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katerina-marie · 1 year ago

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The Tragedy of a Duality

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader and (Past) Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader

Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6, Chp 7 (Final)

In the present, you are a sorcerer and the cherished wife of the Honored One. In an era long gone, remembered by only one, you were ordinarily human and the beloved bride of the King of Curses. How fitting it would be, in an evening of destruction, to have your heart torn in two.

Content: JJK Universe and Canon Events (tho tweaked to incorporate reader), Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Ambiguous ending, Violence, Death, Female reader but left descriptively vague, No use of y/n, True Form Sukuna in the past, Itadori Yuji is Sukuna's vessel in the present but nothing inappropriate b/n reader and Itadori as the vessel, Innuendos, Allusions to + Vaguely described sex so avoid accordingly. Will add more CW to each chapter if needed.

WC: 4.4k

A/N: A bit of a bridge chapter/transitive chapter, if you will.

Chapter 3

The distance between your village and the next largest market isn’t terribly far, but it still takes up a good portion of your morning on the best of days. When the sky begins to grey and thunder rumbles closer and closer, you know your trek is about to become even longer. The smell of wet earth and crisp air is always pleasant to you, but nothing about continuing a journey in robes that are heavy with moisture and cling uncomfortably to your skin sounds enjoyable, so you divert from the road onto a lesser traveled path.

Sanctuary from the rain under the cover of thick trees is your only option, so you wander and weave between them, cognizant of your general location but unaware of exactly where you might be. Droplets of rain occasionally splatter against your cheek as the sky opens up, and you can hear the droll of it against the foliage above you. Thankfully, you remain mostly dry, and you continue to walk slowly and hum to yourself while waiting for the weather to turn.

After a few minutes, you spot a bunching of trees that seem different from the rest, and upon closer inspection, excitement runs through you when you realize they bear fruit. You inspect the trail behind you and then side to side to ensure you are alone before hurrying over to one. It takes two or three attempts of you leaping from the tips of your toes before you are able to snag a pear from the lowest lying branch that is still almost beyond your reach. You rub it against your sleeve before taking a bite and relishing in the burst of sweetness on your tongue. You finish it rather quickly and are reaching for another when a voice from behind startles you.

“Do you have a habit of stealing fruit that doesn't belong to you?”

When you spin around, your face is contrite and your hands are held up innocently in front of your chest. You are ready to entreat the assumed owner of the land for forgiveness until your eyes fall onto who stands before you, and any logical words die in your throat. You immediately fold yourself into a bow and stare at the ground while you brace trembling hands on your thighs.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord.”

Weeks ago, news of the being that usurped the ruling of the lands you live in reaches your small village. People whisper words of horror and fear about the monster that Ryomen Sukuna is. You know of his second pair of arms and the extra eyes that sit under the first ones. His size and strength set him apart from anything else, but it is his viciousness and ruthlessness that strikes terror in the hearts of anyone who goes near him. The description of him is something out of a nightmare, and the sight of him proves to you the truthfulness of what you hear.

“You may rise,” Sukuna tells you, but you are slow to stand back up, afraid to find out what happens to those who steal from the King of Curses. You keep your eyes downcast out of respect, but you can still see the white of his robes as he stalks toward you.

“Am I so repulsive that you cannot bear to look at me?”

You let out a squeak of alarm and fling your eyes upwards, and you aren’t sure what to make of the interest coloring his face.

“No, no,” you say placatingly, “that is not it all.” You pause before adding “my lord,” hastily.

Sukuna laughs, and it is deep and dark from somewhere in his chest. He prowls nearer to you, and you gulp in trepidation. While the image he makes is as intimidating and heart-stopping as you know him to be, there is something otherworldly and enticing about him. The white fabric of his robes are edged in blue and they split open across the great expanse of his chest. You follow the black tattoos from where they trail down his jaw, loop over his shoulder and then continue down his torso. They compete with the muscles of his chest to steal your attention.

“Tell me,” he muses, finally coming to a stop just an arms length away from you, “what brings you to my new estate?”

Your heart drops to your feet and you blanch. “Your estate?”

“The edge of it, to be exact, but yes—my estate.”

You contemplate whether making up some pitiful excuse could earn you mercy, but the thought of getting caught in a lie and the punishment that would follow has you choosing truthfulness.

“The r-rain,” you stammer. Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue, and you step back in wariness. He pursues you, and his feet land in the place yours had just been. “I was on my way to the market in the town north of here when it began to rain.”

Your hands flit about in front of you before gesturing towards the sky, and you note curiously that while Sukuna’s main set of eyes follow the path of your hands, the ones lower trail over your figure before settling on your face.

“The trees would keep me dry while I waited for it to stop, but it seems I also felt a bit hungry,” you finish, and your arms flop ineloquently back against your sides.

In an effort to appear deferential, you quickly clasp your hands over one another in the front of your stomach and hope that Sukuna can’t see how tightly you clench the fabric of your robes between your fingers. He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he weighs your words, and you cast furtive glances over his shoulder or to your feet, anywhere that isn’t his eyes and the intensity of them. They are predatory in their observancy, and you would worry for your life if they did not trace the dip of your collarbones or linger at the curve of your bottom lip.

“How about you return with me?” he offers, and you jerk your gaze back to him. “You may wait out the rain in the comfort of my home and I will repay your company with a meal.”

No amount of critical thinking produces a plausible answer as to why Ryomen Sukuna is inviting you to his estate. You do consider your own mortality and how vulnerable it is in his presence, though you suspect that bringing you along to his home only to kill you would be excessive and unnecessary. In a similarly frightening, but shockingly alluring alternative, Sukuna could intend to make use of your company in a more salacious and carnal manner. Or it could be as simple as sharing food with one another and filling the time with conversation, maybe giving you the opportunity to deduce a possible explanation by the end. Either choice carries with it problems and difficulties to a varying degree, but the thrill of what is not yet known urges you to acquiesce.

To maintain some sense of propriety, you pretend to ponder his request just a little longer and let your focus flit about to the scenery around you, avoiding Sukuna entirely. From the way his eyebrow quirks upwards and his hands twitch at his sides, you suppose he has caught on to your teasing.

“I might find that agreeable,” you say, and that draws a sly smirk from him as his eyes flare wide. He moves toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “However, I would like to request another pear before we leave.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, but he takes two large steps forward until his chest skims yours. You tip your chin up to keep a hold of his eyes as he stretches an arm above your head.

“Whatever you desire,” he croons, and when his hand appears again before your eyes, an unblemished green pear is trapped between his forefinger and thumb as he holds it out to you.

---

In the coming weeks, you are summoned back to Sukuna’s estate with some regularity after the first time he invited you in to ply you with food and drink while he peppered you with questions about your innocuous life.

A being appears at your door with white hair cut short and an odd strip of red around the back. You have to come to know them as Uraume, unsettling and uninviting in their demeanor, and they hurry you out each time with nothing more than a placid remark of, “it is Sukuna-sama’s request.”

This time, when the weather is a little warmer, you find yourself in the middle of an expansive garden. It stretches farther than your eyes can see, overflowing with abundance, and when Uraume vanishes after telling you Sukuna will arrive shortly, you take the time to study flowers and plants you are familiar with and wonder at the ones you are not.

“Why is it no surprise that I find you enamored by common weeds?”

Sukuna, as you have come to learn, makes no noise that alerts to his sudden appearances. His voice usually sends your heart racing and a gasp is ripped from your lips, though you gradually become used to the slight shift in energy that precedes him. As time passes, you might startle less and less, but until then, you give him an unimpressed look over your shoulder for the way he grins because he scared you, and for the mild insult.

“And why is it no surprise that you would think so lowly of them?” When he narrows his eyes at you, you smile coyly and bow your head just slightly. “My lord.”

Sukuna is by your side and offers a hand when you begin to rise from your knees. Once you are steadied, he crosses his arms and tucks them back into his sleeves.

“They are suitable decorations, I can admit, but that is the extent of which I appreciate them.” Sukuna lowers his head to peer into your eyes, and there is something playful and teasing lurking in them. “My interests lie in other more…invigorating pursuits.”

You cut your gaze from him, shifting a little to be back in reach of the flowers, anything to escape the underlying insinuation of his words and the way they make you flush hot. The sun is also warm on your back, and it is anyone’s best guess as to which is responsible for the way a bead of sweat drips down your neck.

“I acknowledge your opinion, but I do not happen to share it,” you tell him. You turn your back to him completely to brush your hand over a bush of varying colors. “Some of these are medicinal. Others have a pleasant fragrance that I tend to enjoy.”

You pause and pluck a particular flower from the bunch before facing Sukuna again. “And others simply serve no other purpose than being a beautiful sight to behold.” You lift your hand in front of his face, and cradled in your palm is a blossom the same shade of pink as his hair.

It delights you to see the way he fights a grin, and in a move that you do not perceive as normally characteristic of him, Sukuna plucks the flower from your fingers and slots it delicately behind your ear. His hand lingers to dance over the apple of your cheek, and when his thumb catches on your bottom lip, you bat your lashes at him coquettishly.

It is a powerful look you have discovered. The last time you pulled it from your arsenal, you had nipped a piece of fruit from Sukuna’s proffered fingers and let your teeth scratch over the joint of his knuckle. He kissed you breathless there after, and you yearn for it again now.

It seems to be successful. Sukuna’s hands cup your jaw and tilt your head up. A second pair of arms wind around your waist to drag you against his chest, and your eyelids flutter closed on their own accord when you feel his breath whisper over your lips.

“Tempting,” he says, and a chuckle comes next. Your eyes snap back open, and he taps your mouth when it turns down into a pout. “Worry not, I have a proposition for you.”

