#part of this def. is because queens are usually not in charge of caring for the drachlings directly but with Verada's case it was even wors

[ruthlesslistener]

13 for Takhanobou (did I spell it right)

You did! Which is impressive, bc while I'm fond of the name, yeah its a lotta letters

13. Name one thing their parents taught them.

-WHELP, Taki's sire is dead, and Verada took a very hands off 'tough love' (to put it mildly approach) that famously backfired and horrifically fucked up his socialization to the point where he was incapable of understanding his tribe's own rules about honourable combat, so the only thing that she really taught him was how to kill another dragon. She'd claim that she taught him how to be self-sufficient, but when it boils down to it, her means of caring for him was basically malignant neglect, with the bare minimum she ever did focusing on training him how to fight and hunt other dragons. Nothing else

OC ask game

[shotsbyshae]

A Little Wicked

Warnings: Language, Little Smut-ish

Words: 1.3k

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

A/N: Monster of the Week Drabble featuring everyone’s favorite playboy and a new guest star. 

Song: A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard

No one calls you honey when you're sitting on a throne.

You loathe a pencil skirt.

It’s much easier to move quickly in a pair of ripped up jeans and boots if the circumstances arise. Have you ever tried to run in a pair of five-inch stilettos and a pencil skirt? It’s not fucking easy.

Yet here you are, in your red heels with a form fitting solid black skirt that hits you mid-thigh. The white Def Leppard band t-shirt you wear is tucked neatly into your waistband, and your black leather jacket gives you a don’t fuck with me vibe as you stroll through the front doors of the building with the brown paper bag clutched in your hand.

You exude confidence as you make your way through the building, gaining sidelong glances from several people, some of who have seen you come through here before – more than once. No one knows your name, you’re just the girl who always brings in a brown paper bag.

You never knock on his office door, always striding in like you’re in charge, locking the door behind you.

After all, you’re a mother fucking queen. You always remind yourself of that, because he’s the reason you put on heels and wear the skintight skirts you hate so much – he loves it.  

You’ve never let a man have any sort of control over you. You’re cold – calculating – you would rather shred a man’s ego before stroking it. Part of you hates the way he makes you feel – part of you likes it.

Tony Stark makes you soft.

You’d never admit it to him, although you suspect he knows from the snarky grin he has on his face as you stride over to his desk, tossing the paper bag onto the glass surface.

“I’ll call you back Rhodey,” he says into the phone he’s holding to his ear before dropping it back down on the cradle. A toothy grin causes his eyes to crinkle around the edges and you shake your head in disgust at your weakness. Oh, he knows. Even his voice is oozes sex appeal as he greets you, “Hi there.”

You move around the desk and his eyes watch you hungrily as you grab the arm of his chair, turning him to face you. You’re not gentle – he loves it. You run a hand through his jet black hair, fingers tangling in it as you grip a fistful, jerking his head back to look up at you.  

“It’s been a while,” his tone is flirty. Dark eyes peering up at you with respect – desire. “You look great.”

You smirk, “Shut up.” You slam your mouth against his as you straddle him in the chair. His hands sliding the skirt further up your thighs as his fingers dig into your skin desperately. He takes control of the kiss, his tongue pressing against yours roughly.

No man has ever had power over you like this.

Tony Stark is the only exception.

“Did you bring me a present?” His questions quietly against your mouth.

“It’s in the bag,” you reply, feeling him hard against the inside of your thigh.

“Good girl,” the tip of his tongue licks against your lip, in a long, languid movement. The heat of his mouth radiates into yours. Wet – you’re so wet – you fucking love to hate Tony Stark.

***

You carefully tuck your shirt back into the waistband of your skirt as Start drags the paper sack across the desk to him, opening it carefully.

“When are you going to come work for me?” Stark comments as he pulls out a neatly wrapped cheeseburger and lays it beside the bag.

“Never,” you reply grinning as you slip your heels back on.

“Come on, larger salary,” he smirks, removing two vials full of a deep red liquid. “And I know the benefits are better.” You roll your eyes at him as he lifts the glass tubes higher, inspecting their contents. “This is pure, right?”

“All mine,” you remark as you pull your jacket back up on your shoulders. You head toward the door, tossing him a wave over your shoulder. “Have fun with your little experiments Tony.”

