feeling out whether Charles would be open to maybe going out for coffee or dinner with him, he was dumped straight past that careful searching right into blurting out ‘gosh you’re pretty!’

And then he had to walk up the drive to the most fucking gorgeous mansion, Raven making sarcastic comments about how she fucking hated the place and she didn’t know how Charles could stand living in all the bitter memories of their shitty childhood, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he just… ran off round the side and didn’t stop until he found some summerhouse or something - Americans had those, didn’t they? - and just hid there until he could sneak back into the car at the end of the party.

Raven shoved the door open. “Charles? Hey, birthday boy!”

Emma poked her head around the corner. “He disappeared somewhere about fifteen minutes ago, we were gonna send a search party. But you guys have beer, so fuck that!” She kissed them all in turn, waving them through to a huge panelled living room where people were scattered over leather couches and a pool table that had been pushed to the side. “Hey, everyone! This is Erik, be nice.” She smirked at him and left.

Erik stood tall and smiled at everyone. Mistake. A gangly lad slouching on the pool table actually squeaked. It seemed Erik had smiled like thatagain.

He toned it down and went to put his beers on a desk that was really never meant to be abused in such a way. The crowd mostly went back to their conversations, and Erik felt like he could breathe again. At least until Charles came back.

But he didn’t come back. Another fifteen minutes passed. He made awkward conversation with a blond kid who looked about nineteen and like he’d be more at home in a biker gang, and then much less awkward conversation with a guy called Darwin who had some interesting opinions about the state of the education system, but got called away mid-rant.

And Charles still wasn’t there. Nobody seemed too bothered, but Erik couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault somehow. Like he’d made things weird and Charles didn’t want to see the guy who’d been enlarging his profile photo to get a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

Fuck. He needed to get out of there. He slipped quietly away from the room, back into a corridor, trying to find the main door, but the place was bloody huge. He must have taken the wrong turning somewhere. That door looked right - he turned the handle and… well, that was definitely not the door to the kitchen. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”

The man in the wheelchair turned, long brown hair flicking back over his shoulders, and startled, familiar, blue eyes met his. “Charles?” Erik asked, blinking.

Charles opened and shut his mouth. “Erik?”

Erik laughed. Somehow having him right there across from him made his earlier fuckup so much smaller. “God, I’m so sorry for my message, I didn’t know that was you in the picture, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Especially on your birthday.”

“Uncomfortable?” Charles blurted. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a dark room for about half an hour during your birthday party.” He frowned. “Actually that sounds like something I’d do.”

It startled a laugh out of Charles, just a short one, and Erik grinned. It sounded more lovely than-- shit, he shouldn’t be thinking like this, he’d already made things so awkward between them. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I can go if you--”

“No!” Charles cleared his throat. “I mean… you don’t have to. I’m… I just…” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was embarrassed.”

Erik winced. “Yeah, I can’t apologise enough.”

“Not about that,” he said, blue eyes peering up at him, and he looked so damn sad. Erik wanted to hug him. “I just… I should have changed that profile picture. I just… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Erik asked, frowning. He found himself crossing the room, sitting on an armchair across from Charles.

Charles gave a sad half-smile. “Well… it’s a bit misleading, isn’t it? I don’t look much like that any more. I mean, I’m getting better, I’m off the morphine, I’m… well, I’ve had a lot of help with everything. But I don’t… that’s not me in that picture any more, I suppose.”

Erik cocked his head on one side. “I recognised you.”

“I assume the wheelchair was a bit of a giveaway.” He glared at Erik suddenly. “I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore - I had some… issues with it to start with, but that’s not why I’m hiding. If people can’t cope with my disability they can fuck off. It’s…” He gestured to his face. “I’m not exactly… that person any more.”

“First of all,” said Erik, “I didn’t know you were in a wheelchair. I didn’t know you’d had an accident, I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a rough time but… I recognised you from that picture. Your eyes are the same, your nose.”

“Oh, God, my nose,” Charles said with a rueful chuckle. He glanced up at Erik, long lashes framing his perfect blue eyes. “Now you must think I’m terribly vain. Hiding in here because I’m worried my lovely new friend won’t have a crush on me any more now he knows I look like a washed up old junkie.”

Erik groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Then he looked up at Charles again, the soft brown curls framing his face and falling down to his chin. He wondered how the scruff on his cheeks would feel against his fingertips, and he took a step over the edge. “I had a crush on you before I knew that was your face,” he said quietly. “The way you talk, the way you argue, your passion - your bloody naivete, honestly, Charles! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person so we could talk properly, interrupt each other in person, discuss politics and literature and chess until everyone else around us gets bored and leaves.”

Charles smiled, a wide, sincere thing which curled up his cheeks and crinkled the skin by his eyes. “Well,” he said, the room dark and quiet around them. “And here I was thinking I was the only person who could fall for someone by text.”

[marypsue]

dubsdeedubs said:  lich + ford ´･ᴗ･ `

Once upon a time, I asked for prompts of a character and a monster, for which I would write a hundred-word drabble. This is...more than a hundred words, as you may be able to tell. Featuring major character undeath, Bill Cipher being Bill Cipher, a TAZ: Balance crossover, Greek mythology references, the Power of Mabel, and many many more words than I expected to write.

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

It takes barely any voltage at all to set Fordsy’s hair on fire.

It’s honestly a little disappointing. Keratin has no heat tolerance! And sheesh, does it ever whiff when it burns! It’s really inconsiderate of Fordsy, to stink up the place. Bill’s gonna have to punish him for that. As soon as he regains consciousness, of course. No fun in electrocuting somebody who isn’t awake to hate it!

Speaking of ‘being awake’, Sixer’s been hanging there with his head down for an ominously long time now. Bill gives his belly a poke, but the momentum just swings him limply back and forth, the chains giving a faint, pathetic clink-clink.

“You, uh, sure you didn’t break him there, boss?” Kryptos whines from somewhere behind Bill, and Bill can feel his faces heating up with rage. How dare that – that polygon question him? Bill Cipher?

“OF COURSE NOT!” he snaps. “I KNOW THIS HUMAN’S LIMITS BETTER THAN HE DOES! TESTED MOST OF ‘EM MYSELF!”

“Okay, but, he’s not doing a whole lot of screaming anymore.” Kryptos points one cautious finger around Bill, in Ford’s direction. “Or, um, moving.”

“KRYPTOS?” Bill says, cheerfully.

“Uh, yes, boss?”

“IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I’LL FEED YOU TO PYRONICA,” Bill says, still cheerful, turning back to his favourite pet human.

Unfortunately, Kryptos is right about one thing – Sixer isn’t doing a whole lot of moving anymore. More just kind of…hanging there and smoking slightly.

Boooo-ring.

Bill snaps his fingers, and a crackling blue arc of electricity leaps out of his pointed index finger to earth itself in Ford’s chest. Ford gives a pretty lame reprisal of the old kicking-and-screaming routine, his legs wobbling feebly against thin air, his ‘scream’ more of a tortured groan. It’s like he isn’t even trying.

“C’MON, SIXER, PUT SOME OOMPH INTO IT!” Bill complains, cutting the lightshow short. “THIS IS GETTING OLD! HAHA! JUST LIKE YOU!”

The only response he gets is the faint hiss of the little fires still going in Fordsy’s hair. He’s gonna have a constellation of bald spots when this is over.

“AW, COME ON,” Bill coos, tucking one finger under Ford’s tiny chin and gently lifting it from his chest. “DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE STILL SULKING ABOUT THE WHOLE ME-LYING-TO-GET-YOU-TO-DESTROY-YOUR-ENTIRE-DIMENSION THING!”

Ford’s eyes, which had been half-closed and downturned like he was ignoring Bill, suddenly flick up to stare directly into Bill’s pupil. Bill nearly drops Ford’s bristly little face in surprise at the ring of flickering red wrapped around each iris.

“OOH, SIXER, YOU’VE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME!” Bill crows, delighted. “SHOULDA KNOWN YOU HAD ONE LAST TRICK UP YOUR SLEEVE! THAT’S WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU, HOW THAT FUNNY LITTLE MEAT BRAIN OF YOURS NEVER STOPS TICKING!”

“Get your hands off me, Cipher,” Ford growls, under his breath, and it seems to Bill to have harmonics that it could only have picked up by echoing through some of the more Escherian corners of the Fearamid. “Or I can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“OH, I’M SO SCARED!” Bill laughs, rolling his eye. “WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO TO ME, FORDSY, BITE MY KNEES OFF?”

When Ford’s eyes narrow, spitting red sparks, Bill can’t help but laugh again. “NO, SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA DO HERE? I’M ALREADY HERE! THIS DIMENSION’S AS GOOD AS MINE!” He throws his arms wide, gesturing to the whole of the Fearamid and his crew, the carnage outside, the enormous rift that dominates the yellow sky. “AND IF IT WAS THE MAIN COURSE, THEN YOUR LAWS OF PHYSICS MADE A NICE AFTER-DINNER MINT! A LITTLE BLACK MAGIC’LL BE THE PERFECT TOOTHPICK! BUT GO AHEAD! LAY IT ON ME!”

Ford starts to open his big mouth, probably to make some stupid speech about the power of friendship or something, and Bill zaps him again. Whatever he was about to say vanishes in a strangled half-scream as his whole body jerks, jittering like a marionette with its strings caught in a high-voltage power line.

Oh, wait. That’s exactly what he is!

“WELL?” Bill demands, in between zaps and the hoarse, exhausted noises of distress Ford keeps making. “DO YOUR WORST! REALLY LET ME HAVE IT, SIXER! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT! DON’T – HOLD – BACK!”

Ford’s body gives one final, enormous spasm, and then falls limp, his voice cutting out as his head falls backwards. One boot twitches, one shoulder jumps, but there’s no intelligence, no intention behind the movements. Just leftover electricity sparking frazzled nerves and jerking Ford’s limbs around like the puppet he is.

Bill twirls to face the audience of Henchmaniacs who’ve assembled to watch the fun, blowing across the tip of his pointed finger like he’s blowing smoke away from the barrel of a pistol. He quickly considers a variety of clever one-liners, discards them all just as quickly as not clever enough. “WELL, THAT WAS DISAPPOINTING! SOMEBODY GET ME ANOTHER MARTINI.”

Nobody laughs. Nobody cheers. Nobody raises a glass. They all just stare, with these stupefied expressions.

“WHAT? YOU’VE NEVER SEEN ME CRISPY-FRY A GUY ALIVE BEFORE?” Bill asks, looking over the assembled crew of nightmares and monsters.

“Uh, boss?” Kryptos quavers, slowly raising one hand, and that’s when Bill realises that those expressions of awe mingled with horrified respect aren’t aimed at him, but at something slightly behind him.

“OH, SH-” he starts.

...

It was about a decade into his thirty years of wandering the multiverse that Ford had first stumbled across the crew of the Starblaster.

It wouldn’t be the last time their paths would cross. Over those thirty years, Ford thinks he’d encountered the IPRE no fewer than seventeen times. Whether or not they were the same IPRE every time is a matter he prefers not to think about. It raises entirely too many questions that he isn’t certain he even wants the answers to.

He doesn’t remember exactly when the seed of an idea was planted. Doesn’t remember exactly when he realised the parallels between their situation and his. Both running from a world-devouring horror, both the only ones able to end its reign of terror. But, unlike the crew of the Starblaster, if Ford loses his life in his travels, he doesn’t get another at the end of a year. And there’s no one else who can stop Bill Cipher if he falls.

Ford’s always known that Bill Cipher would kill him, one day. He’d dared to hope that they would go down together, Holmes and Moriarty locked in deadly struggle over the edge of the Reichenbach Falls. But he’s always known, in the back of his mind, that it might come to this. That he might die before he has a chance to defeat Bill Cipher.

Thankfully, he thinks, before the electrical charge stops his heart and short-circuits his brain for good, he’s made sure that’s not a problem anymore.

...

The Shacktron’s almost within punching distance of the ominous floating black pyramid when the pyramid suddenly shudders in the sky.

“What -” Dipper starts, peering up through the Shacktron’s window. He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, though, because the pyramid gives another heaving shudder and then – explodes.

Well, okay, only one side of it explodes, with a sound like extremely distant and extremely loud fireworks, a burst of rainbow-edged black rubble, and ropes of crackling red lightning. Dipper has to blink a couple times to be sure he’s seeing right, but – yep, that’s the gigantic, hateful yellow face of Bill Cipher flying at top speed out of the middle of the pyramid wall in a shower of rubble, looking extremely surprised.

He’s followed by –

Dipper’s first, slightly crazy thought is that it’s a ball of red neon yarn, halfway through unravelling, like the ones Mabel’s always got three or four of hidden somewhere under her sweater. Then he thinks it’s ball lightning, like they’re always trying to use to explain away UFO sightings. But it’s more like…a ball of yarn, only the yarn is lightning. And wearing…a ratty old tan trenchcoat?

“Oh no,” Dipper mutters.

Bill whirls in midair, rounding on the crackling ball of electricity that Dipper’s somehow sure is his Great-Uncle Ford. Somehow. The last time he’d seen Ford, Ford had admittedly not been an amorphous mass – okay, more of a very rough, gigantic, skeletal humanoid figure, now – made of red lightning. But then again, the last time Ford had seen Dipper, Dipper wasn’t helping pilot a giant robot. It’s the end of the world. His great-uncle turning into a lightning-monster…skeleton?...isn’t the weirdest thing Dipper’s seen in the last twenty-four hours.

Although, he has to admit, it’s up there.

Bill’s voice reverberates through the air, rattling the Shacktron’s windows. “WELL THEN! THANKS FOR THE NEW PICTURE WINDOW, BUT I CAN’T SAY YOU’VE GOT MUCH OF A FUTURE IN INTERIOR DESIGN, SIXER!”

He raises one monstrous, noodly black fist, and Dipper feels something cold slither down his spine.

“CAN’T SAY YOU’VE GOT MUCH OF A FUTURE AT ALL!” Bill crows, before swinging that fist, like the hand of Fate, at the sparking figure that is Ford –

- and right through him.

“WHAT?!” Bill screeches, a feedback whine that forces Dipper to clap both hands over his ears if he wants to keep his eardrums.

Despite the fact that the thing that was Ford doesn’t really have any clear facial features, Dipper can still tell, somehow, that he’s smiling.

Bill’s eye narrows, going flame-blue, and Dipper throws out an arm, like he can reach across the mile or more between them and stop Bill in his tracks. But before Bill can do whatever he’s planning to do, two bolts of crimson lightning arc out from Ford’s trenchcoat, blowing it back in some eldritch wind, and earth themselves in the centre of Bill’s eye.

Bill doesn’t move, for a moment, and Dipper realises he’s holding his breath.

And then red lightning erupts, from between each and every one of Bill’s bricks, forcing them apart. Bill shakes, for a second, like the black pyramid had, his body straining to hold together even as lightning lashes through and between his bricks, pushing them apart. Dipper can see daylight through the cracks in Bill’s form.