Your expression switches into one of inquisitive interest, and while waiting for Sukuna to continue, you twine your hands into the belt that keeps his robes tied shut.

“Wed yourself to me.”

---

Two pairs of elaborately decorated ceremonial robes lie discarded on the floor. The storm clouds outside darken Sukuna’s bed chambers and you can hear errant drops of rain hit the ground. Your belly is still full from the celebratory feast that took place after your wedding, but now a deeper satiation makes your body languid and warm.

You twine your arms under the pillow that cushions your head and stretch lazily against the bed. Your back is exposed to the cool air and it pricks at the drying sweat on your skin. Exhaustion is lowering your eyelids and sleep is beckoning. Before you get there, the side of the bed dips.

“Did you miss me while I was gone?” Sukuna murmurs, though it is playful and unserious. “I have returned to you now.”

A damp linen cloth drags over your lower back and legs before you can answer. You shiver at the chill it leaves, but the warmth of Sukuna’s hand follows behind to chase it away. The gentleness of it is a stark contrast to just earlier when you were under Sukuna and at his mercy to how his hands squeezed, and grasped, and kneaded your body.

A breath of laughter escapes your nose. “How can I miss you when you were only gone for a moment?”

Sukuna’s hands freeze and he grunts. “Cantankerous wife,” he mutters. But you smile into the pillow at the affection in his voice, and when he resumes his ministrations on your body, you let the feeling of his hands and the pattering of rain lull you into sleep.

---------------------------------

Four days pass before you see Itadori Yuji again.

Much like the afternoon following the incident, you spend the rest of the week proctoring the training of Fushiguro and Kugisaki while Satoru keeps Itadori hidden away for whatever it is that he and Nanami have him doing. You hear bits and pieces from your two students about how Itadori seems to be faring well despite the circumstances, and that the three of them are getting along just fine.

The scant details are enough to keep your worry mostly abated, and in the spirit of the approaching weekend, you release them from their training a couple hours early. Kugisaki is effusive in her rambles, and you barely catch whatever plans she describes as she hurries off. Fushiguro is much less excitable in his expression of gratitude and departs with a simple bow of his head. Their opposing personalities warm your chest with affection and leave you with a tranquil lightness as you head back to your shared office with Satoru (his insistence) to catch up on reports while you wait for him to finish his day’s work.

Through the window at your back, the setting sun casts looming shadows into the room, and you have to shake yourself awake as you feel your eyes grow heavy. There is a knock at the door that breaks your concentration from the computer screen in front of you. When you look up, Itadori is standing ramrod straight in the doorway. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are wide, but the expression on his face is friendly.

“Hello, Itadori,” you say as you lean back in the chair situated at your desk, and he waves at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup, everything’s fine.” Except Itadori’s voice is strained and he makes no move to step into your office, nor turn back to walk down the hall. Instead, he rocks on the balls of his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets. You purse your lips and fold your arms across your chest as you watch him expectantly. Itadori blinks back at you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you prompt him. Itadori shakes his head, leaving you at a loss, but this time he walks forward and sweeps his eyes across your office. He shuffles to the towering shelves on the right wall and looks closely at a couple books before meandering across the room to pick up various knick knacks you have sitting on a hutch. Your eyes follow him the entire time, and you notice how he quickly moves his focus away from various photographs of you and Satoru over the years that you have pasted on a corkboard hanging on the wall.

With a sudden spin and jerky movements, Itadori finally comes to sit in the—in your opinion—unsightly black sofa that Satoru placed in the middle of the office and just a few feet in front of your desk so he would have something to nap on when he felt the urge. From it, all Itadori does is look at you. You glance at your computer, unsure what to do, and when the silence starts to feel awkward, you tap your nail against your thumb as you rack your brain for what to say.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?” you ask. “Or if you’re not comfortable sharing with me, I’m happy to call Nanami or Satoru for you.” You’re already reaching for your phone where it sits next to you on your desk when Itadori blurts out a hasty “no!”

Your hand freezes, and when you look back up at Itadori, he’s rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, and his knee bounces rapidly. “So, how did you and Gojo-sensei meet?”

The question catches you off guard, and you stammer as Itadori awaits your answer. It crosses your mind that the boy might simply be lonely and looking for some company now that the school day is over, but it’s nearing evening on a Friday, and you expect him to be finding a way to celebrate the incoming weekend. Just to be certain, you raise your brows in question, and even though Itadori grimaces briefly like he wishes he could take back his request, he nods at you in encouragement.

“Uh, well,” you start, blowing out a breath and clasping your hands together. “He and I were once students at the school here together…”

It’s not as if you haven’t heard about “the Honored One” before. You’d be hard pressed to believe that anyone in the jujutsu world could have existed presently without knowing of the infamous white-haired sorcerer. Of course you know of his talent, how he is considered the strongest, and you suppose such a title would allow for the level of arrogance he is known to carry. More so, you’ve been subjected enough to the whispered giggles and gossip from the other girls in your school to know that Gojo is—objectively, of course—as attractive as he is powerful, though you didn’t view that bit of information as anything pertinent.

When Geto Suguru spends two months at your school that was hours and hours away from his for some assignment, you find yourself paired up with him and thus privy to the details of his life as the two of you spend time getting to know one another. You resist asking him about Gojo Satoru in an effort to preserve your dignity, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you give in just a couple of days into the partnership. To your utter shock, as the two of you are walking back to the dorms after a training session, the first thing to pop out of Geto’s mouth about his best friend is to call him a “monumental pain in my ass—affectionately, of course.”

The words come out warmly, but they cause your jaw to drop nonetheless. Geto laughs and proceeds to tell you everything about Gojo Satoru that you have never hoped to know. He’s goofy and surprisingly awkward at times. His constant craving for sweets is borderline child-like and more akin to an addiction than a simple preference. He sometimes uses too many Digimon references in a sentence, and even Geto can’t always figure out what he means.

When the laughter dies down and the two of you stop at the doors of the dormitory, Geto’s face goes somber and his smile is weak. “Satoru can be a lot, but…he is the biggest burden to himself, and I wish it didn’t have to be that way.”

Now, half a year later, when circumstances move you to the Tokyo school, Geto Suguru looks mildly embarrassed as he walks you through the gates of the campus. The high bones of his cheeks are mottled red, though that could be explained away by the bitterness of the winter winds, but the hand that’s not carrying one of your duffle bags squeezes at the back of his neck as he chuckles nervously. You drag a suitcase behind you, another bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re grateful that Geto was willing to greet you outside the school to help you get settled in.

“I know I already kind of warned you about him, but I promise he’s actually harmless, if not a bit overly playful.”

“Trust me,” you say amusedly, “I remember what you told me about Gojo Satoru.”

“Yeah, well,” Geto mutters, “it’s a whole other thing to hear about Satoru versus actually experiencing him in person for yourself.”

You roll your eyes and are momentarily perplexed about how lovingly Geto disparages his best friend, but before you can question him about it, someone enthusiastically calls his name from across the grass, and the both of you look ahead in the direction it came from. Gojo Satoru waves erratically before breaking into a jog, and Geto turns back to you with a pointed widening of his eyes.

You ignore him in favor of watching Gojo eat up the ground with those long legs of his, and all those details come flooding back, even the ones you didn’t care to focus on. The blue of his eyes are breathtaking and unnaturally so. His height makes him lanky, and you figure that time will fill out the rest of his stature, but it doesn’t take away from the charmingness of his boyish grin and the fact that the girls at school are right; he is handsome.

“Suguru!” he exclaims in a greeting once he comes to a stop in front of you two, and Geto nods at his friend. He turns to you next, looking down at you over the rims of his darkened sunglasses, and the smirk on his lips gives you butterflies. And, maybe, you’re a little awestruck because he really is pretty and those eyes of his are unnerving, but you don’t particularly care and—

And then Gojo Satoru opens his mouth and the bubble bursts.

“Ha! He said that?!” Itadori crows, and he throws his head back in unabashed laughter and grasps at his chest.

You giggle along with him. “He certainly did, but luckily,” and you pause to lift your left hand and wiggle your ring finger so the metal on it gleams, “things worked out just fine.”

Slowly, both of your laughter disappears and you each look in different directions around the room to fill the silence. The clock next to your door says it’s nearly seven, and the grumbling in your stomach has you considering leaving Satoru to fend for himself in favor of finding yourself a meal. However, Itadori doesn’t make a move to get up, so you let go of your hopes for takeout and shake your computer awake with your mouse before typing away again at your nearly complete report. You’re happy to let the boy sit in companionable quiet if that’s what he needs.

“That was a nice story,” Itadori says a few minutes later, and you are so intently focused on your work that you’re startled into remembering that he is there. “Thank you for telling it to me.”

His hands slap against his knees and he springs up from the sofa, and you’re stunned by his abrupt departure. He’s nearly out the door when you finally find your tongue, and the firm way you say his name has him stopping in his tracks. You wait to see if he would respond, but when he doesn’t, you repeat his name a bit more gently this time.

“What is it?” you coax, and when he turns, his facade of unbotheredness falls, and his face is tired in its place. The sight breaks your heart a little.

“I don’t mean to waste your time,” he says regrettably and wrings his hands together. You shake your head to reassure him as his shoulders fall dejectedly. “He wanted to see you, is all.”

The meaning of his words don’t strike you right away, and Itadori raises a hand to tap at his temple. Understanding hits you like a truck when you realize he’s referring to Sukuna, and your mouth falls open.