His dark eyes watch you closely as you exit his office, his lips turning up in a half smile. Fury had assigned he and Banner the task of creating a unique serum, requested it for another S.H.I.E.L.D. asset, some man named Brooks. He’d done some research and summoned you. He was thinking you would be more of a deformed, monstrosity of a creature. You were definitely not at all what he expected.

You had started supplying him with your blood six months ago.

He and Banner had the serum created within the first three months.

You didn’t need to know that though, because he lives for the thrill of these little moments with you. He loves dancing with the devil, knowing at any moment you could break his neck with just snap of your fingers. You are domineering – formidable – you submit to no one.

Except him. You submit to him, with soft, throaty moans and wet, reckless kisses when your body presses roughly against his – always so desperate for his touch.

In those little moments, he owns you.

You hate it.

He loves it.

You’re both damned.  

***

The room is dark and dank as you make your way inside.

It’s musty and wreaks heavily of sulfur – more so than usual.

Which means he’s home and cleaning house. Part of you wonders who he killed – hopefully more than one – many weren’t loyal.

You are though.

The others talk – gossip – run their mouths about what a failure of a King he is. They don’t like the way he does things. Don’t like the way he trusts certain people, but you understand it.

Good. Evil.

There’s a fine line to walk between the two.

Not everyone is a hundred percent one way or the other on that spectrum.

Down here it’s all death, torture, and self-preservation. You’re not supposed to think – care – about anyone else, especially humans.

Except, he does and now, thanks to a snarky, arrogant, and reckless playboy, you do too.    

“There you are,” the man at the front of the room announces, his accent deep, gruff, and British. The suit he’s wearing matches the black, high-backed throne upon which he’s sitting. “Where have you been?” He visibly takes in your appearance, as your heels click sharply against the stone floor. “And what in the bloody hell are you wearing?”

“Shut up,” you pop off as you approach him. “I had business to attend to.”

Realization strikes him and his eyes narrow, “Did you meet with Stark again?” You don’t respond as you pick up a book from the table near his throne, idly flipping the pages. “Got a thing for superheroes do you?” The wheels are turning in his mind, he’d tried for years to get a contract with one them. Almost had one with Banner, but he backed out last minute. “When are you sealing a deal with him?”

“I’m not,” you reply simply, not looking up from the book in your hands.

“What – I made you Queen of the Crossroads,” his voice rising an octave out of anger. “That’s your entire job. You need to seal a deal.”

You turn a hard stare on him, “No.”

“Excuse me,” he looks at you in contempt.

“If the Winchesters are off limits,” you begin sternly, dropping the book back on the table, letting it land with a hard thump that echoes in the room. “Then so is Tony Stark.”

He watches as you slowly move closer, sitting down on the arm of his thrown beside him. The man glares at you, the sheer audacity in which you speak to him would warrant a death sentence from anyone else.

You aren’t anyone else though. You are his favorite – the teacher’s pet – you know it.

You run your hand along his shoulder, your voice softer, “What’s the matter Crowley? I know it’s not me you’re really mad at. Who’s got you all ruffled?”

The demon let’s out a sigh of frustration, “Mother, who else?”

[thevirtualcanvas]

To Be Loved By: Ignis

Being loved by Ignis Scientia is being loved by a man that makes you feel more valued, more fascinating and more lovable than anyone else on the continent. With rose-tinted glasses this normally pragmatic and lateral man loses his ability to think reasonably. To him you are perfect, flawless, your faults are simply part of your charm and your charms are beyond compare. To you he is cut from crystal, a thousand perfect facets, clear and decisive, full of depth, and marvel. To you Ignis Scientia is the most priceless thing this world ever produced, and all the magic and mystery and intrigue in the world can't hold a candle to this beautiful mind and endless heart.