And then –

Dipper has to throw up an arm to protect his eyes from the burst of red light as Bill – explodes, like he’s been stuffed full of dynamite and it’s all going off in a string, bricks flying in all directions and shattering into pieces as they fly apart. The roar is deafening.

The Shacktron erupts into cheers, almost drowning out the patter of smoking chunks of yellow triangle raining down around them. Dipper throws an arm up, instinctively, to protect his head, as one lump hisses past inches from the Shacktron’s main window, momentarily blotting out the sun. It’s hard to make out more than a hazy red glow through the clouds of drifting, slightly sparking smoke. And that glow could be the sun, the rift, or whatever power Ford’s summoned up.

“Well, guess we didn’t need to do all that planning after all,” Mabel says brightly, from somewhere to Dipper’s left. “Go, Grunkle Ford!”

To Dipper’s right, Stan crosses his arms over his chest. “See, kid? Told you my nerd brother didn’t need me to rescue him.”

“Um,” Dipper says. He’s pretty sure he’s not just imagining that that hazy red glow is getting brighter. And bigger.

And closer.

...

Cipher falls in pieces.

It's harder to think when you're dead. 

No. Not think. Focus. 

Focus.

Focus on what? 

Clouds of smoke too thick. Impossible to see if Cipher is re-forming. Too easy. This can't be it. After all this time? Can't be this simple.

Movement. On the left. Cipher's Henchmaniacs? Cipher himself? Immolated with a thought. So easy. Too easy.

Lup said something about this. About the power. About something else too. A warning. Not that he needs to be warned about anything anymore. Movement to the right this time becomes a pillar of flame. It’s so easy. 

He should have died years ago. If he’d known it would be like this, he would have. All that time wasted on quantum destabilizers when this power was waiting just under his skin? Foolishness. Selfish foolishness. 

So easy. After all this time. So easy to make Cipher burn.

So easy to make everything burn.

...

“Um, guys?” Dipper quavers, pointing towards the window where the red lightning skeleton guy is hovering. Sure, he’s wearing Grunkle Ford’s trenchcoat, and sure, he just blew up Bill Cipher, so it’s definitely Grunkle Ford, but it’s very important to take a moment and just appreciate this new look he’s rockin’. It’s a big change! He’s probably a little self-conscious about it. He’s gonna need lots of compliments. 

Good thing nobody gives compliments like Mabel!

“Grunkle Ford!” she cheers, running for the window. She ignores Dipper’s yell of “Mabel, wait!”. He can go be a big worrywart somewhere else. Mabel knows her great-uncles when she sees them. “That was so cool!” 

Mabel slaps both hands against the glass, leans her forehead against the window. On the other side of the glass, Grunkle Ford’s head tilts slightly to the left, lightning arcing from his shoulder down to his wrist in a wild, agitated wiggle. He raises his hand, palm towards the glass, and Mabel smacks her own hand against the glass between them in the best high-five she can give a skeleton guy made of lightning. Or should that be a high-six? Or - wait, now there’s another lightning bolt coming from Grunkle Ford’s hand, does that make it a high-seven - 

Stan tackles her around the waist and knocks her away from the window a second before it explodes.

...

Tiny figures scatter.

Mechanical monster lurches, roars. Another blast into its eye. Stumbles. Slow, certain, driving it back. 

Screaming. High and small and distant.

Monsters. All of Cipher’s monsters. All his waking nightmares. All his followers and friends.

Burn them all.

“Mabel, give it up! That’s not Grunkle Ford anymore!”

“For once I agree with your brother. My idiot twin’s lost whatever was left of his mind, we gotta get outta here before he explodes us too!”

“No!” A note to shatter glass. “Grunkle Ford, please! We’re your family! You have to remember!”

“Mabel!” 

“Sweetie, no!”

Tiny figure charges forwards. Arms raised. Skids to a stop at the burst of flame.

“Please! It’s me, it’s Mabel! And Dipper, and Stan - you have to remember your own twin brother -”

Twin...?

some brother you turned out to

“No!”

Tiny figure, darting forward. Two of them, now. Mirrored. Why? What new trick of Cipher’s - 

“Great-Uncle Ford, I know you don’t want to do this! You’re a hero, remember? Not the bad guy!”

because that’s what heroes

“Kids!”

That voice. Scared raw, tiny under metal shrieks and crackling flames, but - 

That voice - 

you stay away from those kids I don’t want

some brother

accident

poindexter

high six?

Ford gives himself a shake, all over. Like he’s waking from a long, long nightmare.

Stanley, crouched in front of the kids, glowers up from the wreckage of the Shack’s main window. Wait. The Shack isn’t - Legs. It has legs?

“You wanna hurt these kids,” Stan growls. Threatening a force of nature with his bare fis- oh. No. With Pa’s old knuckledusters. Well, that makes this so much less idiotic. “You gotta go through me first.”

“I’d...prefer not to,” Ford manages. Has that hiss in his voice always - No. That way madness lies. “I - is anyone hurt?”

“Hurt, no. Traumatized for life, probably,” Dipper says. “Great-Uncle Ford, what the fuck.”

“Dipper!” Mabel gasps.

“Mabel, we’re almost thirteen, you can stop pretending like we don’t know what swear words are! I know you only do it because you think Stan’s swear-substitutes are funny!”

“Wait, what? Have you kids been fucking with me all summer just to hear me say ‘hot Belgian waffles’ every time something went wrong?”

“No, just Mabel,” Dipper says. “For the record, none of this was my idea.”

“We’re gonna talk about this when we’re not standing in a giant robot that’s on fire,” Stan says. Glances up at Ford as he says it. “No thanks to you, Sixer.”

“I can’t actually,” Ford starts. “Um. Put it out.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Stan huffs. But he’s smiling. Kids clinging to him are smiling too. He doesn’t have a face, exactly, anymore, but - Ford knows he himself must be smiling as well. “Can you at least get us down from here?”

“Sorry, he’s not gonna be able to help you with that,” a voice - familiar? - says, just behind him, and then - 

a swish - 

a bright, blooming pain - 

and darkness.

...

“What did you do?!” the besweatered kid yowls, shaking tiny fists in the air. She’s like four feet nothing of pure childish adorableness wrapped in a pink confetti sweater, but Barry catches himself taking an involuntary step backwards anyway.

“Yeah, I kinda had to send your uncle -”

“Great-uncle,” the kid who looks like a fifty-year-old university professor in a twelve-year-old’s tiny, sweaty body says. He sounds as unimpressed as he looks. Same with the girl. It’s not the usual reaction to a literal grim reaper. Barry would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrown a little bit off his game.

“Grunkle!” the girl protests. “He’s our Grunkle Ford and you shouldn’t have done...whatever you did!”

“Sent him to the Eternal Stockade,” Barry says, annoyed. “You don’t just get a free pass for being a lich because your great-niblings are cute - wait, did you say Ford?”

Both the girl and the boy nod.

“Oh,” Barry says.

“Oh,” he says, again, looking around at the yellow sky and the big (but shrinking) glowing oil-slick X slashed across it and the menagerie of nightmares and monsters prowling the pines and the smoking chunks of yellow brick dotting the ground at the feet of the flaming robot.

“Uh oh,” he says, with feeling, looking down at the scythe in his hands. His currently very skeletal hands.

“Yeah, uh, Death, or whatever your name is? Can we take this conversation somewhere where we’re not about to burn alive?” the old guy with the kids asks, looking around him at the burning robot house. “Sure, I wanna be with my brother again, but I’d rather not get it by also dying.”

“Oh yeah. Uh, hang on a second,” Barry says.

“Running out of seconds here,” the old guy points out. “Real fast.”

“Okay, just -” Barry sighs. “Look. You want your great-uncle -”

“Grunkle!”

“Your grunkle back, okay, kid. Look, there are rules, and even if it was for a good cause, he broke them. The Raven Queen’s not gonna be too happy about that.”

“The who what with the what now,” the old guy says, deadpan, crossing his arms over his chest. Barry’s realising he kind of likes him. 

“The goddess of Death, can you try to keep up?”

“Wait, wait, so you’re not Death? There’s a hierarchy of Deaths? How does that work? If she’s a Raven Queen, is Death a monarchy? Is it constitutional, or does she rule by divine right? What -”

“Whoa, kid, slow down!” Barry says, partly because he’s a little scared the kid’s going to pass out if he doesn’t take a breath, partly because he doesn’t actually know the answers to at least half of those questions and he’s got a sinking suspicion they only get harder to answer from here. “Like I said. Raven Queen. Real pissed about liches. But -” he says, as they all start grumbling again, “and this is an important but, turns out she’s got a soft spot for heroes.”

“That’s Great-Uncle Ford!” the boy says, excited, sounding like a kid and not a fortysomething pencil-pusher for the first time. “He beat Bill Cipher and saved our dimension, he’s totally a hero -”

“Yeah. Only problem is, I already dropped him off in the Stockade. And, uh, they call it the Eternal Stockade for a reason.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Barry notices a handful of people wearing colourful parachutes drifting towards the ground from the lower levels of the robot house. Are those...sweaters?

“Well, then, we’ll just have to go and get him!” the girl says, planting her hands on her hips and her feet shoulder-width apart like a tiny, determined Lynda Carter. Barry’s pretty sure the old man grumbles something like ‘oh, not again,’ but he chooses to ignore it.

“That’s the spirit! Now, since I’m kind of the grim reaper, I’m not...technically allowed to help you.” He holds up a hand when the grumbling starts again, gives his scythe a one-handed twirl before cutting a portal through into the Astral Plane. The waters lap quietly against the shore, a beautiful, soothing contrast to the sharp snap and hiss of the flames starting to devour the walls. “I can get you started, but you’re gonna have to get in there and get out with him in tow without me.”

The girl’s already charging through the portal. Barry watches her feet disappear into the Astral Plane, then turns to the other two. 

For the first time, the boy looks uncertain. “I...I don’t know about this. Will we be able to get back? How will we know where to find him?”

“Hey, kid,” Barry says, in what he hopes is a comforting voice. Skin. It would probably be more comforting with skin. He tries it again, with a human face this time. “Look, I knew your great-uncle, so I know what kind of guy he is. I don’t wanna see him stuck in ghost jail for the rest of eternity any more than you do.”

“Really?” the boy asks, looking up at Barry with wide eyes, even as the old man’s eyes narrow.

“You knew Ford.”

“Well, I wasn’t the grim reaper at the time, but yeah. We ran into each other a couple times,” Barry says. He leaves out the part where he is probably personally responsible for Stanford Pines, Lich. That’s a need-to-know. As in, nobody, ever, needs to know. “Your great-uncle’s a big nerd, and that’s coming from me, but he’s got a good heart. He really doesn’t deserve to be treated like a death criminal forever.”

The old man sighs, glaring into the portal. “You’re gonna make me do this stupid thing, too, aren’t you.”

“Grunkle Stan, don’t be such a meanie-pants!” the girl pipes up, sticking her head back out of the portal. “Come on!”

She vanishes again before anyone can say a word.

“I have so many questions,” the boy says, looking up at Barry with an expression that Barry can only describe as ‘hungry’.

“Ask your great-uncle, kid,” Barry says. “When you rescue him.”

The boy bites down on his lower lip, and then looks up with a determined nod. Readjusting the cap on his head, he stalks forward, and into the portal.

The old man gives Barry a sidelong look. “This isn’t some kind of literal death trap, is it?”

Barry shrugs one shoulder. “You’re just gonna have to trust me. Or not.”

The old man - Stan - stares distrustfully at the portal for a long moment, and then sighs, uncrossing his arms and slouching forward in a clear expression of defeat.

“Somebody’s gotta look out for those kids,” he sighs. “And my idiot brother, I guess.” He takes a deep breath, throwing his shoulders back and his chest out. “And it beats burning alive.” 

He stomps forward, through the portal, and Barry can hear a distant, gravelly yell of, “Kids!”

He chuckles, to himself, before digging in the pockets of his flowing black robe for his Stone of Farspeech.

“Hey, babe? Remember that Ford guy we kept running into? ...Yeah, that’s the one. Listen. I need a favour...”

...

Mabel makes it halfway down the beach before a figure entirely draped in ominous black robes rises up before her, blocking her path. The figure hovers in place, its arms outstretched to its sides, skeletal hands peeking from under the edges of its robes. One of them holds an ornate scythe with a pattern of flames along the edge.

“Whoa!” Mabel shouts, skidding to a stop in the pebbly sand. Dipper pours on what little speed he has, running to catch up with her. He’s not sure what he’ll do against the death police, but he’s not letting them take his sister without a fight.

The figure slowly, slowly raises its hands, slowly, slowly peels back its hood to reveal a bare and glinting skull. As Dipper watches, a crimson flame erupts from the dome of the skull, forming a sweeping mane of hair. Red glints in the depths of the empty sockets as the skeletal figure slowly, slowly raises its head, fixing Dipper in place with a hollow, dreadful stare. He can’t move. His legs have frozen under him. His heart rabbits in his chest.

The skull’s lower jaw drops open, and from the depths of its dark robe, a hissing, sinister voice echoes:

“Hey there! Heard you nerds were going on an Orphean underworld quest!”

Dipper and Mabel exchange a startled look. Stan, puffing to a halt behind them, groans. “Oh, what now?”

The skeleton in front of them grins...more somehow. “Name’s Lup, and if I’m gonna be your guide, I literally cannot stress enough how important it is that you not look back.”

[stormpainter]

==>Last Sunday night

Wicked Last Monday at 3:55 AM ((I am claiming this room)) She wasn't waking. Wicked lay Saness down on his couch and chewed on his lip while he tucked a blanket around her- her breathing was fine, and his magic told him there was no immediate Doom awaiting her, so he shouldn't be so worried. But he was.

Saness Last Monday at 4:29 AM Saness remains limp in what appears to be a perfectly peaceful slumber, face lacking all the tension her waking form had carried. The rise and fall of her chest remains steady and even too, no outward sign to show of Wicked's tampering. It's very likely that she'll stay this way for some time, relaxed and unconscious on her clade's couch.

Wicked, however, is in for another 'greeting' surge of twisting fate. This time it seems that the outcome presented by his opponent will come to pass if he stays put in his own home. It hasn't been very long since that initial push and the intent feels very much the same; if Wicked won't go looking for him, then he's going to come find Wicked.

Wicked Last Monday at 4:34 AM Wicked looked up from Saness, frowning at the feeling of the other god of doom, playing with his fate, he pushed back again, though he knew the other would simply persist, Wicked tried to tell fate that they would not meet tonight, but they both knew fate well. He hesitated, looking again at Saness and began to walk, taking himself up the winding staircase and out into the top of the light hive, and from there to the roof of it.

If someone must come, they will not be near her now.

This was a dangerous place for even another god to approach him, it was his own home, and he would protect it, foolishly or not.

Saness Last Monday at 4:56 AM It's very likely that Wicked is able to sense the rapid approach of the other doom god, who, upon realizing that Wicked had relented, set a swift course for Wicked's location. His presence will build like pressure coming to a head, the force of something unnatural that would potentially unnerve those unfamiliar, a tainted, eldritch shadow. He is not only of doom, but of the slithering black tentacles that line the Furthest Ring as well.