“Sukuna was really adamant about it for the last couple hours. He’s finally quiet now,” he adds, “so I guess…”

Itadori trails off with a nonchalant shrug, and you find it entirely too casual for what he just said, but he seems unrattled by the request from the being inside of him.

“Oh,” you breathe out, stupefied and way too tired to formulate a sensible response or thought. “Well, uh…okay?”

The laugh that makes its way out of your mouth is a touch disbelieving and maybe a little unhinged, but it pulls a bigger smile out of Itadori, and he uses a hand to gesture vaguely over his shoulder as he begins to take a couple steps backwards towards the door.

“I’m going to go find Fushiguro and Kugisaki,” he tells you. “I’ll see you and Gojo-sensei next week!”

Now that you can see the tension has left his body and he appears lighter in mind and spirit, you’re content to return Itadori’s wave of goodbye as he hurries out the door. Once you hear his footsteps fade down the hall, you slump back in your chair and throw an arm over your eyes.

The King of Curses had wanted to see you, even if only through the eyes of his vessel, so much so that it seems he was willing to pester him into doing his bidding until Itdaori finally relented.

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A/N: Chapter count got upped by one, but it should still all come out in a timely manner. We'll get a part 2 to the Reader/Gojo flashback in the next chapter :)

Taglist (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen

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dragoneyes613 · 5 months ago

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In December, I had the honor of attending and addressing the Limmud Conference in Birmingham, England. Over 1,700 Jews of all types and levels of observance, assembled as they do each year, in a conference center in order to study Judaism. Every hour slot has ten to fifteen different speaker options and you can join the discussion on anything from Jewish law, history and philosophy to Jewish art, literature, food, and comedy. Beyond my own five sessions, I had the opportunity to listen to many other fascinating speakers, but one session I enjoyed tremendously was that of an organization that calls itself “Rabbis for Human Rights.”

The session was attended by some fifty people and appealed to the more “Anti-Zionist” Jews at the conference. In previous years it would have attracted hundreds of attendees, but in the aftermath of October 7 thankfully the number of Jews prepared to “bash” Israel has been severely depleted.

The Rabbi for Human Rights presented his case: Israel was being torn apart by violent settlers in the “Occupied” West Bank. With an “extreme” right-wing government, where all the power is in the hands of Smotrich and Ben Gvir, the State of Israel will not last long. The solution? An immediate ceasefire and a two-state solution with our Palestinian neighbors.

After his twenty-minute monologue, I raised my hand and stood to address him and the room. I began:

“Firstly, may I congratulate you on your masterful analysis of the situation in Israel today. May I also suggest that you and I have a lot in common:

“You are a rabbi and I am a rabbi.

“You believe in human rights and I believe in human rights.

“You are a settler in the Occupied West Bank, and I am a settler in the Occupied West Bank.”

That last comparison made him uncomfortable. Didn’t I know that he lives in Tel Aviv – in “Israel proper?”

“Let me explain. Our enemies have made it very clear to the world since October 7 that they believe Palestine should extend ‘From the river to the sea.’ In fact, they attacked the Gaza Envelope, not Judea and Samaria. In other words, they consider every Jew who lives west of the Jordan River to be a settler, and all of our land is ‘occupied.’ So, we are both, at least in the minds of our enemies, settlers in the Occupied West Bank.”

I continued. “But there is one difference between you and me. You are a pessimist and I am a realist. You see the cup as half empty, and I have tremendous hope for the future. Our brave soldiers have performed miracles over the past year and a half, obliterating Hezbollah and Syria and crippling Hamas. In a few weeks’ time, Please G-d, we will see an Israeli attack on the Iranian nuclear program and hopefully the downfall of that regime. We have never been closer to shalom in the Middle East and the liberation of two hundred million Arabs, who currently live under tyrannical regimes that spend all their resources on weapons rather than healthcare and education. I have never been more hopeful for an improvement in human rights for our Arab neighbors who currently score amongst the lowest in the world on that index. I have never been more hopeful for shalom – long-lasting peace – with our neighbors.” With that I sat down.

Unexpectedly, around one third of the people in the room burst into spontaneous applause. Perhaps another third would have liked to but were too embarrassed to show their approval. I was happy to see that, at least in some debating chambers in the UK, people are still willing to listen to the other side.

So why do our enemies hate us? Why does Iran spend most of its budget building weapons to exterminate us, when we live over 2,000 kilometers from their border? Why do the most evil nations also have the worst human rights records in the treatment of their own people.

In this week’s parsha, Shemot, we are first introduced to the new Pharaoh. Very soon he is telling the Egyptian people (Shemot 1:9-10), “Look! The Israelite people are becoming more numerous and stronger than us. Let us deal cleverly with them lest they increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies.”

The new Pharaoh is not a caring leader. The previous Pharaoh, the one that appointed Joseph as his prime minister, was quite willing to impoverish his whole nation and nationalize all their land, and the Torah portrays him as a tzaddik compared to his successor. Some of the Egyptian people must still have remembered the “good old days” when Mum and Dad owned the farm and life was easier. There must have been some level of national unrest with this new dictator.

So, if this new Pharaoh has an image problem with his own people, why would he not focus on building schools and hospitals in Rameses, rather than extravagant pyramids for his family? Why would he not invest in infrastructure like canals to enable better irrigation? Or papyrus factories to get more school books published?

The Torah answers this for us. He is ultimately interested in filling his own pockets and doesn’t give a hoot about his people. However, in order to keep them oppressed and prevent an uprising, he creates a scapegoat. If he can scare the people about the dangers from those “crafty Jews,” he can distract them from their own suffering. Not only can he justify enslaving the people whose leader, Joseph, just collected the Nobel Prize for food security, but he can also keep his Egyptian nationals under control.

This has been a template for Arab dictators since the Exodus story: blame the Jews and keep your own people in abject poverty.

Having read this story every year for 3,500 years, the Jewish people have just woken up to the fact that we don’t need to stay in this loop forever. The current war has shown Israel to be far stronger than anyone imagined, including, and especially, ourselves. We no longer have to put up with Arab dictators spending their whole budget (and that of the UN and their Arab oil sponsors) on weapons of mass destruction against us.

As a rabbi for Human Rights, my wish is for the Pharaohs of the New Middle East to focus their funds on helping their own people climb out of poverty through education and technology. May we soon see them melting their missiles into ploughshares and their rocket launchers into desalination plants. May one Arab nation no longer lift swords against any non-Arab nation. Instead of learning war, may they learn respect for women’s rights and education, freedom of the press and tolerance of other religions. And may this happen before they totally destroy themselves. Amen.

#israel #jumblr #frumblr #antisemitism #hamas

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showmethesneer · 3 years ago

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What pissed me off so much about We'll Always Have Summer--

and not just because i was already a Jeremiah stan since the first book-- is that Belly repeatedly said she was choosing Jeremiah. She was coming to the decision that Jeremiah was who she wanted to move forward with. She made that decision over and over. She said it.

"Conrad has my past but Jeremiah has my present and my future."

"I chose to walk away from Conrad. I chose the boy who would never walk away from me."

Like over and over she makes this decision. And she still ends up with Conrad anyway. It's not like this book was a love triangle (i hate those anyway) where she was torn between two men and didn't know what to do; she kept choosing Jeremiah every time and there were moments where Conrad was agreeing to that decision too. The whole book was Conrad and Belly letting go of each other until the last part and i just.. hate that.

I think with To All The Boys, the conflict between choosing Peter and choosing John Ambrose was very much about how you don't have a choice in who you love. If you just can't help being in love with someone, the better and frankly perfect other option being put right in front of you can't change that. So Lara Jean chose Peter because she couldn't not choose Peter.

But with this... Belly made a very mature assessment that Conrad would always have a piece of her heart but that didn't mean she should be with him. And then she repeatedly chose Jeremiah. Until the very end when he couldn't accept that her reality was she couldn't evict Conrad from her heart entirely as she said she had-- because you literally can't do that-- but she wanted to build her life with Jeremiah.

And that killed me. Because it's like even when you make a clear and conscious choice, even when you make it repeatedly, it doesn't matter.

I hated the time jump between the 2nd and 3rd book. I hated not getting more of Belly and Jeremiah's relationship before the big fight and sudden proposal. I hated that this book cheated me out of my favourite ship by having it be all about them planning a rushed and ill-advised wedding. But most of all i hated how no matter how many times Belly chose Jeremiah, she still fucking ended up with Conrad. Worst possible follow up to the amazing 2nd book in my opinion.

And i hated when Conrad said "he's marrying my girl" when he dated Belly for 6 months and made her feel horrible about it, whereas Jeremiah was her best friend and dated her for 2 YEARS. She's nobody's girl. She's her own girl. But if anybody should be marrying her, I'm leaning towards the one she had a longer and more satisfying relationship with.

And I'm not forgiving Jeremiah for sleeping with someone else when they were broken up and never telling her about it. I don't support his sudden marriage proposal while they were fighting. I don't like that he couldn't accept that Belly would always have feelings for Conrad and was still choosing him.

But i also just don't like the plot of this book altogether. So I'm not even holding those things against my boy, I'm holding everything against the book itself. I think Jeremiah's love for Belly was portrayed better throughout the trilogy. Both as a character expressing himself and from a writing standpoint. And i think it's best summed up in a line Conrad himself says about him, "He's not a serious guy but believe me, he's serious about her."