With a head full of knowledge and viridian eyes that see all, Ignis adores you. At first you felt dazed and intimidated by his brand of affection. He knows all your favourite foods, literature, films, music and even that spot in the park that overlooks the Citadel at sunset. Things that took you months to pry from him, it was almost unfair how much of him he was willing to part with compared to how much of you he held in his hands. You'd find your favourite treats on your desk, a note in impeccable regal handwriting wishing you a good day in words so poetic your heart would skip a beat. Ignis is good with people. He knows how they tick. After spending most of his life in servitude to a family who represent the pinnacle of humanity he likes to think he gets things right. He doesn't always. He finds the balance of your needs and the Crown's needs – difficult. After spending so long with his solitary attentions on Noctis and his life,  his needs. Ignis panics when he finds he has his own to take care of, and yours. He's sometimes cold, and after a long day all he wants is some time alone, to recharge. He can forgo things you think are important, but to him are trivial. He spends his days being privy to world affairs, a high tea with Nan is hardly def-con one. He always apologises. Always in writing first, you have stacks of letters, and notes, and postcards. Written in his cursive scrawl, etchings of affection, adoration, promises and loving prose sealed within sheets of paper and card. Then it's usually hand picked gifts, little things, silly things. He has such a dry sense of humour. Laundry liquid wrapped in a gilded box with ribbons and frills, Your supply needed replacing, I saw this and thought of you, my love. A hamper of new towels and toiletries because you've been using the dregs of a bottle for over a month. With a sickly sweet note that would cause you a riotous laugh, usually at work and reprimanding thank you text straight away to him.  Your favourite apologies are when he turns up in person, a little bedraggled, a worry line in his brow and those endless green eyes devour you for the first time in weeks as he takes your hands and begs for forgiveness. He's such a drama queen. But it's fine, because that's when Ignis loves you in person and for all his letters nothing is like having the real thing. He treats you like Royalty, he's had plenty practice. Calls you Highness, all night, won't let you lift a finger as he showers you with enough affection to made your head light and your heart full.

To be loved by Ignis means loving him too. As Adviser to the Prince Regent it requires everything he has. His time, his knowledge, his fealty and his love. He loves Noctis. That's plain as day. Everything he does for the Raven haired Princeling is out of love and adoration. Even car ride, trip to the arcade, meal made, notes written, late nights, apartment cleaned is to help Noctis out. Only Ignis knows the burden that befalls him and you admire his ability to commit to him. In turn you try your best to love him, as much as he loves the Prince, though you're not always successful. His room is always clean and he has a stocked fridge. His clothes are always cleaned and pressed. He doesn't need you to nanny him. In the end you start doing dumb things, something to make him laugh. A loot crate of ebony to his door each month (which was six sent), a kiss the chef apron for his baking(he wears it at Noctis'. Noctis find it's hilarious), a key to your apartment and spare set of clothes in your wardrobe for when he's too tired to go home. Every conceivable product he's ever used in a separate cupboard attached to your bathroom wall so he always looks his best. Which humbles him to no end, and he can't quite process how to thank you, yet. You even bought an iron, you'd never owned one until you met Ignis. His bewildered indignation shamed you into getting one from a catalogue. It's pink and has flowers on the plastic.

It's also hard work on your part. Ignis is not a man that brings walls down easily, they are tightly sealed. It takes weeks and months of deduction, research and willpower to break through. You feel like a cat burglar. Caught against the clock to break your way into the vault filled with precious memories and information that can change your world but the second he realises what you're doing he panics and security is back up and you have to retreat and try all over again. His childhood was hard. Not that he ever went hungry, or slept rough, but borderline loveless. If not for the love and guidance of Regis and the doting love of Noctis his life would have been worthless. His parents died when he was young on a diplomatic mission to Galahd and his Uncle was incapable of caring for him, thus giving him to Regis as a indentured hand to Noctis. Ignis never discusses his life before Noct, though loves to hear about yours in depth. The more mundane the better. It embarrasses you and sets a fire in him. Slender and perfectly manicured hands reach for yours, pawing at your skin as he encourages you to keep talking, he could listen to you for hours.

When it comes to loving you in private Ignis has perfected the art. He teases, prolongs and leaves you begging for him. It's the time he truly thrives on attention. He drowns you in luxury, decadence and at the crux of it all true, raw love. He reveals himself to you, plying for your tongue, your words, body and soul. The crystal mask fractures and behind is the real man who needs to love and be loved just like anybody else. He adores to see you undone, hot, flushed mess, nerves alight and body on fire, muttering his name and whimpering as he moves back to admire you. There is still control in what he does, Ignis must be in charge, he controls the pace, the intensity, the end. Finding joy in serving you even here too. Though there are times when you just can't take any more. When you have to have him under you, between you and calling your name in a voice so debauched the mere sound of it is enough for you to loose yourself. It's in these fleeting moments Ignis finds himself truly at home with you. Finding comfort and happy in his vulnerability and yours. Then when the heat fades and your wrapped in each other by the light of the pale moon. A glimmer of a smile on his face as he breathes you in, he whispers I love you into your hair, a short but perfect declaration. Treasured and stored in your own mind forever.