If Wicked stays put, he'll be able to see the troll in question when he arrives some short way off in an inky green light, and the overbearing pallor of his presence, of that altered fate, will slither back into repressed tension, no longer reaching out to locate Wicked.

Saness sleeps on peacefully while the becloaked invader descends unto the roof of the lighthive without a sound, outlined in the flickering bleak of grimdarkness and otherwise shrouded from sight. He makes no other move to approach, simply standing on the rooftop with Wicked, somewhere around two feet shorter than the massive nine-foot purpleblood.

Wicked Last Monday at 5:02 AM "I thought you'd be taller." Grimdark, that was interesting. There were parts of Wicked that yerned for the touch of the eldritch on his mind an heart again, for the direction and fiercity of force, for the highs and lows and everything that came with them.

{Should I address you like this} He asked casually in the language that drove some trolls to madness, the tongue of the horror terrors was one that had been whispered to him since before he was old enough to understand it.

It wasn't a wonder that his pan was a bit cracked, but at least it couldnt shatter further than it already had. Probably.

He hated the feeling of heaviness, of someone else stirring the fate of this sleepy world that had never known the game by moving through it.

Saness Last Monday at 5:13 AM It certainly looks and feels like grimdarkness, the insidious and creeping aura of the elders, but when the other troll speaks, it is entirely in a soft rasp of the common tongue, voice low.

"Since you ask, I prefer it this way."

It sounds like he hasn't spoken in some time, perhaps. It is rough, uneven. The hood of the unfamiliar troll tips and shifts in what appears to be a slow scan of the rooftop, though what he is looking at specifically cannot be easily discerned. That is, until he finally looks directly at Wicked, the rich rust of burgundy illuminated in the dark of his hood, eyes meeting eyes in the cool of night.

"She's here, isn't she? Why have you broken her so?"

Wicked Last Monday at 5:17 AM Wicked's eyes glowed in the darkness, they always glowed, though they didnt have to, he could make them go as pitch dark as the night itself if he wanted. He studied the burgondy eyes thoughtfully.

"I aint gonna pretend I don't know who you're talkin about but shes hardly fuckin broken. "

Saness Last Monday at 5:25 AM "You play a dangerous game and gamble much, sweeps and sweeps  of effort, of planning-"

The other troll breaks off in a quiet wheeze, the following cough the loudest sound yet produced by the hooded rustblood. His posture is straight and rigid, distant and confident and firm in stark contrast to the way speaking seems to be such a laborious chore. The hood tips slightly following that raspy pause, the set of his eyes now at an angle suggesting he had tilted his head.

"What for?"

Wicked Last Monday at 5:28 AM "Shes had too much taken from her." He told him bluntly.  "My powers say the path I started won't lead to doom, and open up many paths of fate for her.  Shes lost even more than I have, she barely even knows herself." Saness Last Monday at 5:36 AM The repressed tension in the background slithers in agitation, the intruder's tone shifting to something distressed, something aggressive.

"It was for the best."

Wicked Last Monday at 5:38 AM Wickeds wings appeared, flicking behind him in the moonlight. An unconscious response to the power. He was a god too.

"Yeah? How the fuck did you decide that?" Saness Last Monday at 5:42 AM The stranger doesn't back down, doesn't move from his place nor adjust the harshness of his foreign rasping. His hood is no longer tilted, the beady glow of his glare fixed on Wicked.

"It was to protect her. You haven't given her anything, you've taken it all away with this careless venture, can't you see?"

Wicked Last Monday at 5:44 AM "Taken what away? Check the feel of fate here yourself, theres no doom on the horizon, nothin horrible comin from her powers, only possibility" He shook his head. "You think I woulda messed with it if they was dangerous to her?"

Saness Last Monday at 5:52 AM There's something manic in the way the intruder looks at Wicked, something not quite right, insistence and vision.

"She was so unhappy before, just like the others. You think you know that girl? Know her heart so well, know what she wants and needs, think those possibilities are worth more than her happiness? Her safety?"

Air rattles in his lungs as he draws a rough breath, hood on one side of his face shifting eerily. The aggressive tone is drifting away, the agitated aura going sluggish once more.

"What is it you want."

Wicked Last Monday at 5:55 AM "I know her pretty damned well, yeah. Had her up in my head for a time, part of her is still there. I want her to be happy, to know herself, to fuckin..I want to teach her to make little fairy lights." he drew his magic up holding it out as a little ball of light, then closing his hand around it.  "- to share magic with her, shes so bright, and so curious about the magic, she wants to learn, and its all up inside her where she can use it, if some motherfuckers didnt get in there tamperin with who she is."

Saness Last Monday at 6:12 AM "The only meddler here is you. You seek to change her, don't you? To twist knots all throughout. She has been herself. I made sure of it, unlike the rest."

He scraggles out another cough, lifting a hand to point in Wicked's direction. It doesn't quite seem like this troll is listening, not entirely.

"You do not seem to understand, but that is alright. I do not begrudge you this mistake. You seem considerate, reasonable. You want what I want, you're just-" he wheezes, "-confused."

Wicked Last Monday at 6:16 AM "I don't wanna fuckin change her. I want her to be her best brightest self, to know herself even, you've taken parts of her away, alls I did was give it back. The fate I chose is one where everythin ends up alright, thats why I chose it." A squint

"...are you like. fuckin alright over there?"

Saness Last Monday at 6:26 AM He shakes his head, though it is not in answer to Wicked's direct question pertaining to his health. The rasp is just as low, just as wet and uneven, but something about the presentation now holds a hollow wealth of bleak emotion. His arm hangs back at his side.

"I remember... thinking the same... thing, back then. That is what I wanted, for all of us." He's distracted, perhaps, attention shifting back to the building they stood upon.

Wicked Last Monday at 6:30 AM "If you want that, let me shoot for it.  I won't let nothin happen to her, shes clade to me, She aint gonna be goin through nothin alone or without any know how. I don't wanna fight you." He held his hands out, fingers spread, showing his lack of weapons metaphorically and literally. Saness Last Monday at 6:35 AM The unreadable black of the stranger's hood returns to Wicked's hand, and then to his face.

"What is your name?"

Wicked Last Monday at 6:37 AM "I don't give my name to motherfuckers dealin with the horror terrors. You can call me Wicked."  He watched the other god thoughtfully.

Saness Last Monday at 7:03 AM "I don't deal- with horrorterrors."

It's venomous, the way he spits the words, but it dials back to the slow inkiness of before as quickly as the surge of bitter fury had risen.

"Wicked. Would you take me to see her?"

Wicked Last Monday at 7:04 AM "..Why so you can fuck her up again?" He crossed his arms.

Saness Last Monday at 7:07 AM "...I haven't seen her in a very long time, Wicked..." Wicked Last Monday at 7:08 AM "Shes restin, you don't need to see her, I don't want you hurtin her." He was deeply suspicious of this god, and his wings buzzed angrily behind him.

Saness Last Monday at 7:14 AM "I've known Psuede a lot longer than you have, I want- to make sure she is as well as you say- she is. I know why you hesitate. You and I, we are strangers, but it is not so- between she and I. Take me to see her, Wicked."

The troll before Wicked sounds deeply tired, the side of his hood fluttering strangely once more.

"I would not bring her to harm."

Wicked Last Monday at 7:18 AM "I don't trust you even a little bit, and this is my hive, you caint just fuckin show up and ask to be taken to see the person you fucked up in another motherfuckers hive." He frowned at the little weirdo.

Saness Last Monday at 7:24 AM Not that Wicked could see, but inside the hood the raspy stranger is now frowning. He doesn't seem willing to leave.

"...You wanted me to fight the host? Her host."

Wicked Last Monday at 7:26 AM "I can see that if you do she'll come to little or no harm" He shrugged. "It seemed like th' fuckin thing to do, I didn't realize you would catch me nudging that thread forward."

Saness Last Monday at 7:29 AM He doesn't deign to clarify the nature of his noticing, how he had nothing but time to devote to flitters of fate, how his own fate had remained unchanged for the longest time.

"You would send me to my death."

Wicked Last Monday at 7:32 AM "That aint true. We've fought horror terrors before, me and my session mates.  They aren't infalliable things without limits or weaknesses. You feel Strong, if you were Fated to lose the horror terror would turn on us next and that wasn't gonna happen." He shook his head.

Saness Last Monday at 7:38 AM The clown is smarter than he looks, plenty in-tune with his aspect. The rustblood exhales, whispers and darkness in the air between them.

"What will you tell Psuede?"

Wicked Last Monday at 7:42 AM If there was anything that was ever truer about Wicked it was that he was in tune with his aspect, a little bit too much so, he could coast on just doing what felt right without participating in the decision making process if he wanted, and he used to.

"Is there somethin you want her to know?"

Saness Last Monday at 7:44 AM "Less," he answers simply.

Wicked Last Monday at 7:45 AM "So don't tell her you was here?" He tilted his head.

Saness Last Monday at 7:54 AM "I suppose not."

That makes very little difference to the stranger who had not given his name away, who remained shrouded from sight within the concealment of his cloak. What would Wicked say that Saness could hope to understand? A strange god had come around to ask about her? Tch.

"Since you will not let me- see her, and I did not come here in search of violence, you leave me- no choice, save to take action against the host, or to abandon her to your reckless design. I am not appreciative, of these circumstances, Wicked."

Wicked Last Monday at 7:58 AM "If I gotta fight a horror terror for her I'll fuckin do it. I won't be as good at it as you probably but I'll play dirty pool with it and it wont get her no matter what the fuck ends up happenin to me. She won't be happy with me if I get hurted, but sometimes thats the way shit is." He shrugged.

Saness Last Monday at 7:34 PM The stranger remains still and silent for a time, not even the hiss of his labored breathing to be heard as those burgundy eyes bore upward into the steady luminous purple of Wicked's. He doesn't blink, doesn't shift an inch, but there is the sense of something unfurling around them both, a rancid grip settling around the lighthive itself.

"We could team up."

It sounds perhaps innocuous, an offer to help Wicked defeat the horrorterror, but the statement is doubled as a coin: a threat that he could team up with the 'terror if he doesn't get his way. He says it so plainly, an offer, but the insidious grasp and the coiling pressure makes clearer the dual nature, in-tune as Wicked is.

Wicked Last Monday at 7:43 PM He pushed back against the power he felt, this was His. Bards were not a class without power behind them.

"You could." His voice was carrying in the night air , but still soft, quiet. He was unafraid, it was possible he just didn't feel fear the way he should. Horror terrors can really mess up  how you respond to things.

"Will you? You seem t' want to help her. You seemed t be real insistant that you dont deal with terrors."

Saness Last Monday at 9:02 PM The pressure does not abate against Wicked's powerful retort, merely shifting around him like the vice of the sea. There is no current danger, only sickening potential leaking through the cracks, leeching into the land in lazy waves. The stranger does finally blink from within his hood; or at least, the burn of his eyes wink out for a moment, leaving only shadow before the two glowing embers rekindle themselves.

"...Assist me, in slaying Them."

It's the same choice, but this time the lick of dread is notably skewed; the rustblood will relent to a compromise as he offered before, but his preference is clearer now. He harbors no ill-intent toward Saness, he was just. Angry. At Wicked.

Wicked Last Monday at 9:05 PM Wicked was still a moment, He tried to ignore the press and shift of the other's power and intent, and tried to grasp at the threads around him. Weighing the possibility of his own doom, considering how likely that was.

Saness Last Monday at 11:09 PM The encounter with this troll, the other god of doom, has changed the flow of fate surrounding Wicked. New paths have opened ahead following his decision to delve into the potential of disabling those locks, two trolls tampering with the outline of the universe locked in opposition to one another, a dangerous mass out in the void that hungers and shifts as well.

As Wicked reaches out to get a more conscious understanding of his options, he might very well notice how the other troll slinks back, how he makes to alleviate the force of his presence so that Wicked can work more clearly. It has the weight of observation, surely, but the other god would see to it that Wicked has access to the full scope of his options without interference. Doom gods tend to look for the most favorable path, and he is confident in the force of his will that the 'best path' for Wicked will be of benefit to him as well. .

Ahead of Wicked, should he choose to go into combat with the stranger against the horrorterror that owned Saness, there is great and overbearing doom in store for Wicked specifically. The god before him plots his demise, and he does so openly. It is a pact of mutually-assured destruction, the endeavor of any promise of an Alternian highblood working with another of their kind. The odds of coming out unscathed from such a venture are incredibly miniscule, as Wicked would be working to combat a horrorterror directly as well as evade the traps of the lord of doom, his "ally," but there is a chance he could do so.

There is the option of relinquishing Saness to the stranger, which is the path of least doom for Wicked. Wicked would carry on unscathed, Saness would go stagnant and also technically unscathed; the subject of the horrorterror's influence, however, has a great many branching alternatives in this route, some far far down the line and some much closer, varying from No Trouble (a surprising Many of the branches are relatively free of trouble), to immediate 'seeking out the source of the disturbance' type troubles, dependent on if Wicked asks the other god for aid after giving up the lime or how else he handles it.

He could make a case for joining forces sincerely against the 'terror and make an effort to dissuade the god before him from sabotaging Wicked; if Wicked can convince the stranger of his good will, convince him that Wicked will cooperate similarly without intending the downfall of the stranger, then the odds of Wicked going into combat and coming out alive at the end jump up from 'miniscule' to 'still low but wow what a difference real teamwork can make!' Saness Last Monday at 11:50 PM .

Taking the stranger to Saness has the potential to end in a fight over the right to her person if Wicked isn't willing to relent or compromise on reestablishing the locks, and that route carries a moderate amount of bad idea vibes.

Should Wicked opt for diplomacy with apologies and sycophantic flattery, it could ease his transition into other favorable routes, but in and of itself the action does not seem to change much in this encounter.

Telling the stranger to fuck off almost one-hundred percent results in some form of doom or another, but it ranges from sudden danger to delayed danger, both in rather great proportions.

Perhaps surprisingly, outright attacking the stranger is not immediately damning. If Wicked tries to force the fight to an impromptu life-or-death encounter then obviously that changes things, but assault? Not Immediately Damning. There's even a chance of something good coming from it. Telling the guy to fuck off is disproportionately worse.

Wicked Last Monday at 11:55 PM "You're boxing me in." His voice was soft. "You're tryin to force me to relent her for your own designs or suffer death at your hands under the guise of askingfor my help." His eyes burned brighter and his fingers curled into a fist. A breath, two breaths, and the air boiled in the sky, clouds formed and rolled out blocking the light, while lightening flickered between them.  It started drizzling softly, and his fingers relaxed, calm.

"..I shouldn't ought to have tried to force you down the path of fate I chose, insteada talkin to you." "I didn't know what you were when I tried, only that you were strong enough to face it."