#this is a shamelessly pro jeremiah fisher rant #this is a shamelessly anti We'll Always Have Summer rant #jeremiah fisher #conrad fisher #belly conklin #long post #the summer i turned pretty #we'll always have summer

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animeomegas · 4 years ago

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So... another hc for little Sasuke (sorry this one became too specific, you can change it however you'd like to :)

After a rather harsh session (just cuz Itachi wanted to give that a try ) he kinda can't walk without his knees giving out the other day and while his alpha was making breakfast in bed for him and Sasuke wanted some help with his homework(or just wanted to spend time with his brother) while alpha was finally out of the room. And while Sasuke enters the room Itachi was trying to get out of the bed to check out where his alpha was, Sasuke just witnessing him collapsing and with that panic(thinking his alpha broke his big bro's legs) rushes to call mednins. And Sasuke known as a rather smart kid so mednins thinks the worst case scenarios and rushes to the house with him.

Just imagine the awkwardness when adult parties figure out what was the reason of all the panic.

(Ahh, this is the best thing ever, I love it so much, thanks for sending it in! I changed a few little bits, but I hope you still like it!)

Okay, so, Sasuke has been… annoyingly good at playing cockblock over the past month, and Itachi and his mate are a little…pent up.

But last night, Sasuke was with his team doing an overnight training exercise, and Itachi’s parents were attending a social dinner that ran late into the night.

And… well, Itachi and his mate certainly took advantage of the empty house. And all the pent up energy made both parties… kind of feral. It was a lot rougher than normal, let’s just say that.

In the morning, Itachi is predictably very sore, and his alpha offers to make breakfast in bed for them both so that Itachi can relax and recover at his own pace. Neither have anything to do today, so they could even spend the whole day in bed. (As long as Sasuke was too tired from his trip to protest violently, of course.)

So, Itachi’s alpha is downstairs whipping up some food, but Itachi’s glasses are all the way over on the dresser… And he can’t read the book he wants to read. Well, they’re only a few metres away, Itachi should be able to grab them just fine.

Itachi scoots to the edge of the bed and then pushes himself to his feet, just in time for Sasuke to come barrelling into the room with no warning.

…

“Ugh,” Itachi grunts, legs giving out as he collapses onto the ground.

Sasuke, having come in just fast enough to see it happen, gasps and runs forward towards Itachi as fast as possible. His brother is hurt! Wait… Where is his alpha? They…They hurt him, didn’t they?!?! Did they break his legs?!

“Brother! I told you this would happen!” Sasuke shouts, already on the verge of tears because he wasn’t there to protect his older brother. “Mother! Father! Come quick, Itachi’s hurt!!”

“Sasuke! Quiet!” Itachi hisses, very aware that he’s currently half collapsed on the floor, only wearing a long T-shirt. “I’m fine, get out of my room and don’t barge in without knocking!”

“But-But-“ Sasuke blubbers, stepping closer. “But they hurt you! You have bruises everywhere! How can you defend them like this! You’re not fine!”

Itachi blushes a bright, humiliated red as Sasuke points out all the ah… marks… on his skin. He starts trying to climb back onto the bed, holding down the shirt to preserve what’s left of his modesty.

And then things go from bad to worse.

His parents’ footsteps come racing down the hall. Sasuke must have woken them up with his screaming.

Itachi thinks that death might be the best option right now.

“Mother! Father! That evil person! I told you! They hurt Itachi!” Sasuke cries, latching himself onto his mother’s dressing gown. “He can’t walk and he’s covered in bruises.”

Itachi can do nothing but watch as both their gazes scan him from head to toe. The ‘bruises’, the fact he can’t walk, the state of undress, the fact that the house was empty last night… They’re not stupid. He can see that they’ve figured it out. Itachi can’t think of a more humiliating situation than this.

His mother looks torn between amused and horrified, and his father looks like he’s seen a ghost and is about to faint any moment. All Itachi can do is avoid their eyes and hold his T-shirt down as far as he can between his legs.

The awkward silence is broken by the arrival of his alpha.

“Hey, what’s going on up here?” their voice cuts through Itachi’s wishes for death and brings him back to the present. “Itachi?”

He watches them enter the room, breakfast tray in hand and survey the situation. They quickly slide the tray onto their side of the bed and hurry over to Itachi, slipping off their dressing gown as they go and draping it over him so cover him.

Itachi doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to see a dressing gown, and he slips it on as fast as he can.

“Don’t touch him!” Sasuke’s voice interrupts them. “I’ll never let you touch my brother again!”

Sasuke immediately launches into an attack against Itachi’s alpha. Thankfully, there’s no way his alpha would lose to a newly minted genin, and they easily manage to defend themselves without hurting him.

“Sasuke! Stop it!” Itachi orders, finally finding his voice. “They didn’t do anything wrong, you’re being ridiculous!”

“No!” Sasuke argues, still kicking at Itachi’s alpha. “Iruka sensei said that, even if you’re in a relationship with someone, they aren’t allowed to hurt you because it’s still illegal!”

“I promise I didn’t hurt your brother, Sasuke, please calm down,” they try to diffuse the situation.

“No! I-“

“Enough!” Fugaku roars, clamping a hand down on Sasuke’s arm. Some colour had returned to his face by this point, but he still pointedly avoids looking in Itachi’s direction. “No fighting in the house. Go to your room and stop bothering your brother.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Fugaku pulls Sasuke out of the door despite his fighting. “And you two," he turns his attention on to Itachi and his alpha when Sasuke has been successfully removed from the room. “If he starts asking questions, you will be the one to explain it to him.”

He leaves, and Mikoto follows behind him, shutting the door, but not before shooting Itachi a wink.

This is the worst day of his life.

The door slams shut and there’s silence again.

Itachi’s alpha gingerly lifts Itachi off of the floor and back onto the bed now that the spectators had left.

“Do you think if you hit me very hard, I’ll forget this ever happened?” Itachi asks, burying his glowing red face in his hands.

“If I hit you that hard, Sasuke would have a point, and we can’t let that happen,” Itachi’s alpha replies mildly, slipping into bed beside their mate.

“I feel so humiliated,” Itachi whispers, moving his face from his hands and burying it in his alpha’s shoulder instead.

“I know,” his alpha whispers, face pulling into a small frown. “But it’s okay, we didn’t do anything wrong. Your father has been asking for grandchildren lately, so he has no room to complain, and your mother didn’t seem to mind.”

“That’s worse,” Itachi groans. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay,” they agree, stroking his hair idly. “Have something to eat, you’ll feel better.”

#itachi x reader #omega!itachi #young!sasuke #naruto #headcanons #mikoto #fugaku #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega itachi #alpha!reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #alpha x omega

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merakiui · 5 years ago

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Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare.

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self.

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise.

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much.

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role.

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons.

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier.

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future.

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage.

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease.

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya.

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win?

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.”

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life.

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits.

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave.

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed.

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair.

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore.

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact ajax #yandere genshin impact ajax #ajax x reader #yandere ajax x reader

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babydaddyleorio · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get a Angst oneshot of cherry number 5 and Gender Neutral reader please if you want or can.

(I hope I did this request thing right)

Have a good day or night stay safe and happy pride month!

Happy pride!

Cherry had done everything in his power to cover his tracks so that nothing could ever be traced back to him.

He had made sure to shield his body in an all black cloak with a mask across his face as he snuck off the palace's grounds, he had given himself an alias whenever he chose to skate since It was forbidden for royals to do so, and he even met with his lover in the most discreet places that no one should have been able to find. He had done everything imaginable to ensure that nothing could ever tarnish his name, and yet somehow, all of his efforts were now seemingly futile.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Cherry scowled deeply as his eyes fell on the bothersome man in front of him, trying his best to maintain his composure and awareness. The man in question was no other than his right hand and he had so rudely barged into his office, demanding Cherry’s attention to discuss an important matter that just couldn’t seem to wait. Ainosuke Shindo, Adam for short, stood beside the chair opposite of Cherry with a grin that can only be defined as devious adorning his lips.

“There have been rumors circulating amongst the servants, rumors of the Lord escaping the palace late in the night.” Adam tauntingly paced around the office with his hands clasped behind his back and Cherry’s eyes vehemently trailed him as his accusing words began to register. “They say you’ve been sneaking off to duel commoners in skating tournaments, knowing full well that the practice is strictly forbidden.”

Adam paused his movements and sharply turned himself to face Cherry. He slowly lowered his body down to grip the edge of the desk dividing him and Cherry, a grimace now present on his face.

“Does any of this ring a bell to you, your Highness?” Adam asked forcefully and Cherry simply reached over to grab his fine china, calmly taking a sip of his Chamomile tea before answering the arrogant man towering him.

“No, I am afraid that does not ring a bell.” Cherry answered while blankly staring and Adam laughed dryly under his breath at his obvious lie.

“Is that so?” Adam retorted before taking out a manila folder and dumping the contents of it all across the desk’s surface. Cherry remained unscathed as the laminated documents fell before him and he slowly glanced over them, squinting his eyes once he realized they were all pictures.

Pictures of him to be exact.

“These photos here tell a different story, Lord Cherry.”

“What is it that you exactly wish to gain by doing this?” Cherry asked, his voice becoming slightly annoyed as he pushed the pictures of him participating in the local tournaments away from his view.

“End your acquaintance with Y/n.” Adam declared while leaning closer to his Lord, but Cherry only narrowed his eyes in response.

‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about.’ Cherry thought to himself as he took note of Adam’s request.

Adam had never liked that you and Cherry were having romantic relations with each other and he so desperately wished to end the entanglement as soon as the secret relationship sprouted. Adam viewed you as mere filth and didn’t believe you had a worthy enough status to ever be seen with the likes of Cherry. Adam gritted his teeth just thinking about you being together, partially because he knew Cherry could have better and partially because that spot you had in Cherry’s heart should have been his.