To be loved by Ignis Scientia is being loved by a man with the knowledge and intelligence to see you for what you really are. To see beyond your imperfections and insecurities. To focus on and polish up those beautifully unique facets of yourself that makes you so priceless and invaluable. To be loved by Ignis Scientia is to make him the luckiest man in Eos.

[starsgivemehp]

Underfell!Sans (Red) vs. Frisk - Pacifist fight

Word count: 4,287

This is how Red fights Frisk in the pacifist route of my Underfell universe! It should explain several things about Red and why he does what he does, and his opinions and beliefs and assumptions. You might understand his character and personality better because of this~ Not meant to be responded to in RP.

(P.S. I also put it up on my deviantart, with a bit more description at the end! http://getmcdunkedon.deviantart.com/art/Underfell-Pacifist-Sans-Fight-655697770)

"stop right there, kid." Frisk came to a halt, staring ahead of themself in surprise. Sans was suddenly a few feet in front of them in the long golden hall, whereas Frisk had been alone a moment ago. How did he keep doing that? More importantly, why was he here? They hadn't seen him since he had watched with apparent amusement as they fled in terror from Undyne across the Hotland bridge. Before that, not since their 'date' with Papyrus, during which Sans had glared daggers at them from afar. That look had made shivers crawl down their spine. And he was glaring now, his eyesockets completely dark. But rather than the scowl he had worn then, he was grinning darkly. Frisk swallowed their fear and lifted a hand to sign. 'Sans...? What are you doing here?' Sans didn't answer right away. Instead, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his grin widening, and began to laugh quietly. "hehehe... you made it all this way, huh? there were a few dozen times through your journey when you should've just died. yet, here you are, about to face the king of all monsters. how did a human kid get past my boss, the captain, and a murderous mad scientist?" Frisk frowned, dropping their hand again. How could they explain? None of the monsters realized it whenever they died and returned to their previous save point. They hardly understood it themself. But before they could think of a way to answer, Sans spoke again. "don't bother. i know how. by making friends with them. by being nice to them until they spared you out of pity or to return the favor. well, lemme tell ya somethin', kid. no one spares anyone down here. that's just not how the underground works. for years, there's been one rule. kill, or be killed." Frisk set their jaw, straightening up, and finally found words. 'But I did neither of those things.' In a manner of speaking, anyway. "heheh... that's right. you didn't kill, and you weren't killed. well. good for you, kid, but now what?" 'What do you mean?' "i know alphys told ya. you can't pass through the barrier on your own no matter how much 'determination' you have. you need a monster soul and a human soul. and not just any monster soul, either. a monster soul that will persist long enough after death for you to take it and absorb it. a boss monster's soul. and as of right now, there are only two boss monsters. one is the king, and the other... well, who knows where the queen went?" Frisk knew where the Queen went. But before they could try and interrupt to say so, Sans kept going. "so, kid. one of two things are gonna happen now. one, you fight and kill our king, take his soul, and pass through the barrier leaving us behind and without a leader. we fall into despair. monsters everywhere start falling down and dying. we struggle to survive and hope against hope that another human will fall soon. two..." 'Yes?' "two, you die. you give us your soul, and we break free of this prison after centuries." He stretched out his left hand, palm up. His pupils finally appeared again, and the dark grin faded into something more neutral. It would look nice, even, aside from the fact that his sharpened shark-like teeth made his smile never look entirely nice. "you can guess which one we'd prefer. i'm askin' ya nicely, kid. do everyone a favor, and give it up peacefully. if you do, i'll make your death quick and painless. i'm a nice guy sometimes, y'know, and i don't like to put in a lot of effort. fighting is a hassle, don't you agree?" Frisk stared at him in silence, hand dropping to their side again. He was just... asking? For them to sacrifice themself for the good of all monsters? They hadn't expected that. Honestly, there was a part of them that wanted to agree to it. Despite how brutal the monsters had been to them... despite Papyrus's sharpened bones that sliced off their limbs, despite Undyne's spears that stabbed through their skin, despite Alphys's bombs and electric zaps that charred their flesh, none of them were evil. Just desperate, angry, and trying to save their kind. Frisk was a giving person by nature. Back at the orphanage, they often shared their meals with some of the smaller children to make sure they didn't starve, or shield them from the drunken owner's fist. But to give up their own life, even for the freedom of so many? They valued their life so much. And besides, they were sure they could help the monsters in some other way. They shook their head. 