Saness Last Tuesday at 12:10 AM He blinks again, the opening of his hood tipping skyward as the presence descends back around them in formless pressure. It seems to be his default, his relaxed state is smothering. A flash of crafted lightning might illuminate the inside of his hood, if only for a moment, and what is seen within is... not entirely a face, something writhing on one side. His attention swivels back to Wicked, darkness and red light once more.

"...Perhaps so."

The stranger seems to be waiting for Wicked to continue, as such assertions are not an answer to the balance set forth.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 12:16 AM "I don't want you to die any more than anyone else, I weren't tryin to send you to your death. " He raked his hair back from his face as it started slowly sticking to his skin. "- I can't help if I can't trust you, brother."

Saness Last Tuesday at 12:21 AM Another blink - he's really racking up a tally there, we're up to three distinct blinks - and he draws the least certain breath his rattling chest can manage.

"Trust?" he rasps.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 12:24 AM "Shits a lot easier to accomplish if no ones tryina kill their partners."

Saness Last Tuesday at 12:28 AM The seething pressure flutters around them both.

"You want- to trust me? You want me-" he coughs this time, not simply wheezing, and it physically wracks his body so much so that his shoulders hunch forward, "-to trust you?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 12:29 AM "..brother are you okay, do you need somethin to drink?"

Saness Last Tuesday at 12:36 AM "..."

He spends a few moments wheezing into the rain between them, the lengths of his cloak slowly beginning to hang low with saturation.

"Why?"

That 'why' is several different 'whys' wrapped into one singular utterance.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 1:58 AM "..So we both live? Also cause you sound like you aint doin too well and sometimes drinkin something helps." He rubbed at the back of his neck "-Besides, even if I was all fuckin pissed and shit, Saness'd never forgive my ass for killin you or gettin killed. I aint but thats a thing."

Saness Last Tuesday at 2:05 AM His power shifts through the air again, examining the threads of fate, pressing out and around at possibility. He shifts physically, taking a step closer to Wicked.

"...You are odd."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 2:09 AM "Yeah I've heard that before." His ears twitched a bit, perked curiously  at the feel of power that wasnt his around him. He wasn't planning to betray this troll and that should be readily apparent in the search of fate.

Saness Last Tuesday at 2:20 AM "Hm."

He doesn't seem entirely satisfied, but... the power he was letting out to scope destiny comes to a stop.

"You would fight Them, with me, for her."

He seems very genuinely confused by this notion, and the reason becomes clear rather swiftly.

"She was in," - wheeze - "no danger, before. In my care." Wicked Last Tuesday at 2:28 AM "I'm not afraid of horror terrors, not like I ought to be. They're big and some of them are nasty, but I've seen them die. Shes fuckin unhappy as shit with parts of her missin and other bits locked away."

Saness Last Tuesday at 2:37 AM He remains silent at that, nothing more than rasping air and the patter of raindrops on his cloak.

"...together, then?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 2:39 AM He hesitating, feeling out the veracity of this path carefully, water sparkling on his wings as the lightening flashes above them. If he finds his doom has become significantly less assured then.. "Together."

Saness Last Tuesday at 2:47 AM A significant drop indeed without the other god gunning for Wicked's demise. It's still heavy, horrorterrors are no small threat, but... doom is less assured by far. The hooded stranger nods, his twisting aura slow and unpleasant.

"Then, ready yourself. I will- be in- touch..."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 2:50 AM "Waitin to hear from you then." He nodded at the  strange twisted god who had accosted his attention.

Saness Last Tuesday at 2:53 AM He nods, and another pause follows.

"...I still wish to see her."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 2:55 AM "Maybe after all this shit is over and theres no reason for you to fuck with her anymore."

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:04 AM He offers no further response, instead studying Wicked only a moment longer before rising off the roof to take his leave. Once he achieves some distance, the stranger vanishes in a nauseating swirl of doom-green and horror-black. The sickening pressure leaves with him, suction and then nothing, raindrops and the sense of a sigh.

Inside the lighthive on Wicked's couch, Saness's miserable and fretful rest, tainted by that wretched presence, begins to ease back to the peace of before.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:05 AM Wicked needed a fucking shower, first he'll check on Saness then he'll wash up.

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:11 AM She'll still be asleep when he enters, though by the pallor of her skin she looks like she's been sweating, and the blanket he'd used to tuck her in is disheveled like she's been tossing and turning. Now she is still, steady breathing and expression lacking tension. He can take his shower.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:16 AM He fushes gently, fixing the blanket, brushing her hair back from her face, worrying. .. Hes very glad he didn't let that guy anywhere near her. Time for that shower then he'll be back in here to sit with her till she wakes.

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:26 AM When she does wake, it is with the soft fluttering of silvery lashes and sleepy sounds as she comes to awareness. Saness rolls onto her side and rubs at her eye, looking around the room until her gaze settles on wherever Wicked decided to settle.

"Wicked? Hey..."

Pleased and then sheepish, she gives her clade a little smile.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:28 AM "Hey sis, you conked out when I got those locks outcha." Time to scoot over there and muss her hair a little.

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:32 AM She can't help but giggle just a little when Wicked ruffles her hair, raising a hand to shove at his fingers. It's a bit of a contrast to his words though, and she moves to sit up.

"Sorry about that, I bet I worried you. I feel fine now, though!"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:35 AM "Yeah but I knew you'd be okay" He sat on the edge of the couch beside her. "how're you feelin?"

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:39 AM "Um..." Saness looks down her arms and to her hands, backs and palms both, before folding them in her lap and peeking back up at Wicked. "I'm fine. The same. I feel pretty normal."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:41 AM "Good" He kissed her head. "Somethin happened while you were out, the motherfucker who did that to you was real upset with me for undoin it"

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:44 AM "What?" Confusion and distress begin a turf war across Saness's features rather immediately. That's one way to finish waking up! "Are you okay??"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:47 AM "Hey hey shh I'm alright." He patted at her shoulder and chewed his lip. "..we had a long tlak about it where I refused to let him see you"

Saness Last Tuesday at 3:51 AM She's going to have to reach over and put a hand on Wicked. It's basically a requirement, like Saness needs to touch him to make sure he's actually alright. She does quiet down though, but only because he asked it of her. "What happened? Is he gone now?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 3:52 AM "Yeah hes gone now, but he'll be back, he wants me to fight that horror terror that messed you up with him." look away from her and fiddle with his fingers.

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:02 AM Saness remains very clearly uneasy following the spike of anxiety generated by his words, brow pinched tight as she watches Wicked. His fiddling is giving her a bad feeling, it makes her want to know what he's thinking, and it takes her a moment to keep her breath rate from spiking with her pulse. Chill out... "And... you said no?" She can hope, and she can dread.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:03 AM "..its gonna be a hard fight, but its doable. N also Tarrat didn't stop me or nothin so.."

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:07 AM She's going to compulsively grab hold of him now. So much for quieting down! "Wicked-!" It's plaintive and upset.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:08 AM Oop yeah he was afraid of that. He hugged her. "I'm gonna be okay, I got all sorts of tricks and a time player who can talk to me directly no matter where I am." "..Besides Vel's always sayin if theres a horror terror ass needs kickin hes in so maybe.."

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:12 AM Okay, it's hug time apparently. Good luck shaking the little lime now that she's wrapped around your middle, Wicked. She's going to crane her little head up so she can keep fixing him with those intently focused eyes, too. "Don't."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:14 AM "Listen I gotta, the other motherfucker's stronger than me, an hes got some fuckin.. somethin all wrong with him, hes grimdark and his magics all twisted up and I barely convinced him to work with me insteada tryina kill me" This was okay they could hug.

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:18 AM "He was going to kill you??" Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:19 AM "I made him mad not lettin him get at you" "..n kinda tryin to alter his fate to get him to fight the terror by hisself.."

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:23 AM Hey! Wow! That makes Saness feel all of Zero Percent better! She can't think of anything to work against 'getting a complete stranger to go off and fight a horrible space loogie' and she honestly doesn't want to think about what that implies at all. "Couldn't we have just... put it back? Would that have worked?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:27 AM He brushed his fingers at her hair. "it didn't feel like the right path, you're all fuck.. vibrant with possibilities now, and it all goes away if its closed off again."

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:31 AM Saness looks completely miserable, because she is. "I don't want you to fight that eldritch abomination. I told you that, Wicked..."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:34 AM "I know you don't" he squeezed her. "I'm sorry"

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:39 AM It's hard not to feel a little bit betrayed by that 'sorry,' but that's not right because it's her fault for making the wrong decision in the first place, and she knew she wasn't any good at making decisions, and she should have asked for a second opinion, and ohp, she's tearing up. "Can't we do something else...?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:42 AM He kissed her head. "I already told him I would, Saness. .. besides I dont..want you to fuckin.. just go on havin bits of you stripped away from yourself, that aint fuckin right."

Saness Last Tuesday at 4:51 AM Her eyes are wet and her teeth are grit, a swallow thick in her throat. She's still hugging on tight to Wicked, but her eyebrows take on an angrier stance. Squish! "You know I have to like... try to stop you, right? That's what I said..." She doesn't sound like she wants to fight Wicked.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 4:53 AM He stroked her hair, his hands were gentle and cold, and her empathy could tell her hes worried about her, but not  for himself, hes anxious about upsetting her, but not about the fight coming. "You gonna beat me up good?"

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:00 AM After a moment of chewing her lip and 'glaring' at Wicked, Saness nods. "I'm going to have to beat you up."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:02 AM "Shit I guess its time to get my ass kicked." he was still hugging.

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:03 AM "And when I win you won't be able to run off and get yourself killed." She hasn't stopped hugging him either, even if her expression is wibbly and grim.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:05 AM "I'm not gonna die, I promise I wont let no big ass ugly squid kill me." He squeezed her again.

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:09 AM They're just clinging to each other. Or, Saness is clinging. If she holds onto him until it's too late then he can't go right? Right. "When is it? That you're supposed to meet with this... person..."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:10 AM "He'll come callin." pet pet her hair.

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:14 AM "How did he find you and not me?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:14 AM "I went up to the roof when I felt him comin to see whos powers had been fuckin with his shit."

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:16 AM "How d'you think he'll find you next time? Is he just gonna come here?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:21 AM He shrugged and shook his head. "- he'll set his fate so it is to meet me, and follow it there."

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:23 AM Fishy. Fishy fishy fishy. Saness is going to hide her face against Wicked, partly because she feels heavy, and partly to hide any sign of what she's thinking. "...I don't see what was wrong with me before... Or, I mean, I don't see... It's not worth it, and that hasn't really changed..."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:28 AM "Its changed." He brushed his hand through her hair and patted her on the back. "I can fuckin feel it, your fate is changed, and theres so many motherfuckin possibilities now where there weren't before. Its fuckin worth it. Especially if I can get yo' memories back from that fucker when we fight. Dont tell me your memories aren't worth it cause they are."

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:41 AM She can't agree, but she can't argue with him either. Saness starts to lose her nerve, the tension in her eyebrows that was trying to stay in a mad scowl instead sink into an expression of sadness and guilt. Nobody should be at risk for or because of her. Wicked is... gentle. Is that a weird descriptor? She doesn't think so, despite knowing as much about him as she does. Her little arms withdraw from the hug just enough for her to lean back and look at him again. "How can you promise... you won't die, Wicked?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:44 AM He uncurled an arm to brush her hair out of her face. "I'm a god of fate, and battle is my strongest skill, when I fight I'm one with my powers an nothin can fuckin touch me." Except it has before hasn't it, his body was scarred with near death experiances.

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:49 AM Except it has before indeed, and Saness's gaze says everything that her voice doesn't as her palm plaps down rather pointedly against the marring on his stomach. She holds her stare on his glowing purple eyes rather stubbornly, wordlessly asking 'uhh, come again?' and daring him to feed her that line twice.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:51 AM "..I wasn't a god, then. Saness. I wasn't even a fuckin adult, and all I knew was what the horror terrors wanted, and I did what they told me to do." He let out a breath slowly.  "..n they knew if I was up against a wall and dyin I'd trigger that game even with reasonable fuckin hesitation about it."

Saness Last Tuesday at 5:53 AM She tries to keep the stubbornness in place, but it softens in the background. She can't help it. "...that's not the only mark on you," she says very softly.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 5:58 AM He lifted his hand and touched his chest where the other larger scar was. "- This is from how I godtiered, I had lost the voices of m- the terrors, and I didnt yet trust my powers, an they werent real developed on their own yet.  The others stuffs just acceptable damage  taken toward my goal- cause every good path doesnt always mean its painless, an every path to life doesnt mean theres no injury."

Saness Last Tuesday at 6:06 AM Saness remains visibly unhappy. The little weenie isn't sure that any damage is an acceptable amount when it comes to the people she loves, when it's because of her greediness or carelessness. It's not like she couldn't make new memories, or couldn't make possibilities on her own. Her gaze drops to his middle, but she's only half looking at her hand on his scars, tiny uncertain shifts of not-tracing. "I wonder... which one of us is the one that doesn't get it..."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 6:12 AM "..c'n you trust me? To know whats worth it to me? to do shit I think is right? ..to help make you whole and happy in yo'self? Cause thats what I want." He pet her hair gently.

Saness Last Tuesday at 6:26 AM Saness groans and her hand drops down from his stomach to her leg with a limp little thwap. When she looks up at Wicked, her features are shaped on the sulky side. "C'mon Wicked, that's cheating."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 6:31 AM "It aint cheatin" he squeezed her. "I've been a whole assed adult for a few sweeps now I know what I'm about."

Saness Last Tuesday at 6:40 AM Hf. Saness is just about done with arguing, at this point. What else can she possibly say? Rather than pressing the matter until Wicked gets upset too, she's just going to sit close and hold onto him more softly than before, possessed by melancholy. "You're really important to me, An-" whoops no, wrong name, not allowed, "-and I hope I'm just overreacting." Sweet save, gnarly bro. "...will you tell me, when he comes to get you?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 6:43 AM "..You can call me Antony if y' want, no one does, except when I'm in trouble. You aren't over reactin, what I'm doin is super motherfuckin dangerous, an bein worried about it aint wrong." He hesitated "..yeah I aint gonna leave you hangin not knowin if I'm gone off to get in trouble or not"

Saness Last Tuesday at 6:48 AM How the FUCK did he catch her, she was sure that was smooth! Damn, now Saness is fidgety and uncomfortable. That's not so important as the rest though, and it's easier to quash than it might normally be, what with all the hellish space loogie bullshit going on. Just gonna... clear her throat and move on, maybe look at her knees when the hug ends. "...thank you."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 6:51 AM He kissed her head. "You aint gonna get rid of me super easy so fuckin jot that down."

Saness Last Tuesday at 6:56 AM She tips her face up enough to crack an eye at him, not quite smiling, but just a few hesitant inches closer to it. He's given her a lot of kisses and she is Not tall. "I'll hold you to that... Antony. I'm sorry things, uh. Dipped this way."

Wicked Last Tuesday at 7:00 AM Its a good thing clowns learn to contort themselves, and thats the gods' truth. "Yeah well, shit happens, we'll get it all fuckin sorted out."