“You must have lost your head, Adam.” Cherry glowered menacingly and leaned himself closer as well, so close that there were just mere inches between the two. “Mind your place.”

“End it, Cherry.” Adam demanded coldly, losing all the formalness he had prior to this moment.

“And if I don't?” Cherry challenged with a raised eyebrow, frowning deeply as he continued to stare down Adam.

“Then I will have no other choice than to leak these photos and ruin your entire career.” Adam spat with his fingers gripping the wood so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Cherry closed his eyes at the unfavorable situation he had found himself in. He could have continued to protest against the incriminating evidence, but Adam did unfortunately have the upper hand right now. Cherry sighed loudly before slowly glancing back up to the fickle man awaiting his response.

“Very well.”

“Really?” Adam blurted incredulously, shocked that Cherry actually agreed to his terms.

“Yes, I will end my relations with them.” Cherry affirmed, although the weight of those words left a bitter taste lingering along his tongue.

“Excellent.” Adam exclaimed before turning on his heel to leave triumphantly but not before gathering the photos up and taking them with him.

Once Adam was completely gone, Cherry loudly banged his fist against the table, causing the warm tea to spill across his desk. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he considered the stakes at hand and wanted nothing more to strangle Adam for even pulling a stunt like this. Cherry was torn between protecting his current position of power or choosing the love of his life and it seemed like the former was gradually becoming his only option.

“Carla, send me a carriage.” Cherry hastily commanded into the air before pushing out of his seat and storming out the door.

“Y/n, open up. It’s me.”

Cherry waited a few seconds before hearing your feet shuffle against the floor and multiple locks turn in unison.

When you finally opened the door he saw that you were all dressed and there was a suitcase standing behind you. Cherry raised an eyebrow in question and wondered where you could be going at such a late hour.

“Going somewhere?” He asked curiously while taking note of how stiff you looked standing in the door frame.

“Yes.” You responded curtly, voice more distant than usual.

“Where to?” Cherry tried to pry further, now even more confused that his suspicions were correct.

“Away.”

Cherry’s lips frowned at how dismissive you were being and he tried to step closer into your home, but you blocked him before he could get the chance.

“Cherry, I think It is time we end this.” You blurted out loud and Cherry froze in his spot once he heard those words leave your mouth.

Wasn’t that his line? He thought to himself as he saw the indifferent expression blanketing your face. Cherry wasn’t going to go through with Adam’s demands and he had actually come here to make It clear that you would always come first, although now that you’ve said you wanted to depart, he wasn’t sure If his plan still was in motion.

“For what reason?” Cherry asked insultingly and you avoided eye contact with him before continuing.

“It is for the best.” You whispered and Cherry got in your face, latching his fingers onto your chin so you could look into his furious eyes.

“Like hell It is.” He swore, glowering down at you. “What has caused this sudden change?”

“Dammit, Cherry! We just aren’t meant to be together!” You shouted and to Cherry’s ears It sounded as If you were trying to convince yourself of that statement as well. Once you realized your emotions were beginning to get the best of you, you took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tight feeling growing inside of your throat.

“I got sent a letter.”

“A letter?” Cherry questioned in confusion, wondering why that mattered now.

“Yes, and It stated that I have 24 hours to evacuate the premises before drastic measures would be put in place.” You confessed and Cherry raised his eyebrows in surprise before anger gradually consumed his being.

“On what grounds? Where is it, let me see!” Cherry demanded and tried to move past you but you blocked him from entering again.

“They had pictures in there as well.” You hissed while furrowing your eyebrows deeply. “Pictures of us together.”

Cherry felt himself begin to see red, seething at what was happening to you and him.

“So what? That’s just it now?” He voiced bitterly and you started to laugh at his questions, not realizing that tears had begun sliding down your cheeks.

“Yes, this is the last straw! I am sick of going through this, Cherry.” You exclaimed with a frown before turning your head so your eyes were no longer on him. “It’s best that you leave now.”

“I refuse to leave until we sort all of this out.” Cherry protested, moving his hands to try to wipe your cheeks but you swatted them away just before he could touch you. Cherry angrily clenched his fists and flared his nostrils before moving himself into your face.

“Didn’t we get in this relationship knowing that they wouldn’t approve of us? So why now, why are you so scared now?” Cherry was fuming as he shouted those words at you and you flinched once you heard how strangled his voice was becoming.

“It is different now, since when did you not care about your career as being our Lord? If word got out we were meeting, It would stain your image and legacy as well as have you seen as a dishonor. Are you really willing to risk throwing it all away for a mere relationship?” You challenged although the tears that were still falling steadily from your eyes betrayed how you were trying to come across.

You swallowed thickly before moving your eyes to Cherry’s face, staring at him solemnly through your blurry vision.

“Is our love really worth that much to you because it doesn't mean shit to me anymore.” You yelled and Cherry abruptly moved back at your outburst, too speechless to say anything in return.

You shut your eyes and squeezed them tightly before stepping back into your home.

“Goodbye.” You mumbled and slammed the door in Cherry’s face. Cherry stood on your porch with a far away look grazing his face and stayed motionless in his spot with his gaze never leaving your door. Cherry didn’t remember how long he stood there in the cold night, but he did remember the sudden feeling of his lips quivering as he felt his heart being broken into a million pieces.

When Cherry finally stormed back into the castle, he furiously and desperately looked for Adam. And when he finally saw him, he rushed to the man and roughly grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer so that they were face to face.

“What did you do, dammit!” Cherry yelled with tears building up in his eyes, his hands shaking drastically since your distraught face stayed ingrained in his mind. Cherry was a mess without you, he already missed your comforting voice and the beautiful smile that you wore whenever he held you close to him. Cherry’s cheeks suddenly rose as his mouth slowly parted and tears poured from his eyes at the thought of never getting the chance to have that again.

Adam looked down at Cherry since he still had him in grasp, and he couldn’t help the smirk that fell on his face as he realized that he had won. Adam listened closely as the grandfather clock on the wall rang loudly to signal a new day, a day where you were no longer in the picture.

“I just made sure you stayed true to your word, my Lord.”

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity cherry #sk8 cherry #cherry sk8 #cherry #cherry blossom #cherry x reader #sk8 cherry x reader #cherry blossom x reader #cherry imagines #cherry angst #cherry blossom angst #sk8 angst

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years ago

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Forgive and forget what happened in another time (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: After the incident with the Doctor, Daisy and Jemma see how much it hurt you and do what they can to help, but there is only one person who can really help. Fitz

Leopold Fitz, that name used to make you feel safe, happy, protected. A name of a brother figure, of a best friend.

Now, it was a name of danger, of hurt, of caution; of someone who once meant the world to you, but now a complicated thing. That was the what the name brought now.

Your hand went to the wound he had caused you, a bullet wound; the scar being patched up by Jemma, who had been doing all she could for you.

“Knock knock.” You heard Daisy said a your door swished open, there was no knock that was a lie, only the words and swoosh of the door to alert you of her presence in your room.

You quickly put the shirt down, covering the scar, but you saw her eye go to where it would be on your front (your back was to her, you had turned your head to look at you, even then you only saw her from the corner of your eye) and her smile was sympathetic.

She had her scar too, running her hand along the back of her neck.

“Hey.” You greeted, trying to sound like you both thinking about the same thing.

“Hey.” She parroted back, trying to do the same thing.

You cleared your throat, fully turning to your friend and crossing your arms, “So, what’s up?” You asked.

She suddenly remembered why she was here, “We’re gonna be landing soon, gonna need you there with me.” She said, giving you a smile, one you mirrored.

She hated this, seeing her sibling in pain like this; she hated that your brother figure hurt you both.

You had found where his ship was after interrogating one of the crew, all you had to do was get to it.

As you walked, with Daisy leading, Jemma grabbed you by the arm and held you back, “Y/N, if this is it, then --”

“Now’s not the time.” You said, trying to get her to release you so you could just end this journey.

“When is the time?” She pressed; you looked at her in the eyes, this journey had made her go to dark places, but she was still the caring soul you met all that time ago.

“Not now,” You said, removing the hand, “Besides, if it is him...then he’ll be with you, and Daisy can do the talking for me.”

You entered the part of the ship you needed through the ceiling, with Jemma leading the way. You found the pod, and you waited with baited breath. She looked to you and Daisy, two of her best friends in the whole world who had followed her out here for this one moment.

Her face dropped when she opened it...nothing was there, only some blood.

She stayed in the pod for a bit, breaking down. You, meanwhile, sat in the commons room, alone, and you allowed yourself to admit it.

You were happy that he wasn’t.

And part of you hated yourself for it.

“Y/N,” Jemma called out to you, you looked up to her, “I need you for something.”

That was a bit of a stretch, it was more of a team meeting, and something she had spotted on the pod, writing.

In a language she knew apparently.

You and Daisy were trying to keep the rest of you guys in check, and at the same time get Simmons to see that you would not survive this trip.

She, however, saw it differently.

She, however, pulled the lever and sent you deeper into space, chasing after a translation.

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Jemma knew, she knew that you were pissed by that option; and as much as she defended it, she saw the toll all this was taking on you.

But, this was her husband, she wasn’t going to just leave him stranded, even if the chance of finding him was small.

“Y/N --” She said, having a moment alone with you before they went to the city of Kitson, a place apparently only the worst people would go.

“Don’t.” You were firm with your words, and she could detect the bite.

“Y/N, please --” Again, she couldn’t finish.

“You had no right!”

“I have to find him, Y/N. You would do the same if it was Daisy, me, or anyone else.” She couldn’t stop the words, her goal of finding her husband stopping her from seeing the consequences of her words.