'Sans, I can't. I have to return to the surface. But I won't kill your king, either, I promise you.' Sans's grin darkened again. He turned his hand, palm now pointing at Frisk instead of up at the ceiling. Suddenly, his left pupil became red, while his right one disappeared entirely. Frisk's soul flickered into view, and a FIGHT began. "well, i had to try it the easy way first, didn't i? now you get the hard way, kid. die." Before Frisk could react, their soul became blue with a ding. Papyrus had done the same thing. They prepared for bones, but Sans just lifted his hand up sharply, and they went flying up into the ceiling. There was a cracking sound as a rib was broken, and they cried out in pain. Then he slammed them back down onto the ground, and bones shot up, impaling their foot. They yelped again, but before they could stumble, they were thrown into one pillar, then another. As they slid down, a huge skull figure appeared over Sans's shoulder. It opened its maw wide, there was the sound of energy charging, and then a huge blast of magic hit them, burning their skin. 3 HP left. They stumbled and fell, and a bone shot up through their chest. They coughed up blood, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, then their soul broke with a crack. Everything faded into darkness. Frisk hit LOAD. The golden hall was empty again. Frisk fell to their knees, trembling and gasping for breath. Terror was coursing through them. They had never died so easily before. Hardly twenty seconds had passed between the beginning of the fight and their death. Just what kind of monster was Sans? What was that skull thing that had blasted them? How had he thrown them about like a rag doll, using the same power Papyrus had only used to increase the gravity on them? How powerful was he? And most important of all, how had he attacked them so suddenly, without a chance for them to CHECK or ACT first? They always got to make their move first, no matter what! Frisk took a few deep breaths, then got to their feet. They could do this. They had determination, after all. They weren't quite sure how to SPARE Sans, but then again, they had never been sure of it for any other big battle. They would figure it out, it just might take a few tries. They stepped forward, preparing themself for Sans's monologue again. "so my theory is true." Again, Frisk froze, gaping at Sans as the skeleton popped into existence there in front of them. He looked just as he had last time, dark smirk, no pupils in his eye sockets, hands in his pockets. But his words... His words were different. '...What's true?' they signed slowly. "heheheh... that expression... that's the expression of someone who just died. i guess... you refused my offer, huh?" 'How... how did you know I...?' "have the power to turn back time after death? i didn't, not until just now. but i had a hunch. it makes sense, doesn't it? no wonder you got past everyone. pap would'a killed you within three turns, i know it. same with undyne. aside from that, i've felt things... changes in the timeline... anomalies. you've died before, i don't know how many times. but only once to me, huh? well... there's still time for you to change your mind." He lifted his head, adopting the same neutral expression as before, and offered his hand. "c'mon, kid. make my job easier and give up." 'Sans, I won't. I will never give up.' "heh... you just like to do everything the hard way, don'tcha? fine." His eye flared to life and the FIGHT began again. This time, Frisk was prepared. They shifted as they were flung upward, hitting the ceiling in such a way that it hurt, but didn't break anything. They weren't fast enough to completely dodge the strange blaster, so it singed their arm and made them cry out, but they managed to minimize the damage. They also rolled out of the way of the bones coming up from the floor, just in time. Two more blasters appeared, one on each side, and then flung themself out of the way just barely in time. At last, the onslaught was over. Sans returned his hand to his pocket, and Frisk's usual options popped up. They struggled back to their feet, gingerly holding their wounded arm. ACT -> CHECK *Sans - 1 ATK 1 DEF *Judging you harshly *He is the weakest monster, with only 1 HP 'That can't be!' Frisk looked up at him with wide eyes. Sans had just watched them CHECK him still wearing a grin, and now shrugged. "what? thought i was stronger? i told ya, i don't like fighting. but hey, you should've attacked while you had the chance, buddy." He held out his hand again, changing their SOUL back to blue. This time, every time they crashed into some surface, bones popped up that they had to jump away from. One went through their left leg, causing them to stumble and shout in pain. But they survived this turn, somehow. ACT -> TALK *You tell Sans that you refuse to fight. He doesn't care. 'I'm not going to attack you, Sans!' "then you're stupid, kid. because, see, i'm not like the others. i don't like you, i won't ever like you, and i don't bother pitying anyone, for any reason. if you don't fight me, you'll just die again." 'No! I will SPARE you somehow!' "heh. well, go ahead and keep trying, if ya want. gotta give up some time." He attacked again. With their wounded leg, they couldn't dodge the blasters in time. Crack. LOAD "that expression..." 'Sans...' "that's the expression of someone who's died twice recently." His hand outstretched. "third time's the charm, kid?" '...No.' "have it your way, then." - - - - - - - - - - ACT -> JOKE 'Hey, Sans! What do you call a skeleton that stuck its head in the freezer? A numbskull!' "pfffffffthahahahaha! good one, kid! i'll use it myself when i get to the surface." Crack. - - - - - - - - - - ACT -> FLIRT 'Did you sit on a pile of sugar, Sans? Because you have a pretty sweet ass!' "hehe. clever, but i'm a skeleton. i don't have an ass." Crack. - - - - - - - - - - ACT -> BEG 'Sans, please, stop! You've killed me four times now!' "i know how to count, thanks. i'm a physicist. a well-rounded five, maybe?" Crack.