Saness Last Tuesday at 7:07 AM "Yeah..." She's got plenty of thoughts to dwell on, but Saness is quickly running out of things to say and words to say them with.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 7:08 AM He was not exactly great at carrying on conversations by himself, so he was running out of things to say- instead he poked at her gently. "You hungry?"

Saness Last Tuesday at 7:12 AM "Uh-" Saness perks up at that gentle poke, the little 'o' on her face smoothing into a bit better of a smile as she nods. Classic Wicked. "Wanna cook with me?"

Wicked Last Tuesday at 7:13 AM "Yeah lets make somethin'" He smiled at her, that was better.

Saness Last Tuesday at 7:20 AM Together they can both abandon The Couch of Heavy Feelings and try their hand at lighter chefly endeavors until such a time as peace can descend once more, fleeting though it may be. Saness will lighten up as they go on, at least a bit. Still Stressed™ but no longer on the verge of tears.

Wicked Last Tuesday at 7:22 AM Good, the magic of food has done its job. Thus they spent the rest of their evening.

[sunflowerstrays]

nothing makes me happier // kim minseok // au

kim minseok x reader.

words: 1.8k.

genre: fluff.

---

“Minseok, please pack it in now,” your voice is sharper than intended, and Minseok sticks out his bottom lip, sitting quietly in a chair at your dinner table and waiting patiently for his next instruction. Whilst he is the best cook you’ve ever met and had the pleasure of dating, he really has trouble letting anyone else be in charge in the kitchen; and when it’s cooking for your parents and introducing them to your boyfriend, you need everything to be perfect.

“Sorry my love,” Minseok says, “I just want to help. I hate seeing you this stressed; they are your parents.”

“My parents were the sort of parents that when other kids were out on their bikes and climbing trees when I was a child, I was stuck indoors studying. My university statement had been written before I’d even finished my second year of high school. If it isn’t perfect, I won’t be allowed back into Thailand, Min.”

“Then you can spend more time with me?” He says hopeful, his eyes bigger than his heart. You want to run over and squeeze him, but instead give him a look that says, Really?, and carry on with cooking the meal. He finally gives up sitting and comes over to help finish polishing the cutlery you had to buy specifically for the occasion, because your mother did not appreciate that you are a full time university student in a country where you can barely speak the language fluently and have a boyfriend who works in a small coffee shop, that being your only income between the two of you currently.

The thought of your parents coming over suddenly makes your blood boil as you snap the lettuce in your hands and dump it in the pan. Tears fill your eyes at the stress you feel, this is completely unfair on you, and Minseok as a result.

“Hey, baby,” Minseok says, taking your wrists and pulling you away from the stove. He turns down the heat before hugging you, being careful not to smudge your makeup and willing you not to cry, “take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

“What if they hate it?” You ask, rubbing your temples as Minseok brushes a hand against your forehead, moving the stray curls aside. “The life I’ve got here?”

“Does it matter?” Minseok asks, “sure, we don’t have a lot together. I’m on the basic pay and you are always at school. Our apartment is one of the smallest in the city and all our friends are in the same position as us, but we’ve got each other, y/n. We’ve made our home here, and we have learned to survive together. Isn’t that what matters?”

You rest your head on his chest, feeling the soft material of his navy jumper beneath your fingers and breathing in his scent. All the things you love about him, that help calm you. There is nothing more in the world that you would prefer right now than to crawl into bed with Minseok, put on a film and curl up into his side. He'd lull you to sleep by stroking your hair, and you would be happy. Not so stressed you are at the point of tears, like you are now.

“Here, I can finish this. I've seen you cook it enough times to know how to do it,” he says, placing a kiss between your eyebrows then on the end of your nose. Taking a small, sharp breath, Minseok picks up the lettuce and begins to snap it in the way you've shown him a thousand times in your tiny kitchen.

As he works, you move ahead with polishing expensive, useless cutlery, cleaning the already sparkling glasses and watering the flooded flowers. The horror of one of them losing a leaf whilst your mother, a previous botanist, is sat at this table is too great for you to imagine.

The two of you work in silence, Minseok finally remembering to stop singing whilst he works. Whilst he works in his little coffee shop, which is a place he loves to go to each morning, singing has always been his passion. He has the most beautiful voice you've ever heard, but in the two years that you've been together, the only time you've ever successfully heard his voice is catching it in the shower or when you were really stressed for school. He has a fear of singing out loud, apparently, but doesn't realise how good is voice truly is.

Your hands are still shaking as you make the final changes to your apartment, and eventually Minseok turns off the cooker and takes you in his arms again, squeezing all of the sadness and anger out of you.

When the doorbell finally rings, you walk to the door and take a huge deep breath. Minseok stays in the kitchen, cooking like you'd rehearsed, as you open the door, smiling at your parents.

“It's a bit small,” is the first thing your father says, and you nearly punch him there.

“But full of love. Hello Father, mother,” you say, offering the manners of your culture in your native tongue, knowing that Minseok will be wildly confused in the kitchen. “Please come through with me.”

---

“I hate them and their… everything,” you say, only earning a confused look from Minseok.

“You did the half Thai half Korean thing again, baby,” he says with a laugh, kissing the top of your head as you sit beside each other on your tiny shared bed. You chuckle softly as you spread your hands over the fresh, soft sheets before twisting and facing him. It's dark in the room now, and you can only make out one side of his face from the moonlight, but you know he's there and that makes you feel infinitely better.

“It has been a draining evening, babe, give me a break,” you say lightly, Minseok chuckling in response as he stands up and takes off his jumper. Even though you've been dating for such a long time and you've seen him like this a thousand times, still seeing his muscular back, gentle shoulders and slim waist overwhelms you, and you wish that you could paint him into the stars, loving him more than life itself.

“I think it's cute,” he says as he changes into jogging bottoms and a plain white shirt. You take another one of his shirts and step into the tiny bathroom, washing your face free of the makeup and combing the curls out of your hair before swapping your fancier clothes for the clothes you are most comfortable in; his.

When you walk back into the bedroom, Minseok is already laying under the covers, flicking through the channels looking for something to enjoy. You dump the clothes in the wash basket before curling up beside him, reaching for your reading glasses and current reading book, something on science in Korean that you have to keep asking Minseok about translations because your Korean still isn't the best.

He settles for a television show on cooking in Europe whilst you carry on reading, using your phone so not to bother him. Minseok chats happily about trying out some of these foods soon, laughing when you scrunch your nose up at the thought of snails and raw red meats. The concept to you is baffling.

No conversation is truly exchanged between the two of you. Minseok knows you better than you know yourself and is certain that you are going to fall asleep soon.

He hadn't liked your parents at all; even though he didn't speak their language and they spoke only a few words of his, he could tell how strict and cruel they could be to you. That filled him with such a burning anger he couldn't really describe it. He just wanted to slam down his fork at some points and call your father out on the way he appeared to speak to you, but he also respected that in Thailand they had a slightly different value of respect for their elders in society, much like Korea, but did not truly understand the ins and outs of Thailand’s. So instead he would peacefully sit there and watch from a distance.

One thing he did love about this evening though was you; probably not a surprise, but it was true nonetheless. Despite the almost constant language barrier, as you were speaking mostly to your parents in Thai, he loved bearing you speak in your native tongue. He found the Thai language beautiful, especially in your soft voice, and it was even better when he could tell you was speaking about things you were passionate about. He heard his name quite a lot when you spoke directly with your mother and your father had stared directly at him. It lifted him from the floor when he saw the look in your eyes when you said his name.

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok says when he's finally brought back from his thoughts about this evening by you dropping your book on his lap and finally slumping against him completely. “Come on, enough reading, you need to sleep my love.”

“No, I'm awake I want to watch the snails,” you say sleepily, rambling in a tired state. Minseok just laughs gently as he takes your book and places it on his night stand, before pulling your glasses off of your face and setting them carefully down. He switches off the television and slides more under the covers, letting you curl up into his side before putting an arm around you and kissing the top of your head softly.

For so long he has fallen asleep to this sight; you, happy, peacefully drifting to sleep on your arms. The nights you have to stay late at university are the worst and every time he hates to think that there will be a time you'll be falling asleep without him. But then the next night you'll curl up into him like this, usually humming yourself to sleep or begging for him to sing you to sleep, and he will forget all his worries and do as you wish, softly singing random songs until you've drifted asleep, and once he knows you are happy and asleep, he can fall asleep, knowing the love of his life is happy there in his arms.

And nothing makes him happier than that.

---

I'm sorry but I had to write some Minseok fluff because I was drowning in feels. school starts again tomorrow so I definitely won't be writing as much :( but fingers crossed I have time. requests are open <3

[kay-emm-gee]

so we put it in a song

Pairing: Henry / Lizzie (The White Princess) Summary: In which Henry discovers how much Lizzie loves Christmas and somehow acquires a little enthusiasm for the holiday himself. { bandmates!AU | ~2.8k | teen+ } a/n: Inspired by Becky G & Lindsey Stirling’s Christmas C’mon (highly recommend listening, for the fic and for fun!). The minute I heard the violin notes, I knew I had to continue my band AU for these two. Also, because Henry would totally be a grumpy cat about the holidays until Lizzie showed him the true meaning of Christmas :) 

Henry never really watched breakfast shows, but he always had them on while drinking his morning tea. It was a habit he had picked up from living with Jasper in his younger--and poorer--years. The man was surprisingly attached to the puff pieces that dominated such shows, but Henry was not. He preferred to get real news from papers, and later in the day, when he could actually remember what he was reading. Whatever he put on the telly in the morning was just for background noise. He rarely paid attention to this politician or that celebrity who was advertising a new charity or cooking a cutesy recipe with a show host simply for a bit of good press.

When he turned it on one morning three weeks before Christmas, however, Lizzie appeared on his screen and he couldn’t help but stare in shock. She was standing atop a small stage in the middle of the studio, which was all decked out in holiday decor. A polite smile was plastered on her face--her interview smile, he recognized from experience--as she listened to the host laugh along with the petite, young woman who he quickly recognized as her sister. Henry snorted in amused horror at realizing they were wearing matching outfits: Lizzie in white jeans and white sweater, her sister in a sweater dress of the same style. Cecily was all bubbly laughs and bright sparkles, while Lizzie simply looked cool and collected. They couldn’t be more opposite.

He had no idea why he was seeing his bandmate on a morning show, with her sister no less. As far as he knew, Lizzie did not talk with her family much. She flat out refused to talk to her mother, and as her sister was still signed to the family label, he had assumed they were also out of touch. And yet here they were, side by side, on his screen before nine o’clock in the morning.

Bloody hell.

Still looking at the screen, he took a sip of his tea and immediately choked on it, as he hadn’t let it cool enough. He hastily set it down, almost spilling it, and then wiped his burning lips against his sleeve. Grumbling, he reached for the remote to turn off his main source of distraction when he heard the very familiar sound of Lizzie on the violin.

He hadn’t noticed the microphone stand and instruments behind them before, but now he couldn’t miss them. One of their holiday concert features, he soon realized. The camera was focused entirely on Lizzie, and with her violin held high on her shoulder, she was playing slow, sweet opening notes to some unknown tune. She was filling his entire telly screen, and his heart jumped when her eyes flicked up to look into the camera. They danced with amused anticipation, and her lips curved into a small, playful smile just as the focus widened and revealed Cecily stepping up to the microphone at the center of the small stage.

Immediately the tune picked up into some upbeat, cotton-candy pop melody, and Cecily’s bell-like voice filled his flat. She was a bit pitchy, in his opinion, but it was mellowed by the bright hum of Lizzie’s playing. While Cecily bounced and winked her way through the first verse, center of attention for both the camera and live audience, Lizzie remained steadily in the background. The expertly played violin notes were a forceful reminder that she was still there, however, and her sister hadn’t seemed to have forgotten her either, as she turned and sang directly to Lizzie during the first chorus.

If that didn’t startle Henry, the genuine smile spreading across Lizzie’s face certainly did. That grin was not her interview smile from before, nor the tight one she gave him before critiquing his lyrics or composition, or the mischievous one she flashed across the bar when she got bored with her new bandmates and wanted some other type of male company. This smile that she gave to her sister was genuine and fond, and Cecily’s returning one was just as bright and sentimental.

The two played off each other, and the small studio audience threw out a holler or two in response. Both their excitment and the crowd’s grew as they danced their way through the second verse and chorus round, until Lizzie took center stage again during the bridge. She played with a lightness he rarely saw in their practice. It almost made him wonder if he should give in to Jasper’s demands that they add a few lighter songs to their next album.

That thought--and Cecily’s singing turning acapella as the song moved into its last movements--jerked him back to the present. Henry frowned as the melody wound down and the applause heightened. As Lizzie finished off the song the way she had started, only a little softer and more melancholy this time, he reached for the remote. A smile was in the middle of forming on her bright face when he flicked the telly off.

“Enough of that,” he muttered under his breath. When he turned to his remaining tea, he found that it was now lukewarm, and that he was running very late. Hastily, he dumped the mug in the sink and hurried towards his door, irked that something as simple as a Christmas song had put him off his routine.

* * *

As he was heading to Jasper’s office, he heard a familiar, rich laugh echo down the hall through the barely open door. Lizzie was already at the studio, then. His steps slowed as he approached, and he hesitated before knocking. When he heard her speaking, he dropped his hand entirely and listened, even though he know he probably should not be lurking outside their meeting.

“Thank you again for understanding,” Lizzie said in an entirely sincere tone. “I know it’s not the usual image the band associates with, but my sister very much wanted me to do this with her.”

“I’m just surprised you two haven’t collaborated on more projects,” Jasper replied. “Especially when you were both at your mother’s label. A sister act sounds like an obvious act.”

Henry scoffed silently at the same time that Lizzie snorted. “That is precisely why we never record together. My mother believes in maintaining a diversified portfolio, so if one front fails she has others to rely on. Besides, if Cecily and I had to work together on a regular basis, we’d end up murdering each other. Christmas actually was one of the rare times growing up that we didn’t fight.”

“The spirit of the season?”

“More like a common goal: finding the Christmas presents that our parents stashed away.”

Jasper laughed, and Henry just knew Lizzie was smiling the smile he had seen on her face from the performance this morning.

“Your mother apparently compromised this time on your collaboration,” Jasper commented. Henry waited for Lizzie’s answer carefully, as he recognized the probing nature of his manager’s tone.

“She accepted it, yes,” Lizzie replied simply. A pause, and then she carefully continued, “or rather she had to, once she heard it on the radio.”

Henry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. It did not shock him that Lizzie would go behind her mother’s back--especially not after signing with his label, which was a direct competitor. It was news to him, however, that her sister had gone along with the subterfuge.

“As I said, Cecily very much wanted to do this. My mother...she thinks newer Christmas songs are typically tasteless. A classical cover she could have been talked into, but a pop song?” Lizzie laughed, a little too forced to be believed. “But my sister is as stubborn as I am when it comes to music, and I was more than happy to help her with this particular project. I told her it was her Christmas present.”