Those consequences came when your eyes widened, almost at the audacity of the words said, before you let out a humourless chuckle, “‘Anyone else’ hasn’t shot me while I’ve tried to free my sister from his split. I get it, not fully in his control, his trauma too, but what about mine, Jemma? You expect me to just move on from it? Sure, Daisy’s done better, but --”

“You don’t need to compare yourself to her, Y/N. You’re making your own progress, I promise…” She was torn, and you could tell.

“Whatever, let’s just go, ok?” She could tell things were a bit icey between you both, but she knew that you both still cared for each other, even during this time.

You went to Kitson, yourself and the two girls getting high as a kite in your search, “Co-come on, Y/N...We need to find our british friend.” Daisy said, holding onto your hand and bringing you through the crowds. You had no idea where Jemma had gone, part of your brain wondering if she was real…

If what Fitz had done was real.

She was, as you found out, being brought onto the floor in a crawl as you went under the table to find some solace from the people.

You observed the surroundings, eyes wide as you blinked a few times, but you swore you saw a man in a suit, a beard and an emotionless expression on his face staring at you a few times in the crowd, but each time you just shook your head and he was gone.

A blaring ‘dolphin’ noise brought the three of you out, it was a signal. But Chronicoms were on your tail, so you both looked to Jemma, assuring her that - despite your states - you could handle them. Jemma looked to you and smiled, glad you still had her back.

She went, and you and your sister got to work, Daisy spinning on the table and you throwing glasses at the trained opponents. It was funny, how you both almost reverted to how you were before all this - you throwing glasses in a bar fight - and her distracting herself during a conflict and having fun with it.

With that cleared up, Jemma had news for you.

“He’s alive.” She told you, and she knew where to go.

Your search led you to a Chromicom ship, or rather the ship. But, you saw him for the first time --

Not the doctor who had hurt you and your sister --

Not the man who had a split and lost for a moment to his demons --

But your best friend, your brother. Jemma’s husband --

Leopold Fitz.

Daisy was all but ready to make do on her threat of Fitz being hurt again, she’d tear the ship apart. She knew this wasn’t the Fitz that had hurt her, had hurt you.

You were willing to do a lot of things to get him back, but forgiving him would be another thing.

You had tried a runner, only for you to find yourself surrounded; you and Daisy were more than ready to fight --

But Jemma stopped you; you couldn’t quite focus on her words, your heart racing as you saw the tears in Daisy’s and Jemma’s eyes.

This was a goodbye between you three siblings.

Jemma then looked to you, shaky smile on her lips, “Y/N --” She wanted to say something, anything to help make this better. But she couldn’t think of anything.

Her youngest sibling was hurting, just as much as her other younger sister.

You brought her into a hug, one she returned, no other words were spoken; you both just hugged.

Then she was gone, and you were going home with a member gone, maybe forever.

As you went home, Daisy found you in your room, she sat next to you, not saying anything but she knew her presence would help.

Hell, it had helped her, she knew how you both worked. You were her best friend since birth, brought up together in the orphanage. Now, you were more hurt than you were before.

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Still, you went back to earth, the ever present image of Jemma Simmon walking away, to whatever her fate held, was etched into your mind.

You felt Daisy’s gaze on you every so often as you got closer to home. Still, no words were spoken, just the gaze of, not concern, just care. Was she worried? Yeah, but she knew displaying that to you would only make you go further into your hole you had dug for yourself.

Still, you disembarked and found yourself now in a new situation, a new trauma; Phil Coulson had returned...sort of.

It was him in the physical form, just not the...mental form? Still, it threw yourself and Daisy, just how seeing Fitz (the older version you cared for dearly) threw you earlier.

You and Daisy walked away, trying to ignore what you had just seen. It didn’t, however, work that way.

You instead ended up on the man’s (Sarge) truck, going to stop someone known as Izel, you didn’t care who she was, just that she was a threat to your family.

So, on board you went.

He pulled you up to the front, Daisy giving you a pat on the shoulder for encouragement as you went; you gave her a smile before entering.

“So, smiley tells me you went off to space.” He said, wasting no time it seemed.

You nodded, “Had a little trip, sure.”

“What for?”

“It wasn’t for you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He scoffed, “Trust me, I might have an ego, but not that high of one. What were you really looking for?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Snow’s...difficult, but I’ve known her long enough to know when she needs to talk.”

“You offering me a shoulder?”

“A cold one. But you seem to be more open than your sister. All she wanted to talk about was me.”

“She’s always been inquisitive.”

“And you're sensitive.”

“Was.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Wow, he was not stopping.

“I will when you do.” He smirked.

And he did, just to spite you it seemed; he opened up about Izel and his past; how his planet was destroyed and how revenge and hate drove him.

He lied at one point, saying it was love, but he quickly said it was the hate that drove him instead.

Love drove you, you knew that, but also fear. Fear of who Fitz would be.

Sarge looked at you, eyes almost daring you to open up; Daisy caught the look, quickly brining the attention back to her and away from you. She hated it, the look in his eyes, the amusement he got from causing you that discomfort.

Then he was gone, he was out and you were barreling for a tower filled with Shrike (little bat things) that would infect everyone.

Sarge was gone, and you were going to slam into the tower with a nuke.

Deke did what he could to try and defuse it, but was unsuccessful.

Daisy looked to you, seeing you only staring at the bomb that would now surely take your life; you looked devastated. Her eyes softened as she took one of your hands in her own, she gave it a squeeze, a silent “I love you.”

Then it all went black…

Only, you woke up. You woke up to Daisy over the bomb with her powers making it go back into the bomb.

She took care of the shrike too, vaporizing them as they entered.

Then...then he entered. Leopold Fitz…

It was different seeing him in person, actually seeing him.

Deke had hugged him.

Daisy smiled, as did May.

You did, a small amount; he looked like his innocent self, not the beared man who had hurt him.

But he was still there...always there deep down.

You had a party, and he smiled at you; you lifted your bottle up, but your smile wasn’t as full as it used to be.

You left early.

Then you were forced to work together, looking into what made Sarge...well, Sarge, as Daisy spoke to him.

She let it all out, the vitreal, the anger at this situation. Fitz chanced a look to you, seeing how you kept your distance, didn’t look at him.

“Y/N...are you ok?” He asked; Jemma even paused what she was doing to look over at you in concern.

You gulped, just hearing his voice made you go back mentally, “...Yeah, fine.” You said, trying to hang tough.

His hand hit your shoulder, and you flinched away, slapping the hand away. He ignored the pain, he just kept his hands up and took a step back.

“...I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” You said, walking away, ignoring Jemma saying your name softly as you left.

You went back to your retreat. You felt the place shake, but you just hid yourself more. You couldn’t do this, your hand went to your wound as you felt the burning from it when you were shot. You heard the broken of “NO!” From both Daisy and Jemma. You --

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a soft one and yet you still cried out at it. The hand stayed, however, and you felt yourself be pulled into a hug.

“I got you, Y/N...I got you.” It was Daisy, and you felt her tears hit you on the top of your head as you sobbed.

You stayed like that for a bit, with you just sobbing into her as you took yourself back to what would have been your death had...had Jemma not acted so quickly.

Jemma, the woman who had been by your side this whole time, along with Daisy of course. But Jemma never forced you into anything about the topic, she respected your boundaries.

“Is...is he?” You started to ask before you hiccuped.

“He wanted to wait...but he understands if you don’t --”

“No, no I wanna see him...It...I can’t just ignore him forever.” You said, Daisy still holding you close.

“Ok...ok.” She said, kissing you on your head before helping you up and bring you to the door.

She opened it, and you smiled at your brother. Not the doctor. But Leopold Fitz, the man who hadn’t lost to his demons.

And he smiled back softly.

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Daisy gave you a hug before departing on her mission, and that left you with Fitzsimmons. Jemma stood on one side, Fitz on the other.

You stood as a united trio as you watched the mission occur.

“Y/N, I...I’m sorry.” You let him finish this time.

This time, you also looked at him, “It -- it wasn’t you.”

“...I know. But, I still did it.” He said, not wanting to let himself of the hook.

You nodded sadly, “We fixed the timeline...We saved you, we’re all back together now...I’m sure we’ll get there with us, anyway.”

He smiled, he knew you would, and he hoped dearly that he would.

Jemma smiled, glad you were starting to heal.

Now though, without knowing, it would be a while before you would see your friends again fully...

#daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #jemma simmons imagine #jemma simmons x reader #agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #leopold fitz imagine

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jamesholden · 5 years ago

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I just wanna rant about Naomi for a bit ok i wanna talk about Naomi.

Dom always talks about how Naomi is torn between two worlds, much like Dom is being a mixed race Black woman facing a world that questions where she belongs. Naomi makes herself a home, makes herself an identity based on her past and her present and her passions and her care and her love. She is a character who forges her own identity because she’s torn between those she has and it’s just.... ugh it’s such a beautiful and sad and ugly and fascinating journey to watch.

I’ll start in S3. Naomi left the Rocinante because she started to see pieces of her past that she was trying to leave behind. She left because she’d done something for the Belt, for her people, and wanted to keep doing things for them because her son was out there among them. Until the pieces of her past began to creep up on her on the Behemoth, too. She left the Behemoth, somewhere she had been happy for months, but where she likely faced scorn for being part of an Inner crew that didn’t always work “for the Belt”, to rejoin that crew, a mixed family, who encouraged her to be whoever she wanted to be after all they’ve been through. Not a Belter. Not an Inner. But Naomi, because that’s who she is to them. Naomi Nagata, part of their family. Not Naomi Nagata, Hero of the Belt.