- - - - - - - - - -

MERCY -> SPARE "lemme tell you a story." Frisk clutched their arm, wounded from a bone attack they couldn't dodge in time. Sans was now leaning on a pillar, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He watched them with just his left eye open - the one that glowed a bright red still. "so i'm a sentry at snowdin forest, right? out there, in the middle of nowhere, is a door. the door to the ruins, i'm guessing. but it's perfect for knock-knock jokes. one time, i was sittin' there, crankin' 'em out as usual, when i heard a voice. a laugh. someone was on the other side, and they liked my stupid puns." 'Sans...' "shh. listen. it was a woman. i don't know her name, i never asked. but she really fucking loves puns. i kept tellin' her more, until she knocked herself and told one of her own. she was good. we started goin' back and forth, almost every day. we've been doin' it for over a year now. it rules." Sans had a fond look on his face as he kept telling the story. He never even had that expression when talking about Papyrus. Their relationship was strained, that much was obvious. But it seemed he really liked Toriel. He went on, looking back at Frisk. "one day... the lady wasn't laughin' much. somethin' was wrong, i could tell. y'know, i'm pretty good at telling stuff like that. so i asked her what was up. she never did get around to tellin' me what happened." 'Sans-" "i'm not done, don't interrupt me. she didn't say what was wrong. instead, she asked me somethin'. she asked me, 'Sans, how do you feel about promises?' and so i told her, 'look lady, i don't make promises to people unless i trust 'em a lot... but you're one of those people. tell me what you want and i'll decide.' so she told me this: 'Sans, if a human ever passes through this door... please kill them.'" 'Wait, what?' Frisk signed incredulously. "it's the truth. she said to me, 'Please kill them quickly and painlessly. Do not let King Asgore torture them. Give them the mercy of a painless death from someone with a good heart.' and so i promised her that. and then, a few months later, here you are." 'But... but...' "look. i take my promises seriously. i keep 'em even if they could kill me. so i intend to keep this one too." It was long since time for him to attack. Frisk had lasted thirteen turns, and fully expected to die soon. But he didn't attack just yet. Instead, he pushed off from the pillar and stood in front of them properly. His expression softened again. He offered his left hand, the magic in his matching eye dying down. "you'll never get out without killing the king, kid. we'll never get out without your soul. this is the best outcome any of us can hope for. i'll make sure it's painless. just take my offer."