“But your sister is happy at the label, generally?”

“I don’t know if my mother could let it go if you happened to steal away both of her daughters,” Lizzie teased. “Besides, like I said, I don’t think she’d be a good fit for the band’s image.”

“Maybe I want to diversify as well,” Jasper joked. Henry rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past Jasper to come up with such an idea.

As Henry was deciding if his manager was indeed serious about the suggestion, he heard Lizzie and Jasper wrap up their conversation. He hurriedly pushed off the wall and strode down the hall. Once he was out of earshot, he leaned back again. Lizzie was laughing as she left Jasper’s office, coat slung over her arm. Though she was still wearing her outfit from this morning, her hair was in its usual messy bun with loose curls framing her face. Henry shifted against the wall and tugged at the collar of his sweater.

The movement caught her eye, and she gave him a half-smile, the one where he was never sure if she liked him or was mocking him.

“Henry,” Jasper said warmly. “Come in, come in.”

He passed her halfway down the hall, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Nice job this morning.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes, but her smile stayed the same.  “Thank you.”

Without thought, he grinned widely at her, and she looked away, cheeks flushing. She kept walking, steps getting faster. He just watched her go, and when he turned around, Jasper was staring at him with raised eyebrows and a knowing look.

“Stuff it,” Henry grumbled as he pushed into the office.

Jasper chuckled under his breath before closing the door behind them.

* * *

Henry soon learned that however nonchalant Lizzie appeared about Christmas from her conversation with Jasper, in truth she was very much committed to the holiday.

She never wore a jingle-bell jumper or anything of that sort, but he could hear the holiday music blasting from her headphones when she walked into the studio, and her earrings were either little christmas trees or snowflakes or some other winter-themed object. Her gifts to the studio staff were fancy Christmas cookies from some expensive place downtown. He ribbed her about that, why she had not made them from scratch. She simply rolled her eyes and archly replied that one could not be good at everything, and he should be glad her talents lay in music so as to save his band from complete unoriginality.

And the whole band noticed when she made the news for impromptu Christmas caroling at a local nursing home. Jasper joked that if she kept this ‘nice girl’ image up, he might have to manufacture a scandal to remind their fans that they were a rock band.

“I only went to visit my grandmother,” she muttered when the laughing had subsided. “I had no idea she’d told everyone her granddaughter was a singer. You try saying no to the elderly when they’re begging you to bring them some Christmas cheer.”

Despite her irritated tone, Henry knew she had not minded performing for them a bit. In the photos from the papers, she was wearing that damn smile again. It seemed only the holiday could bring out that unguarded side of Lizzie, and it baffled him. With his upbringing--in and out of foster homes--this time of year didn’t mean much to him. He hadn’t woken up to presents wrapped in bright, shiny paper under the Christmas tree, or had hot cocoa made for him on Christmas morning, or even spent his holidays with family. Of course once he had gone to live with Jasper in his teenage years, the man had tried to give him some type of holiday traditions, but by then the time of year was tainted. Back then, he did not care a bit that it was Christmas, though now, being older, seeing Lizzie’s joy at the holiday, Henry wished that he had something that made the season special to him.

* * *

Leaning on the counter in the sound booth, Henry stared warily at the small green box wrapped with red ribbon in front of him. He knew he should just unwrap it, but every time he tried, he heard Lizzie’s bright voice calling out Happy Christmas! as she had swept into practice with a bundle of similarly wrapped boxes under her arm. Each member of the band had gotten a gift. John and Edmund had opened theirs on the spot, and throughout practice they hadn’t stopped talking about how bloody perfect the gifts were for them. It shouldn’t have surprised him, with her enthusiasm for the holiday, that Lizzie would be an expert at gift-giving. And not only did it take him off guard, it also made him nervous what she would consider ‘perfect’ for him.

Finally, after blowing out an irritated sigh, he picked up the square box and ripped off the paper. Opening the lid, he lent more care to his movements after seeing what was inside. Henry drew the delicate ornament out of the box, trying to read the text written on the side of the shiny, red ball. He breathed in sharply when he recognized the date--that of his first gig playing at that small, grungy bar in Wales--and immediately he spun the ornament around. On the front, a carefully rendered depiction of the bar’s sign was painted, and Henry was dumbfounded. Even his most dedicated fans didn’t always know where he had gotten his start, before even the band. She must have asked Jasper, he realized as he twisted the ornament this way and that, watching it shine even in the low light of the booth.

As he went to replace it back in the box, he noticed a note tucked in at the bottom. Taking it out, he recognized Lizzie’s large, looping cursive.

My family always exchanged ornaments at Christmas, so I thought I’d extend the tradition on to you. You better put it high up on your tree within plain view...and if you don’t have a tree, then get one, Scrooge. Happy Christmas, Henry.

- Lizzie

He laughed under his breath before tucking the note in beside the ornament. As he put on his coat and grabbed the box, he glanced at the clock and wondered if the local floral shop by his place was still open.

* * *

Once he sent the photo, he could not help checking his phone every few minutes. Being Christmas Eve, Henry couldn’t expect Lizzie to answer right away, but he couldn’t help himself. Jasper started to notice and leaned forward on the couch.

“Expecting a call?”

Henry shook his head and shoved the phone away. Jasper pursed his lips in amusement and then took a sip of his drink. Henry took a sip of his, and then another large gulp when his phone began chiming out a ring. Jasper chuckled and turned up the telly.

“Don’t mind me. Answer it.”

Henry grimaced but reached for the phone anyways. His pulse lept when he saw Lizzie’s name on the screen, and he just stared as it kept ringing. He had expected a text in response, not a bloody phone call. Suddenly the telly was piercingly loud, and Henry scowled at Jasper, who was just grinning.

Muttering under his breath, Henry got up and walked into his bedroom as he pressed the accept button.

“That is a sad excuse for a Christmas tree,” Lizzie blurted without even a greeting. “It’s barely a foot tall!”

Henry smiled at the insult and closed the door behind him. “Best I could do on short notice.”

“Christmas comes the same time of year, Henry,” she complained over the sound of Christmas music in the background. “How much more notice could you have needed?”

“Well, as it was my first Christmas ornament, it never crossed my mind to prepare.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and he winced at the slip of honesty. Before he could play it off as a joke, she spoke again, softer.

“Then I’m glad I was the one to give you your first.” He tried to say he was glad too, but his throat closed up and he couldn’t get the words out. She started humming absently over the phone before continuing, “And now that you have one, you have no excuse next year to not get a nice tree. It had better be as tall as you.”

“I don’t think that would fit in my flat.”

“I guess you’ll just have to invite me over so I can disagree.”

“I guess so,” he responded with a low laugh.

They both were silent for a moment. When finally he was about to say something--what, he didn’t know--he heard someone call her name in the background.

“You should go,” he blurted at the same time was she groaned, “I have to go.”

They shared another small, light laugh, and then grew quiet once more.

“Happy Christmas, Lizzie.”

“Happy Christmas, Henry.”

Though he couldn’t see her, he was entirely sure she was smiling that holiday smile of hers--genuine, fond--and this time, it was for him.

As he hung up the call, he started smiling as well, wondering when he might see Lizzie smile like that, at him, in person.

[texanredrose]

Wrong Side of Heaven (Pt 6)

Last sinstallment.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (here)

The sun rose over the city, the dawn light creeping from one horizon to the other as the minutes passed. She watched it all from the fire escape, having fled the apartment the moment Heaven's light left her alone in the small space. She would've preferred staying within those walls, clinging to memories, but it suddenly felt so empty. Weiss had survived centuries walking through Hell, subject to the horrors of the den of sin itself, and she'd fought tooth and nail to escape the place, but never had she felt the sort of loneliness that struck her to the core ever since Blake disappeared.

She hadn't bothered reverting to her disguise, not yet. She still had the ability to hide from mortals' eyes without transforming; she only maintained the visage for Blake's sake, really.

Weiss had done a lot of things for the Fallen Angel. Some were small, some much grander, but she never said anything. Never made a big deal out of it. It seemed easier, at the time, to pretend like she didn't have this strange... fixation on her companion.

But now... words kept swirling around her head, things she wished she could've said but didn't. She thought it would be best, to keep her mouth shut, to help Blake achieve her goal and say nothing of how her own aim had shifted. Where before, she sought nothing but the freedom to do as she pleased, now she wanted only to see what the world had to offer with the Fallen Angel at her side. They'd been so many places already. They'd seen half of a country together, why not the rest of the world?

Her tail curled around her, a poor substitute for her companion's arms.

"Blake."

She wanted to cry. Imagine, her, a full fledged Pride Demon moved to such a base emotion- yet, there it was. She felt sad and lost, moreso than when she stepped into the mortals' world for the first time after breaking her chain. That had come with a brilliant sort of liberation... not this, this toxin working its way beneath her skin, poisoning her very being. The antidote- the only thing that could chase away this cursed sensation- was likely beyond her grasp. Even if she set about scouring the world now, how many centuries would it take for her to find the Fallen Angel? What if she missed her for centuries, a decade too early or late, or what if she’d been thrown down to Hell, as all those who fell were eventually sent? Where should she even start her search?

With a priest, of course. Someone of the cloth who might have the means of researching where Angels were sent when they failed to meeting Heaven’s exacting expectations. Mortals couldn’t understand the full nature of the worlds above or below, but they had colorful tales that contained kernels of truth. All she needed to do was find the right kernel.

"Blake, I swear you'll never hear the end of this.” She ignored the thickness in her voice, mentally adding the sharp edge it currently lacked. “You've got one Hell of a lecture coming your way when I find you."

"Would it help if I say I'm sorry?"

Weiss' head snapped up, blue eyes widening as the Fallen Angel landed lightly on the fire escape's railing in front of her, raven wings stretching out wide and obscuring the rising sun. "Blake?"

She smiled, crouching down and putting one hand on the railing to steady herself, though it seemed more a subconscious action than for necessity’s sake. "Did you miss me?"

"This is hardly a time to be cheeky!" Despite the inherent heat in her words, the Demon gained her feet and launched forward, putting too much energy into the movements in her rush to reach her companion. It didn't matter that she was balanced on the edge of a railing- honestly, she'd catch them both before they hit the ground- and the only thing that mattered was that she'd closed her arms around the Fallen Angel, confirming that it was her, really her, not some sort of illusion conjured by a wayward Demon looking for an especially painful banishment. The moment she did- careful to keep her claws from digging into flesh rather than fabric- relief suffused her being. "It is you."

Her tail latched onto the railing, to control their descent somewhat, but found herself hovering in air as the beating of wings met her ears. In the time they’d known each other, Blake’s wings had never had the ability to support her weight, merely cushioning falls. Yet, here they were, tethered to the fire escape by the Demon’s tail and held aloft by Angel wings.

"Of course it's me." Weiss opened her eyes then, looking up into amused amber eyes as great black wings nearly blended into her thick raven mane. "I made a promise."

It struck her, then, why her companion kept her torn wings hidden from view as much as possible over the past year. Seeing them now, in their full glory was like seeing the other half of a well known photograph, the complete picture far more spectacular. The shame that had clung to her like a shroud whenever they appeared, consciously forced aside so the broken things could still be used- it all suddenly made sense. But, honestly, the demon missed seeing the torn ones she’d come to know. What they lacked in size and power, they more than made up for in being meaningful, scars that told the story of how the Fallen Angel was forged, and they were a little... cute. She never said as much though; it probably wouldn’t be well received.

"One you've kept... for now." A frown touched her lips as Blake brought them back to the fire escape, setting them down lightly and folding her wings behind her back. Weiss didn’t let go- couldn’t, not yet- and found herself more than a little relieved that her companion didn’t seem keen on creating space between them, either. "I can't imagine it'll be long before Heaven calls you back to take your place among the other Angels."

"That's a call that will never come." She bent her head, allowing blue eyes to confirm the distinct lack of a halo hovering above her. "The Highest offered me a deal. I can keep my wings, remain immortal, but I can never return to Heaven. I’m Fallen, for all eternity."

Weiss furrowed her brows, shaking her head and trying to control the surge of hope in her chest. A Demon knew that there was always fine print, always some loophole- good things simply didn’t come without strings attached. "But... that's what you wanted. To go back."

"What I wanted... past tense, yes." Blake stepped closer, bending her head down and lowering her voice. "But I've found somewhere better than Heaven to spend the rest of eternity."

"And where is that?" The Demon felt her breath catch as one hand came up to cup her cheek gently, thumb brushing the bottom of her scar and following it up. She closed her eyes, allowing the soft touch to trace the remaining evidence of her flight from Hell, up to the nub of her broken horn and back, carding through ivory locks.

"Here, with you," she said, cradling the back of Weiss' head tenderly.

"Still such a wordsmith." A chuckle brushed past her lips, eyes fluttering open to look up at the now perpetually Fallen Angel, her companion until the end of time. "And still dramatic. Is there no end to your charm?"

"We'll see. We have all eternity to find out." Blake hummed, a flicker of something passing over her expression. "There were words I didn't say before I left. I didn't want to be unfair to you, but, seeing as I'll be staying... perhaps I can say them now?"

Weiss tilted her head, eyes flicking towards her companion's lips as she bit them nervously. So strange, how hesitant she could be despite being imbued with the power of Heaven itself. "You can. The question remains: will you?"

The Fallen Angel let out a surprised chuckle, pulling her in closer and speaking directly into her ear, soft and low. "I love you."

Fleetingly, she considered it strange. As a Demon, she'd known of Lust long before she'd ever encountered love, this foreign concept far beyond the comprehension of a creature such as herself. But she'd learned, piece by piece, both in her solo journey and with Blake by her side, that the things that seemed entirely out of her reach before were only such through ignorance or lack of conviction. She'd learn that faith and Faith were different things, that mortals weren't alone in their capacity to feel, to experience, to take charge of their destinies and fulfill their own goals, and that even a Demon could embrace the light of Heaven and come away unburnt.

Her tail slipped around Blake's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. "That's rather fortunate. As it stands, I love you, too."

"Hmmm, are you sure?" The Fallen Angel teased, drawing back enough to look her in the eyes. Although she'd often hidden away her broken wings, now with them in all their glory framing her silhouette... it made quite the picture.

Rather than waste time with words, Weiss pushed herself up, claiming her companion's lips in a kiss. She'd probably held onto the impulse as long as Blake held onto her words, neither wanting to burden the other with that strange, bittersweet heartache. It obviously wasn't the sort of response the Fallen Angel expected but she didn't seem perturbed by it, either, returning the pressure and holding her tighter.

After a few seconds, they parted, both wearing giddy smiles as a thought occurred to the Demon, one she could see reflected in amber eyes. This was the beginning of their new journey, free of a deadline, free of creatures hounding at their heels, free of anything but their own whims.

Truly free.