Then there’s Ilus. She’d never go to Earth to live with Holden, and he wouldn’t ask her to. They live in space, in the Belt, her home. Anywhere they go she could face more of the same questions of her identity, the same insults to her choices and loves and family. So she wanted a place where they could live that could be their own. Not Earth, not the Belt, but theirs. She faced scorn for that, too. Naomi is someone who explores all options, and if one exists, she’ll try it. But that choice is ripped from her, too. She can’t survive in the gravity well, and her hopes of having a home of her own making with the family she loves are dashed. Her hopes of further forging her own identity are dashed. Even with the support and care and understanding of those she loves, it’s a painful reality and it still hurts to think about and see played out on screen. But she’s not loved because of where she lives, or can live. It’s barely a blip of drama or cause for concern to her partner. Because it’s always been her he loves, and not what she can give him, unlike some people she’s had in her life before they met.

And then there’s Marco and Filip. Tonight’s episode puts that final piece into place. She’d hinted at it in the past, with Holden and Drummer. Likening Holden to Marco. Telling Drummer she was afraid she wouldn’t let her go. Because she was once in love with a man who was a romantic, and idealist, a fighter, who used her and her work and her devotion to get what he wanted. To meet his goals. And when she realized what he did with her work, that he killed hundreds of people with her code, she tried to leave. And he hid her son from her in the hopes it would quiet her or bring her back into the fold. It didn’t. It drove her to an extreme that she realized wouldn't change anything. So she left. Left her life and her son behind because everyone in her life sided with Marco and helped hide her son from her. Eventually she took a dead end job on the Cant, where she met Amos, Holden, and Alex. And started her journey to find out who Naomi Nagata really is and what she stands for.

When I look at all the female characters we love, that we call “badass”, I see a few things in common. I see leaders, warriors, fighters, all. I see people loyal to their nations, their factions, their people as a whole. Avasarala, Bobbie, Drummer, they are all leaders, fighters, warriors who fight for their homes and their people. They’re ideals, characters we’ve longed to see more of in media for years. Naomi, too. Naomi is badass, always has been. But she’s badass in ways that people might not always consider under a “badass” banner. Badass in smaller ways.

She’s smart, thinks out of the box to solve problems and doesn’t let anyone get in her way when they try to stop her. She sticks to her principles, even telling off her loved ones when they push her too far or go too far out of her expectations themselves. She keeps the crew centered on a moral goal, reminds them to fight FOR the innocent, not against them. She saves as often than she’s saved, if not far more. She sees the things the people around her don’t, and says them when needed. She fights tooth and nail for her family, and will risk her own life to save them. She doesn’t fight for a nation, but she fights for her people, her family of four. She jumps into hard vacuum without any protective gear on to get to a ship meant to be a trap for her partner, to try and stop it. Because her family was taken from her once, Marco took her family from her once, and she won’t let it happen again.

Naomi doesn’t fight for a cause, she had to make difficult, unthinkable choices, she’s helped kill people, she left people she loves for walking paths she can’t, she’s hurt people she loves to help people she left behind, she does things we don’t agree with. But to me that makes her beautiful. She has so many layers and facets and her arc is so clear and defined and her past is what points her that way. She’s badass and complex and absolutely, I think, the most interesting and my favorite character in the series outside of my hyperfixation attachment. I love her. I’ve told Dom this before. She really is my MVP of the series as of S5 and Book 8.

I just hope as her story continues to unfold in S5 that more people talk about it and create about it and come to remember her as badass and amazing as she’s always been. Because Naomi is such an incredible character on page and screen and she and Dom deserve all the love we can give them.

#naomi nagata #the expanse #expanse spoilers #naomi nagata stan hours #long post #i had it under a read more but i hated it

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prismadog · 4 years ago

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I kinda had a suggestion for your au,

So if you don't want to read it, this is your time to delete this ask,

But yeah, maybe Xornoth hasn't been completely corrupted when Scott's people sends them to the nether

As in like, he is definitely very corrupted and evil, but it's not too late for him to become human again

And then [insert something involving Shrub] happens and he is presented the choice of becoming human again and unlocking all the power of exor, at the cost of turning away from his humanity forever

why wouldn't I want to read a suggestion? I love talking to people! and I'd love to hear any feedback, comments, or suggestions!

ooh...I love this idea so much already!

I haven't thought too much about the end game yet but I have thought a bit about pre-exile Xornoth and it's pretty much what you said: maybe they're not fully corrupted and there's a chance for him to return to his former self.

EDIT: this is a quick message from after typing out the below post. I somehow ended up coming up with an end game, idk how that happened but it did. it's not exactly like you suggested but I hope it satisfies well enough. I really loved your ask btw.

also, this is fairly long so I'm putting a "keep reading line below". I think I might have also sort of written a story here? like, I meant for this to be just a little response but...it's not. it's practically a story for how things will go down. obviously, it'll need work, but it's a start!

pre-exile chance

my thoughts: there was one moment when Xornoth really questioned their actions, questioned their blind faith to Exor, questioned how they became a monster when all they wanted was to be the beloved hero that their brother Alinar is.

that moment, it was when they were banished from their home, but before they were exiled to the Nether. the people wanted them gone and they turned to their brother for help, they wanted Alinar to keep the people from banishing them. the moment where Xornoth questioned everything was when Alinar turned his back on them.

they moved to the caves and questioned every single little thing they've ever done - where had they gone wrong? why wasn't Alinar proud of him? maybe...maybe everything they were doing wasn't so good after all.

I believe that if when Alinar had found his brother again, if he had asked Aeor for aid in saving his brother instead of banishing them for good, there would have been a chance for Xornoth to return to his former self. but no, Alinar had to go and remove that chance entirely from the equation and exile his brother in the Nether.

* I'm using the Clash of the Great Stags as reference for that part above. I'm leaving Conal & Alinar's canon story as history for the AU versions, though, there might be a tweak or two in the future, who knows?

but. after reading your suggestion and having a good long think about this...maybe there is still a chance, even after Alinar turned his back on his brother.

so...I'ma gonna hash things out here.

hash out chance

we the fans know that there's going to be some form of "final battle" between the rulers and Xornoth - the same will be true for the AU as well. it'll be Xornoth, Sausage, Joey, and Shrub against everyone else - though, for Shrub, she doesn't want to fight, she doesn't want to see anyone get hurt, she just wants everyone to get along. but she knows that no matter what she does, everyone will end up at the final battle, ready for war.

but before that, there's a lot of moments where, like in canon, everyone is trying to find a cure for the corruption plaguing their lands. Shrub is no different, except, she pushes more towards a cure for people, for the demon themself.

Katherine, Scott, and Gem are more than willing to help her find a cure - they don't really know why Shrub is so insistent on curing the demon, she only ever vaguely tells them her reasons, but they're still going to help her because they're her friends.

during this, Scott will talk to Aeor, wondering if there is a way to cure the corruption at its source - the demon - without shedding any more blood.

Aeor, I know he's supposed to be a good god, believing in peace and equality - and he is a good god, but...I don't think he would want to resolve things between him and Exor peacefully. in the story I linked, he pretty much jumped right into a fight with Exor without hesitation

so, that being said, I don't think things would be any different even if his champion was looking for peaceful solutions. I believe Aeor would want Scott to take up arms against Xornoth and fight for him, to end the corruption once and for all.

Scott would be reluctant of course, torn between his god's wishes and helping his friends. so, maybe he does both - he'll try to help his friends find a cure for the demon but he'll also prepare for the inevitable final battle.

Shrub and her friends work tirelessly trying to find a cure, making several different potions, and each one Shrub takes home with her and gives them to Xornoth. they're reluctant to take the potions but they'll do anything for their gnome, even if it means turning their back on their god and giving up all the power Exor gifted them.

so, Xornoth tries every different potion given to them, even though not a single one has any effect on them, until all options are completely eliminated and the rulers run out of ideas. at that point in time, there is no other choice except war - war between the gods, between their champions, between people who were all once friends but are now on opposing sides.

maybe this is where Shrub breaks completely, at the moment when the others give up. maybe she begs them to keep trying - just one more potion, that's all we need, the next one will be the right one, I just know it, please keep trying, please don't give up yet, we have to keeping trying.

they'll question her on why she wants the demon cured so badly, they'll question despite knowing that she's only going to dodge every question asked.

but this time. this time Shrub doesn't dodge. this time, she stops giving vague answers and she stops telling lies that leave her with a pit in her stomach. this time, she breaks. this time, she tells them the truth. this time, she tells them the story of her life, her connection to the demon and how Xornoth is like a father to her - tending to her injuries, telling her stories, teaching her so many things, but most of all, loving her unconditionally.

she begs their forgiveness for lying to them for so long, begs them to help her find a cure for the only family she's ever known, begs them to not give up yet.

the other rulers would obviously be shocked, some might walk away feeling hurt and betrayed, some might come to Shrub and accept her as the child of the monster that plagues their lands. those that do accept her, they comfort her and she comforts them. they might all keep trying to make a cure, despite how hopeless it seems - they've already failed so many times, what more can they do?

Xornoth would have the same thoughts - what more can the rulers do? everything they tried, every potion made, has failed and it's just going to be more of the same. so, they make a decision, the demon seals their fate, the demon makes the call for war.

they go into the final battle reluctantly, knowing that there's only one true way to cure them and wishing that it didn't have to be with their death. they go into that battle hoping their little Shrub - their sweet, kind girl who showed them a better way of living - will be okay when they're gone. they know that her friends will be there for her so she should be okay, she can survive.

the two sides face off. no one wants to fight. Shrub, though she stands on the side of the rulers, is torn between her friends and her family. everyone there knows that the speeches given by the rulers of the Overworld are a poor attempt at staving off the inevitable.