*Sans is 'SPARING' you... from further pain. Frisk stared at his hand, still clutching their wounded arm, and fought back tears. More than ever, they were tempted to accept the offer. Would it be so bad? They didn't have much of a life to return to on the surface, it was just that the others at the orphanage had relied on them... So many people relied on them. That was why... 'Sans... I can't. I refuse to die. I refuse to give up.' "but why? giving up is so much easier. it takes so little effort. it hurts less. just give up, kid." 'I won't.' Sans sighed, dropping his hand again. "...you see? this is why i hate making promises." Crack. - - - - - - - - MERCY -> SPARE "lemme tell you a st-" 'You told me last time.' "oh. did i?" Sans leaned on the pillar like he had done before, closing his right eye - the blank one - again. Thirteen SPAREs, and he gave this story. After twenty deaths, this was the second time Frisk had made it this far. It must be a point when the battle begins to shift. At least, they hoped so. They were less injured than last time, but still doubted they'd make it this time. Sans watched them a moment, then stood up straight and offered his hand again. "if i already told ya, you know what i'm gonna ask. it's not too late to change your mind." 'I know the lady.' "...what?" 'The lady on the other side of the door. I know her. I know her name.' Sans just stared at them for a moment, frozen. But then he grinned again, dropping his hand. "hehehe... i really shouldn't be surprised." 'Her name is-' "stop. don't tell me. i don't want to know." 'What? Why not?' "when you've finally given up... when i can bring your soul to the king and break us free... when all monsters meet up on the surface, i'll search for her by her voice. i'll find her. i'll see her for the first time, and then i'll ask her name. don't ruin that moment for me, kid. i don't want to know until i can look her in the eye and tell her i kept my promise." 'But Sans... she... she doesn't-' "shut up, i said. i told you, i just don't want to know until then." 'But-' "are you going to take my offer or not? make your choice." *Sans is 'SPARING' you... from further pain. 'Sans, no. I won't die. Not for good.' "tch... you and your determination. you know somethin' kid? i fucking hate you." He attacked again. Frisk barely leapt out of the way in time to avoid being killed. A bone smacked their head and they reeled, but they survived. They didn't hesitate on their choice. MERCY -> SPARE (14) "kid, stop that!" 'I won't!' "i don't accept your mercy, damn it! you either die or you have to dust me!" 'I refuse to kill you, Sans!' "then just die!" 'I refuse to do that too!' 'you can't refuse both! you have to pick one, there is no middle ground here!" 'There's always a middle ground! Mercy is always an option!' "enough! i've had enough! kill me or die!" He attacked again. Frisk spent a turn eating one of their spider donuts, and then lost nearly half of their HP the next turn. Still, they had to press forward. MERCY -> SPARE (15) "stop it! if you won't die, then just kill me!" 'I refuse!' "why??" 'Because I care about you, Sans!' "wha...?" It was time for his attack, but he didn't do it yet. Their soul turned blue, but his hand was just outstretched, not yet moving. He stared, his pupils disappearing. His teeth gnashed. "you... care about me?" 'I care about all of you! I care about your brother, I care about Undyne, I care about Alphys, and I definitely care about you!' For a moment, it looked like he believed them. It looked like he might just set them down and let them go on their way. But then his expression hardened. His other hand balled into a fist. "...you don't. those are just words. if you really cared about me, about any of us... you would just die already!" He flung his arm up, wrenching them up to the ceiling. They hit it hard, crying out, and a bone shot up through their leg. A few more slams and bones, and their vision went dark. Crack. - - - - - - - - MERCY -> SPARE (16) 'I mean it! I care about you, Sans!' "why the fuck would you even care, you don't know me! and i haven't exactly given you any reason to care, either!" 'I know enough! I know you love your brother, even if you act like you hate him.' "you don't know a thing about our relationship." 'I may be a kid, but I'm not stupid. I know you care about way more stuff than you let on.' "shut up!" Frisk was getting better at dodging, but his attacks had shifted. They were more disjointed now, one type of bone attack cutting off after a few moments to be replaced by another, then another. And even when it was their turn, there were bones flying at them, meaning they didn't even get a short break before hitting their choice. MERCY -> SPARE (17) "you can't keep dodging forever! you're just gonna die again, so give up!" 