"I want to show you something." The Fallen Angel pulled away, lightly coaxing her into turning around and sliding both arms around Weiss' waist. Her tail quickly returned the favor seeing as her arms couldn't and, a moment later, her feet left the fire escape again, the two rising in the dawn light until they could watch the sunrise breaking across the horizon, light pouring over the city as Blake's voice sounded by her ear. "I know you don't like the mortals' version of flying, but how's mine?"

"Perfect." She turned her head carefully, eyes fluttering closed as a kiss was pressed against the curve of her intact horn. "I suppose we can go anywhere now. Do whatever we wish."

"Yes." Blake paused, some of her happiness sliding away. "Though, I made a deal of my own before I left."

"Oh?" Part of her was curious- she'd known all manner of deals mortals made with Demons, but what sort could be made with Angels? “Do tell.”

"Adam's descended into Hell. He's truly fallen from grace." The arms around her waist tightened. "But he’s still Adam and I know he won’t be satisfied until he’s taken down the Archangels, or been turned to sulfur trying. When he launches his assault on Heaven, I still want to be there to stop them. It's the only time I'll be allowed back."

Weiss felt a frown touch her lips. "I suppose it would be too much to ask if I could accompany you."

She had no personal vendetta against those who truly fell, no other reason to stand in defense of Heaven or against the minions of Hell... except to protect Blake. It would likely hurt- she still couldn’t walk too close to Holy Ground without feeling an unpleasant tingling beneath her skin- but it would be worth it in the end.

"That's why I made the deal," the Fallen Angel replied, a lilt to her voice. "When I am called to Heaven, you may come with me, so we can both fight against him. There... is a bit of a catch, though."

She perked up, twisting enough to look back at her companion. "And what's that?"

"The Highest gave me more stakes." Blake shrugged. "Apparently, we make a pretty good team when it comes to stopping and deterring Demons."

"He... does realize it'll be more difficult to come across them, doesn't he?" A smile started tugging at her lips.

She laughed. "I think he does, but he had to do something to make it seem like a fair trade. I think he's taken a liking to you. He offered to ascend you-"

"Pass."

Blake laughed. "I told him as much."

Weiss looked forward and leaned her head back against the Fallen Angel’s shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "Good."

For all her aspirations to be free of Hell, it never occurred to the Demon to aim higher. Truthfully, Heaven never appealed to her in any sense, always seeming more constricting than the chaos she'd known and no more enjoyable for it. But when she felt Blake's cheek nuzzle the side of her head affectionately as they watched the dawn rise, she thought this must be the Heaven mortals imagined when they spoke of the place. Such a profound sensation of contentment that spread through her, only eclipsed by the warmth she'd come to associate with her companion's presence.

In the arms of a Fallen Angel, the Demon had found Heaven on Earth.

Actually...

"Blake?" She turned her head slightly. "Have you ever considered putting your wordsmith skills to use? Like, writing a book?"

"As in, one of those we read that the mortals write?" A note of confusion in her tone brought a slightly wider smile to her lips.

"Yes.” Her lips curled into a smile. “I think I might have an idea for one such book."

[dasirunrunrun]

Good Grief - Chapter One

Jungkook makes a habit of showing up drunk to a nearby flower shop. Bad puns and fluffy pining ensue.

Or, a college!au in which BTS are all frat boys, Namjoon is a science club president,Jimin just wants a good party, and Jungkook is hopelessly fascinated by the girl who takes care of flowers in her free time. author’s note:  hiiiiiii!! so this is my first ever fanfiction, and to be completely honest- it’s a long ride. so strap in, and get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions. Also there is a soundtrack/playlist for this fic! If you enjoy listening and reading (or, if you just want to have a g list of songs) you can find it here ! disclaimer: All mentions of the university in this fic are purely pulled from my ass— I don’t claim to know anything on a deep, spiritual level about university clubs, classes or frat parties. Side characters, that aren’t specifically Bangtan Members™, are all made up and therefor fictional .

If you’d prefer reading on AO3 the link is here

chapter warnings: mentions of alcohol (and drunkenness) chapter notes: this chapter is all for getting things rolling and introducing characters! it’ll pick up for sure after this! 

words: 4.2k

Chapter One

track: do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys

There are loads of things you can expect while working in a flower shop- Like, for one, an abundance of bees, butterflies, and other bugs that enjoy the flowers just as much as humans. Or, the knowledge that your bouquet will go to a receiving, flustered, significant other. Those things are expected. Those things are welcome, even.

But, hearing an obnoxious, loud knocking at the backside shop door, at 21:30, is definitely not on that list.

It wasn’t like the gentle knock from the delivery guy in the middle of the day— No, this was a banging, brutish sound coming from the other side of the Hibiscus green house. At 21:30.

With my vast experience of watching horror movies, I thought I was well prepared for this kind of situation. I had convinced myself that i’d be a badass main character— with double pistols and a sick ass soundtrack in the background. Now though, with a probable axe murderer on the other side of the door, I couldn’t bring myself to move, let alone play something like Highway To Hell in the background.

So here I am, at 21:30, staring at the door shake with every rap from the lunatics’ hand.

They say panic brings on hysteria, and maybe hysteria is what brought a surge of curiosity to my head in that very moment. Who even comes to a flower shop this late? For a robbery? Maybe. But there’s barely any money to be made from selling flowers. My family and house is a clear example of that.

Fortunately, my thoughts were interrupted by a voice cutting through the silence— coming from the very door that was, just a moment ago, victim of a massive beating. “Hiiiiii- I’m sorry for disturbing so late,” came a very slurred, very sugary yell from behind the door.

I held my breath, trying to decipher what age of male could be the host to that scratchy, rough voice. When another intrusion of thought, this time: “Excuuuuusseeee me” came. His voice picked up, louder — echoing off the walls of the shops, which had me ducking a bit behind the counter for useless cover.

I stared at the screen door, faintly able to make out the shape of the “knocker.” He didn’t look so huge, maybe taller than me, but not in a way that screamed “old man.” I counted to three, allowing myself to gain the composure that was needed.

With newfound courage, that was promptly pulled straight out of my ass, I cleared my throat, and moved to the door. The walk there felt like eternities, and my heart was beating so loudly there was a good chance that he probably heard it. I took a deep breath, hand on the doorknob, wondering just how I could make an escape if this turned out to be a terrible idea. Giving a three second prayer to a God I wasn’t sure I even believed in, I pulled open the door.

I was met with a very drunk, as expected, very attractive boy- looking around the same age as me. His black hair fell evenly into his eyes, as he moved to tilt his head to the side in obvious curiosity. The boy’s lips broke into a grin— making him look like a sort of soft, inebriated bunny. “Hi ther-”

“We’re closed,” was the first thing out of my mouth, cutting off his dreamy sigh. He stood straight up, looking put off- in that drunk kind of way. I tried to clear my throat, hoping that it would give me the authoritative image I was going for.

“If you’re closed then why are you answering the door?” Was the unhesitating, sloppy, strung together sentence that was returned back to me. Although his face remained the very description of amused humor, I could only be reminded of a five year old boy- immaturely sticking his tongue out.

I didn’t respond, too stunned with the quip to try and reply. My thoughts were running wild; trying to think of an escape plan (incase things went south), and at the same time, trying to find a way to roast the kid back. It was a very conflicting, and telling, moment for me as a person.

“Haha, caught.” The boy sung back to my lack of response, bringing up both of his hands in the ‘finger gun’ pose. His voice sounded lazy, like he had lost the energy to keep up this conversation. “Yah, are you a perpetual liar?”

I found myself bristling at his accusation. It took all the willpower I possessed to not shoot something snappy back. “You need to leave.” I informed, trying not to let the  irritation I was feeling seep into my voice. I had to look up to meet his eye directly, and that, besides being held up from going home, was the most annoying thing. “If you don't— i’ll, i”ll probably call the police, or something.” The threat was weak and held little to no truth. That much was obvious, even to my own ears.

Drunk- door knocker gave an almost smug chuckle- the sound airy in the silence of the shop. “Alright, alright. Fair enough,” this time the response was definitely toned down, but still holding the same causal flow of someone who was undoubtedly inebriated. “I’ll go.” A pause. “Don’t want you ‘probably’ calling the police or something.” The last comment was, beyond any doubt, snark. And for the second time that night I felt the urge to slap him.

I blinked, trying not to let the shock show on my face, as he saluted me before turning to walk back down the road.

I leaned my back against the nearest wall, waiting to see if another sudden knock was to erupt from behind the locked door. To my absolute relief; there was none. The moments after seemed to pass like hours; silence encapturing the room like a net.

Letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, I slowly allowed my body to slide down — using my back against the wall as a prop and comfort. The situation, in reality, was terrifying. The strangers ease of words, and light smile had brought most of the tension to leave my body. But with silence as my only companion, the question of: What would have happened had it not just been a random drunk passing by? rose to my head. A shiver climbed up my body— urging me to wrap my arms carefully around my torso.

A buzz from my phone sent me jumping to the side— immediately feeling the panic sneak back up my bones. Illuminating light flooded from my phone, indicating a message from “Mom” with the following text of: ’lock up quickly, you’ll need to eat before sleeping xx’

Sending back a short “okay x” in response and quickly gathering my things, I made my way out of the shop— careful to lock everything up, and double check the security alarm.

The walk home wasn’t far; ten minutes by foot, notably shorter by vehicle. The air was crisp, but still warm enough for only a light jacket. Spring was approaching faster than expected, which meant the flower shop was also attracting business. The image of the boy floated back into my head at that moment, making me puff out a breath in indignance.

What was that about? The situation was too bizarre to even try and normalize. Though, after much pondering, it made a bit of sense. Our flower shop was down the street from a major frat neighborhood. Drunk college students should’ve been expected to be roaming by every now and then. Even so, adrenaline continued to pulse through my bloodstream. Nearly five years of closing up shop for mom, and nothing like this had ever happened. I made a quick promise to myself to never mention this to her. She’d just get worried, and then insist that she should be the one closing up shop again.

But she had enough on her hands. What with trying to raise two twin boys. I mean, Dad was there, but working night shifts at the factory didn’t leave much room for “family bonding.”

I let out a soft sigh into the night air, nearing up on our small house in the process. The warm glow of light filtered out through the blinded windows, and just the sight brought a welcome feeling of comfort. Feeling my face give way to a soft smile, I brought myself to move into the house. Immediately, the smell of home cooked food, and familiarity fell on me.

“Mackkiiiee!” The pet name, usually put to use by my little brothers, rung in the air. Turning my face to the left, I was met with the scene of Max and Jamie- sitting on the ground with, what looked to be a drone, in between the two of them.

“Look at what we did!!” Max squealed excitedly, motioning to the black drone with over enthusiastic flicks of his arms.

“Your brothers are at it again.” The voice came from behind me, my mom, somewhere at the kitchen table. “Doing their little tinkering.” She clarified, as if that wasn’t clear to me.

“Oh,” Was all I could manage to push out of my throat. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of two 10 year olds, but honestly sometimes life was unfair. Here I was, 19 years old, working as hard as possible just to land B’s in school. While my brothers were already crafting their own devices. I watched the boys, seeing their eyes flicker back to me with obvious expectancy. “It’s awesome, kiddos.” I smiled, forcing all of the petty immaturity out of my body. “You guys are modern geniuses,” I grinned “Einstein would be soooo jealous.”

This proved to be the correct response, because moments later, the perfect image of joy was captured in the smiles that broke out on their faces. The two boys clapped hands together, then moved onto trying to take the device apart and give me an explanation of their expertise.

I let out a fond scoff, before moving to the kitchen and talk with my mom. She was sitting at the table, having already made a plate for me, with a newspaper clasped between her fingers. “Was everything in order at the shop?” She questioned lightly, raising her brown eyes to look over at me.

I pulled out my chair, taking a seat as memories of the situation from earlier replayed over in my head. “Yep, all good.” I lied smoothly, forking a piece of almost burnt chicken into my mouth.

“And for school tomorrow? Should I ask your father to give you a ride-”

“No,no,no” I rushed out, voice muffled by the chicken stuffed in my mouth. “I’ll take the bus.” I amended, after taking a sip of water,watching the shock leave her face and dawn into realization.Guilt flashed in her eyes like a warning. I let out a soft sigh and sat back in my chair, “it’s no big deal mom. Thursday’s are my free days, remember? I only have News Club, anyways.”

She didn’t look convinced, if anything even more discouraged. “I know, I know,” She murmured. “I just- you must be the only college kid without a license-”

“Ma’-” I cut her off for my own sake, really. I’d heard her complain over the “supposed sob story” that was my driving education (i.e nada) for years. It wasn’t like it was anyone’s fault but my own. My mom had always offered to pay for my driving classes, and then, of course, the payments to a car. But, that always felt selfish to me. Plus, with perfectly usable public transportation- why was that necessary?

“Well at least-” I stood up then, not wanting to hear her attempts at trying to “make up for it” when it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m going to bed now, ma” I said lightly after shoving my dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food- it was great.”

《                                               》

track: seeing stars - børns

The thing about university is: it’s not highschool. There is absolutely no comparison between the two. In university, if you chose to be “out of the loop,” it works. Because you aren’t forced to have everyone’s life shoved down your throat.

And that’s pretty legendary.

But unfortunately, as president of the newspaper club, it is my genuine job to have everyone’s life in my throat. Or, more accurately, in my computer.

“Nora,” The use of my name meant things were getting serious. “I’m telling you, the biggest story at the moment is the binge drinking epidemic in the frat houses.” Mary’s hesitant voice made me look up from my computer- pen in hand. “It’s absolutely revolting-” Her lispy voice was cut off by Jona’s laughter from another cubicle-like desk across the room.

“Mary, nobody cares about a little drinking from the school’s “infamous party house.” That’s old news.” Jona’s argument was accompanied by a signature eyebrow raise. Jona, our best journalist, had a lot of opinions; and he never chose to be quiet with them.

“He has a point.” Seokjin chimed in, to the left of me, looking much like a secretary: with a clipboard in hand, and coffee in the other. Seokjin was our vice president, and my best friend- to add. We’ve been attached at the hip for almost my entire life. Every memory I possess: he’s apart of.

“Yeah- you’d say that. What with being apart of the same frat.” This time the interjection came from Finn— sitting on top of his desk with a soccer ball in his hands. He gave it a toss, catching it moments later as he added: “you probably just want to avoid the bad press for Sigma Butter Alimony, or whatever it is”

Seokjin tilted his head to the side “it’s actually Sigma-”

“Pause.” Jona’s loud voice came across the room, causing all heads to swivel his direction. “Jin’s in a frat? Scratch that, the frat?” His face was the epitome of disbelief— eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Seokjin. “My mans skinny as a twig, how is he out here with those guys?!”

Seokjin shrugged, unable to keep a smile from playing on his own lips. Mary let out an exasperated sigh, flopping into her office chair with a short grumble of words.

“So,” I started, glancing around the room to see all of their eyes had been averted back to me. “What i’m hearing is: we don’t have a cover story.” I let my words fall over the silence of the room— gauging everyone’s reaction.

The spring semester had just started, which meant stories were basically nonexistent. There was no interesting news to be told, because there was nothing interesting happening. Clubs were just getting started, most scandals were tamed or too old to even be considered news. Sport season was only just starting again, so that cut out all athletic stories. It was the great depression of Newspapers. A news article drought.

A chorus of agreements went around the room, making my shoulders sag with disappointment.

“What about the science club? Apparently they’ve been accepted into a famous science fair competition.” Finn suggested from across the room— his blonde hair was disheveled, probably from running his hands through it so much. “We could interview the president, Namjoon, and the star student Ju—”

I adjusted my glasses, flicking my eyes back to the white, blank screen of my word document. “We should wait until the competition is completed for that one. That way we can touch on the results- make a real story.” I kept my voice neutral, leaning back in my chair as silence, once again, filled the room. “We’ll keep that on the back burner.”

Mary threw her hands up, her curls bouncing with the movement.

“Then i’ve got nothing.” Finn shrugged, his face looking as blank as the current “article.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, mentally holding myself back from smashing my head against my desk. “Mary,” I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen “what all do you have on the frat story?”

I faintly heard a scoff coming from Jona, probably, and a low whistle from Seokjin.

I knew, just as everyone else, that the story wasn’t too complex- or even intriguing. But with no cover story there was no article, and this needed to be out by next week: at the latest. I looked up just as Mary bounced out of her chair, curls flinging wildly around her face.

“I’ll send all of my writing to you by the end of today!” She lisped out the words, voice full of excitement with a lower undertone of pride. In all fairness, this was her first cover story.

“Good, do that.” I watched as she moved around in a little dance— a smile tugging on the corners of my lips from the sight. “I’ll be heading out then, make sure to clean and lock up before you all leave.” I informed the crew, trying not to laugh at the scene of Mary attempting to rub her victory in the other two boys’ face.

“See ya’ boss.” Came Finn’s reply, flicking me a peace sign as I turned away.

Seokjin, as expected, followed me out only moments later. The air was warm, the beginning of spring manifesting itself in the weather. As expected, almost everyone was taking advantage of the sun: studying in the grass, unpacking picnics, while others had games of frisbee and soccer going.

As Seokjin and I walked, I ran over the previous conversation back and forth in my head. Despite the positive outcome, I couldn’t help myself from feeling a surge of disappointment at the lack of stories. A story like the one we were planning on writing, the one about the frat boys, was simply gossip.

“It’ll be okay.” Seokjin was staring at me— his face the perfect picture of calm and collected. He didn’t specify what he was talking about, but I knew right away. It always seemed like he could read my mind.

“I know,” The confidence in my voice was stronger than I was feeling. I clasped my hands loosely together, behind my back, as we walked. “You’re not mad, are you?” I was hesitant to ask: not really wanting to hear the answer. “I mean, this is about your frat house- your friends.”

He gave a light shrug— “A story is a story,” a pause was given in lieu to him bumping his side against mine. “Especially if it’s true. And who knows,” we passed a group of people playing guitar— having a jam session “maybe the story could help some of those who go too hard.”

I nodded along, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but then again— i’m not sure anyone besides Seokjin would think of it like that. He always looked at the world as if it were infinitely good— and everything was able to be fixed.

“So, your frat-” My attempt at pulling some details out of him was interrupted two boys from behind us.

A chorus of “Seokjin!”s rang in the air, pulling both me and the boy in question to a halt. We swiveled, almost in unison, to the duo walking behind us. A boy with striking orange hair, and a friendly face— accompanied by a hauntingly familiar mop of black hair, and a soft bunny smile.

I felt the air punch out of my lungs— eyes widening at the same moment that the boy, himself, glanced over at me. I watched his eyebrows knit together, an intense concentration flooding into his expression as he stared me down.

Seokjin was the first to speak, smiling lightly at the other two boys. “Jimin, Jungkook,” his voice held only amusement “‘m surprised to see you two up and moving after that party last night.”

The party last night. I flicked my gaze between Seokjin and Jungkook, the latter of the two still looking like he was trying answer the mysteries of the universe with every passing second.

The orange haired boy, the one who Seokjin nodded to first, Jimin- let out a laugh that held nothing but sunshine and friendliness. “It’s what we do, Jin-” His words were interrupted by the boy next to him.

“Do I know you?” The question had me blinking, and taking a step back all at once.

“No, you don’t.” I kept my voice firm— seeing the confusion in Seokjin’s face and the raise of eyebrow Jimin sported out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you sur-”

“Yes.” I interrupted, nodding my head along with the word.

“How sure?” He questioned again, looking utterly stumped.

“Pretty sure.” I squeaked out.

There was a long pause, no one daring to speak.

“Like what percentage of ‘sure’ are you at?”

“What?” I glanced over at Seokjin— watching him shrug back at me in response. He looked just about as miffed as Jungkook.

Jimin, once again, let out a loud laugh, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder as he did so. “Kook, you aren’t going to pull any girls with those lines.”

I flicked my eyes back to Jungkook who was biting his lip in obvious concentration, his head slightly tilted. The similarities from the previous night came so vividly that I found myself taking another step back. “I-I probably should get going…” I put lightly, bumping Seokjin’s side as a wordless goodbye.

Jungkook’s mouth dropped open— in either realization or protest, I couldn’t tell which. And, honestly, I wasn’t interested in staying to find out.

Seokjin nodded in response, mumbling something along the lines of ‘text me’ but i was too busy getting the hell out of there to take any real notice.

《                                        》

track: if you wanna stay - the griswolds

The walk to the bus stop felt much longer with the newest set of revelations on my mind. Jungkook. So that was his name. He was cute— in the way that, i’m sure, every girl recognizes.

I pushed my hands roughly through my hair— trying to simultaneously push the thoughts out as well. “Stupid Jungkook, stupid drunk knocking, stupi–”

My little rant was cut off by the doors of the bus opening in front of me— revealing a very bored looking bus driver staring at me expectantly. I hadn’t even heard the vehicle pull up, too lost in my own reverie. I nodded to the driver, pushing myself into the bus and picking the most familiar seat in the back corner.

It was a short bus ride, only 10 minutes, but enough time to finally stop thinking about that night. I made my way to the Flower Shop— walking in to be greeted by the soft smell of blooming flowers, and my mom, sitting behind the counter in deep conversation with a customer. I moved to the back storage room, grabbing a green apron and tying it around myself before starting with the plants.

Making my rounds around the shop, checking on flower pots and the progress of new blooms— it was a calming job. Easy to see why my mom loved it so much. There was also something so satisfying in being aide to the growth of something.

An hour or two passed, and my mom was yelling out a goodbye– giving me instructions like any normal day. I waved to her leaving figure, taking the spot behind the counter as more customers began to enter.

It was a busier day today, giving me a distraction that was well appreciated— and by closing time, I had almost forgotten completely about last night and the odd encounter with Jungkook today. As expected, no drunken knocks, or bunny smiles were thrown at me tonight. And locking up went as easy as it usually proved to be.

Replacing the relief I should’ve been feeling, there was another set of emotions. Too many to describe, though the familiar pull of disappointment hit me like a brick: surprising me more than anything else. I wasn’t sure what the disappointment was directed at anymore, but the feeling of it followed me the whole way home.

[sarahcreatesstuff]

February Romance Challange: Prompt 3 Sex and Candy (though not really)

Jack! Stop making my boyfriend flustered, you insufferable pup!

 The werewolf could only chuckle at the insult that came through his master as he shook his head and grinned wickedly at Nicholas who looked completely confused. Don’t lie to me, I know that you’d take him anytime, anywhere, even if he were only dressed in a towel. Which, by the way, was a freaking fucking image to have first thing in the morning the other day.

 Will you get out of my thoughts, you pervert.

 You’re the one who keeps forgetting to close the link off, matie, not me

 You do not close your thoughts off to me Jack

 Oh yes I do, if you knew half the things that I wanted to do to Suzy on a regular basis there would be no way that you could even look at me without blushing.

 There was no response to that comment and Jack just smirked at Nicholas who was giving him the look. “Don’t worry, just reminding Lucan of something. Since he’s talking to me, I think Liam will be done faffing with him so let’s get this show on the road.”

 Nicholas shook his head, as he stood up and made sure to grab his wallet and other necessities for the evening. “I’d prefer it if you were at least a little bit of your jackass self and threatening me not to hurt him or something?”

 A raised eyebrow look came his way, before the werewolf gave a long sigh and a shake of his head, “Dude, I practically ripped you apart when I came too all those years ago, how much more of a warning do I need to give you?”

 “You practically threatened half the student council with hurting him,” Nicholas commented dryly back.

 “No, I threatened the student council that if they let that piece of trash near to Lucan without me present, then I would rip them a new one,” Jack replied, looking a bit too smug about it, “There were those who supported the creep and I am still positive that the whole poison episode was done by those two little shits…”

 Nicholas sighed and threw his hands up in the air, “No, you big overprotective lug, why aren’t you threatening me with like not hurting him or something or…I just…being you.”

 For a few seconds there was a silence whilst Jack gave him a look before a very firm snort came out of the others nose, “Dude, I’ve been trying to get you two together properly for decades, why would I threaten you when I already know that you’re Lucan’s mate?”

 Another pause passed between them before Nicholas blinked, “You know that I’m Lucan’s mate?”

 Letting out a series of very long groans as he ran his hand over his face, Jack let out an exhale again before promptly smacking Nicholas around the back of the head with a force which would have floored an average human being but just caused the vampire to stumble forward a few steps. “For the love of…why do I live with a pair of love struck idiots? Bloody…Jesus Christ! I thought that humans were fucking dumb when it came to love.”

 “Okay, I hear the JC exclaimation, what are you doing to annoy my mate?” Suzy’s voice came from the living room where she emerged in only a long sating night gown, a pair of bunny slippers and her hair in two high bunches that were slightly dripping with left over moisture.

Nicholas sighed, “Wondering why he’s not threatening me with some kind of pain or torture because I’m taking his Master out on a date tonight?”

 Suzy blinked and stared at the other for a few seconds, taking in his quite frankly stunning appearance which even she admitted that she wouldn’t say no to or kick out of bed in the morning either. Vampire or not, Nicholas looked like he had walked straight out of a fictional setting and was practically anyone’s dream boat right now. Her grey eyes flicked over towards Jack, who looked positively ready to throttle Nicholas with an ever suffering expression on his face though there was an extreme amount of fondness too as she had come to learn in that group. She carefully ran the others words around her mind before frowning at the vampire. “You’re seriously wondering why he’s not threatening you?”

 “Yes,” Nicholas replied with a frown on his stunning features, black kohl eyeliner really made his eyes so dream worthy, “Because he has not and he threatens everyone at least once when it comes to Lucan.”

 Blinking again, Suzy slowly turned to Jack, “You did tell him that you know right?”

 A silent nod was her answer, along with a confirmation hum as her young mate rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his fingers in clear frustration. “And his response?”

 “To quote ‘You know that I’m Lucan’s Mate?”

 “Jesus Christ,” Suzy replied, shaking her head and punching Nicholas on the arm, “Now I get it.”

 “Get what?” Liam said, appearing at the bottom of the stairs with Lucan in tow.

 Jack sighed, “Nicholas is wondering why I’m not threating him because of tonight…”

 “and he didn’t get it when Jack told him that he already knows that he is Lucan’s mate,” Suzy finished off looking just as frustrated as her own mate.

 Liam blinked and stared at the taller vampire, “Jesus Christ, seriously?”

 “Can we all please stop with the calling of the blasphemy?” Lucan said softly, “It’s giving me a headache.”

 “Then please explain, at some point tonight to your darling boyfriend that he’s an idiot and doesn’t need to worry about getting threatened by me,” Jack said, engulfing Lucan in a great big bear hug and squeezing tightly. “By the way, you look bloody gorgeous and he’ll get a tail kick if you two don’t end up doing something by the end of the night,” the words were whispered directly into Lucan’s ear, for only him to hear and the vampire reacted in the way that Jack knew he would. By punching him on the arm with a very red and flustered looking face. Clearly the other had drunk an little extra blood to keep his stamina up and the knowing smirk the alpha sent to his master was more than enough to be completely unable to cover up that fact.

 Lucan shook his head and latched his hands onto Nicholas’s arm, smiling gently up at the very fine masterpiece that was his boyfriend who looked simply divine tonight. “Shall we escape from thes conspiring trio of troublemakers?”

 There was a slow response from Nicholas as he took in Lucan’s full appearance. Smart black suit trousers, white shirt with the buttons just undone enough to expose some of that very hidden milky skin he adored no end and a black waistcoat which hugged everything nicely together. The others honey blond hair had been styled up and back from his head, modern but yet classically refreshed and there was just the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks and a tiny spec of red on his lovely lips that was entincing. He looked youthful, dashingly handsome and charming but held a slight rebellious look with a series of earrings in his upper left hand ear in silver and a golden stud in his right hand lobe. It took Nicholas a moment or two to snap out of his dream like daze, noting almost at the exact same time that Lucan did the same thing and they shared a stupidly soopy grin with one another as they chuckled.

 “I wish I could take a picture of this and use it for blackmail material later on,” Liam sighed whistfully, completely breaking the moment and causing the two lovestruck vampires to turn to their friends.

 “Nah, wouldn’t work mate, they’re both so whipped it’s unreal,” Suzy replied, sauntering back into the living room and dragging Jack behind her with a whine about wanting some chips or something. Liam sighed and blew a frustrated sigh from his lips, “Man, what am I supposed to do tonight?”

 “Go hit up Heather?” Jack shrugged, “Or get grossed out by me and Suzy snuggling together watching creepy horror movies until them two come back?”

 Liam pondered for a moment and then clambered back up the stairs to grab the landline and ring to check that Heather’s crazy brother wasn’t over before sauntering over to her place for the rest of the night.

 Jack smiled and snuggled close to Suzy on the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment. “You’re seriously not going to pry?” Suzy asked, passing Jack a piece of popcorn from a very large bowl she was eating from.

 A shake of the head was her reply, “nah, those two are going to be completely fine. Probably be even more cutely gross and confused by the end of the night to be honest.”

 Suzy chuckled, “And they used to say we were the annoying couple.”

 “We were only annoying because I wouldn’t go near you because my wolf wasn’t old enough,” Jack replied, kissing the woman’s neck gently, “Even you admitted it wouldn’t happen until then.”

 “True, but you could have at least gone to that dance with me as my date,” Suzy quipped back playfull.

 “And get eaten by all three of your brothers? Are you insane,” Jack replied shaking his head, “They were already planning to attack that arsehole if he came anywhere near you…”

 “But you got there first,” Suzy replied, smiling as she turned around to kiss Jack, “and that’s the most important thing.”

 The couple smiled at each other as they started to share soft, sweet little kisses, sometimes deepening them but mostly just enjoying the little sparks. Liam made gagging noises as he passed by the doorway, letting them know that he was off out to see Heather and would probably be back at some point in tomorrow evening. The wolves waved him off and then settled down to watch someone getting ripped apart together as was one of their favoured ways of spending a date night, as strange as it seemed to everyone else in the world.