'I refuse!' "you can't refuse forever either!" MERCY -> SPARE (18) "i'm seriously losin' my patience! if you keep this up, i'm gonna use my special attack!" MERCY -> SPARE (19) "does it sound familiar? well, mine isn't like boss's, it won't be so easy!" MERCY -> SPARE (20) "it's gonna be fuckin' painful, kid, you're way better off just dying now!" MERCY -> SPARE (21) "i've had enough! i'm giving you one more chance, kid!" MERCY -> SPARE (22) "ok, fine! you asked for it! survive this, and i'll show you my special attack!" Frisk was flung in all directions again, and when they were cast all the way across the hall, bones flying at them from multiple directions, they were too thrown off to react in time. Crack. - - - - - - - - - - "survive this, and i'll show you my special attack!" It was the eighth time Frisk had heard those words. They could only imagine how tough that would be, if they kept failing at this doozy. They survived all of the bones, from all directions, and when at least two dozen blasters started shooing practically nonstop, they scurried between the beams, ducking and throwing themself out of harm's way for what seemed like an eternity. But finally, the blasters dissolved. Frisk's SOUL turned blue again, and they caught a glimpse of Sans, looking really worn out and frustrated, before they were slammed into surfaces around the hall again and again. No bones, just crashing into first one pillar, then another, and each of the walls, their body bruising everywhere. Harsh pants filled the air as Sans kept flinging them here and there, his eye glowing brightly but his arm slowing. And at last, Frisk fell to the floor with one last thud. As they struggled to get back to their feet, Sans fell to his hands and knees, the magic in his eye fading again. He gasped for breath, bones rattling quietly, sweat covering his brow. "hhh... hhh... hhh... why won't... you... just die...?" he panted, his eyesockets completely blank now. "why... hhh... why won't you... just... give up...? hhh... p-please... hhh... please just give up..." Frisk didn't have a menu in front of them. It was still, somehow, technically his turn. But they could move now. They shuffled towards him and knelt down nearby. Their body hurt everywhere, they were bleeding, but even so, they offered a sad smile. 'I can never give up, Sans. I've got to get out.' "hhh... hhh... k-kid... i don't... i don't have... some special attack... that's all i got... hhh... you b-beat me... i can't kill you, s-so... so please, just... kill me instead." FIGHT or MERCY? *MERCY 'Sans, no! No. I refuse to kill you. I refuse to kill anyone.' "please... please, kid, i'm beggin' ya... after all of this... i can't watch you kill the king and take away our hope. i can't watch papyrus feel betrayed when he finds out he befriended you only for this to happen... i just... can't... kid, i can't do this anymore... i can't..." He began to sob. His tears were red and translucent as they dripped onto the golden floor of the hall. *MERCY Frisk reached out and patted his shoulder, half expecting him to snap at them and attack again. But he didn't, just kept crying quietly, the faint sound of bones rattling underneath his poorly-stifled sobs. 'No, Sans. I care about you so much. I would never hurt you.' "if you cared about me, you'd do this for me... i've only got 1 HP, you must've checked me at some point... i'm all out of HOPE... watchin' you take away my bro's hope is gonna kill me anyway... this would be the less painful way to go. please..." *MERCY 'I refuse.' "b-but why not? aren't you pissed at me, kid? i killed you so many times, i lost count. just do it." *MERCY 'Because I know you're a good person, Sans. You were only fighting me to protect the people you love.' "that doesn't justify murder. why are you doing this? why are you sparing all of us when we've been so cruel? anyone else would've dusted us by now! everyone else would agree we're bad people!" 'Because... I believe even the worst person can change. That everyone can be a good person, if they just try. I'm going through life trying to be the best person I can be. Forgiving everyone of their mistakes and bad choices, in the hopes they'll try to become better people too. It's working so far... Hasn't Papyrus changed? You saw him on our date.' "y-yeah... he... he looked happy... he hasn't looked like that in over a year." Sans wiped at his eyes with one sleeve, his pupils returning as he looked up at them. "you changed him, kid." 'I'm glad. Because I care about him a lot. And I would never hurt him by killing his king, or you, his precious brother. He loves you, you know. Even if he doesn't say it.' Sans's distressed expression shifted. He even smiled a little, the most genuine, fond smile they had seen on him since his story about Toriel. "heh... i know he does. i love him too. i want him to get to the surface. i want him to get to drive a car. i want him to be able to see the sun and stars." 'I want that too. I'm going to do it, Sans. I'm going to set everyone free.' "but how? we can't harness the power of your SOUL without killing you, and we need those seven. that's the only way to do it." 'I'll find another way. I always find another way.' "heheheh..." He was silent for a long moment, then slowly got to his feet and took a deep breath. "...okay. okay, kid. i believe you." He offered his hand one last time. They took it to get to their feet. The FIGHT ended.