Xornoth wants to be the one to throw the first punch, to get the ball rolling, get this fight done and over with, but they see their gnome, their beloved child, staring at them from across the battlefield, and she's crying. the battle hasn't even started and yet, she's mourning their death.

they don't attack. they stay their hand. they stand down. they move forward, hands up and open, free of any weapon, and walk gladly towards their demise. no one moves, all are still as the demon approaches, the usual sinister grin replaced by a grimace of heartache.

the demon stops before them, before their little Shrub and before the elf that looks so much like the brother they lost. Xornoth kneels at their feet, they say their parting words of love to their gnome, then they bow their head and tell Aeor's Champion to make it a quick death and please, if you could do me one favor, please don't let Shrub watch, please don't let her be here.

Shrub tries to go to her father's side, tries to beg them not to do this - there's still time, we can still find a way, please don't do this, please don't give up. Katherine and Gem hold her, embrace her in a way that her eyes are shielded from the bloodshed that's soon to come. they look to Scott, he's the one with the powers of a god that can rival the demon's darkness.

Scott is shaking where he stands but it's not from fear. he stands before the demon, above the monster that's terrorized his friends, and in his hands is the weapon that will strike the final blow and end everything. he had thought for a long time that Alinar was right in his actions, following the path Aeor laid out before him, banishing the only family he had to another world.

but standing here, knowing what he knows now about his friend Shrub, what he knows about himself as Aeor's Champion and about his past life as Alinar - he knows that Alinar made the wrong choice, he knows that there is a better way.

Scott, knowing that his next action is going to displease his god, drops the blessed weapon given to him and says - No. he kneels before the monster and says - You will not die today. he embraces the brother he never knew and says - We will find a cure.

this is where Aeor has a choice to make - enact justice on the crimes committed by Exor - or forgive his sins.

the Stag God follows his Champion's lead and chooses forgiveness. he stands before his own brother and chooses to end the war they've fought for eons.

with this, the corruption dies around them and Conal is freed. the demon melts away and an elf emerges from its remains. Conal embraces their brother come back to life and relishes in the life he's been gifted.

Shrub breaks free from her friends and practically crushes her family - both her father and Scott - with an embrace of her own. she cries enough tears for the both of them, though, Conal comes pretty close to out-crying their child.

and with that, the war is over, the demon is defeated, and the Overworld can live in peace once again.

#empires smp #found family au #xornoth adopts child!shubble au #xornoth #shubble #scott smajor #katherine elizabeth #geminitay #aeor #exor #the great stag gods #this took both of my braincells to write but boy was it worth tiring them out #i've never felt so creative!

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 years ago

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What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #king of demons #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #the owl house reviews #what i thought about

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Not So Golden Opportunity (BAON)

Summary: Usually Stretch likes getting packages in the mail, but there is always room for an exception.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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The knock on the front door wasn’t much of a surprise, not when it came at delivery o’clock. Stretch always had packages coming in, everything from equipment for the lab to a new t-shirt that declared he was a ‘Karaoke King’, there was always something for their delivery person to drop off. At any given time, there was enough cardboard stored in their garage waiting to get dropped off at recycle to make one heck of a box fort, and that was on his list to do with the neighborhood kiddos one of these weekends.

So, the knock on the door? Not a surprise. What they were delivering on the other hand—

“uh, wow, thanks, marty,” Stretch said, a little dubiously. Marty let out an agreeable honk and meandered their way back to their little mail truck, leaving Stretch standing there with an enormous armful of flowers from an unknown source. Couldn’t be from Edge. Sure, he’d given flowers a few times, but Edge was more of an in-person sort of guy when it came to presents.

Welp, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there. Time to get his Velma on and look for some clues.

Stretch carried the massive thing inside and plunked it down on the coffee table to give it a closer look. It was actually a very nice floral arrangement, even Stretch could see that and he didn’t know shit about flowers or décor. Tiny sprays of white, bell-like blooms and ferny green things surrounding several huge blooms of golden flowers, the likes of which Stretch hadn’t seen in years, not since they were Underground.

Hm. Golden flowers.

The card had Edge’s name on it, but Stretch didn’t bother sneaking a peek. Mystery solves, there was only one person who would’ve had this delivered to their door and he probably made it with his own fuzzy hands. The real question was why that asshole was having flowers sent to his husband, thank you, and the only way to find out if he needed to start making plans to yank out hunks of fur with his bare hands was to ask, with the minimum of simmering jealousy possible.

“babe?” Stretch called. Edge was in the kitchen, making preparations for their new cupboards to be installed next week. “hey, c’mere a minute!”

He’d expected Edge to be pleased, he did like his flowers, heck, maybe even excited in that adorably subdued way he had, and much as Stretch could have done without any surprise packages from Ass-gore in their house, eh, he’d deal with it if they made Edge happy.

The last thing he anticipated was for Edge to stop cold halfway out the kitchen door, the fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face quickly shifting to blankness. Edge wasn’t exactly the most emotive guy out there, but Stretch was pretty good at reading his facial version of charades and right now there wasn’t so much as a twitch of the eye socket or a curl of his mouth as he said, low, “Please put that in the garage.”

“the garage?” Stretch repeated doubtfully. He looked down at the extravagant display of floral dominance in his hands and wondered if he’d heard that right. “you sure?

“Yes, because someone might notice if you put it right into the trash.” That blankness cracked, a little, enough for Edge to snap out, “Just get it out of the damn house!”

Yeah, okay, got that message loud and clear, especially since Edge was starting to look a little glowy around the hands, like he was considering a little impromptu, and violent, floral rearranging. Stretch grabbed up the offending bouquet before it could end up as target practice and shortcutted out into the garage.

Like the rest of the house, it was neat as a pin, no oil stains on this concrete floor and all the tools neatly put away on the pegboard. In the back corner was the motorcycle, shrouded in drop cloths and waiting for Edge to be able to take it out for a spin again. Didn’t seem like putting the flowers anywhere special was part of today’s theme, so Stretch stuffed the thing into the furthest spot, away from Edge’s car so he wouldn’t have to see it when he came out on his way to work tomorrow.

Job successfully achieved, Stretch dusted off his hands and teleported back inside. Edge was already gone from the living room, no surprise there, but he hadn’t gone back to the kitchen. A quick, not-at-all-frantic search found him sitting out on the front porch and that wasn’t really a surprise, either. But the cigarette in his hand? Now that blew past surprise all the way into flabbergasted shock. Far as Stretch knew, Edge hadn’t bummed a smoke in months, his general attitude towards smoking was distaste with extreme prejudice. It took a helluva lot for him to give into the urge for a quick fix to a nicotine craving. Whatever his issues were with the flowers, whether it was the gift or the person who sent them, they were bad.

“babe?” Stretch asked, cautiously, still hovering half in the house. As worried as he was, he wouldn’t push, ready to leave if Edge wanted to be alone.

Edge only shifted the cigarette to his other hand and patted the concrete next to him in silent invitation. A little relieved, Stretch came out and sat down. He dug his own cigarette out of the crumpled pack and the two of them sat hip to hip, quietly smoking. Overhead, the sky was endless sea of deep blue broken only by the occasional streak of a puffy cloud. A nice day, too nice for the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air, but Stretch didn’t ask them. Edge would talk when he was ready and if he never was, welp, that was fine, too. Edge wasn’t the only one who could be supportive, Stretch was more than willing to take his turn under the weight.

It wasn’t until Edge tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray Stretch kept out on the porch that he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“i think i’ll live, babe,” Stretch replied, dryly, “the wounds were superficial.” He gave Edge a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. “you okay?”

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t pushing, thanks. Besides, it was a stupid question, because the answer was obviously going to be a ‘yes, fine’ and that’d be it.

Except that he didn’t get the obvious answer he expected.

“Not right now,” Edge said. His sockets were half-closed and instead of their yard, he seemed to be looking miles away. “I will be.” They sat in silence for a while longer, Stretch watching people walking by, waving as required and leaving Edge to his thoughts. He was lighting a second cigarette when Edge finally spoke again, softly. “Golden flowers.” The faint hitch in his voice could’ve meant nothing, if the person he was sitting with didn’t know him so well. “I haven’t seen real golden flowers in years.”

Stretch considered that. “i’m taking it they weren’t sorely missed.”

“Hm?” Crimson eye lights briefly flicked his way. “No, not at all. I hate the blasted things.”

Stretch only took a long drag and exhaled slowly, blowing a smoke ring up into that blue, blue sky. He didn’t ask or urge him to talk, simply being there if he chose to. And Edge did, slowly, as if choosing every word with care. “The only place in Underfell where golden flowers grew was the king’s chamber in New Home. My memories of that place are…not pleasant.”

Not pleasant. Yeah, like lava is a wee bit warmish or the Titanic sprung a little leak. Indisputable truths: water is wet, the sky is blue, grass is green, and any meeting with the king of all Monsters in Underfell was not pleasant.

The explanation made perfect sense, really; if Stretch’d had a minute to actually think about it instead of dividing his attention between ditching the flowers and then finding his wayward husband, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Perfect sense, yep, and that was why Stretch was torn between temptations. First, to grab Edge and hold him close, to keep him there in his arms and do whatever it took to chase away any of the mental ghosts that were creeping in, to be the protector for one damn time. And then there was the equal temptation to take that little flower arrangement on back to the source and see if he could find any handy place to stick it, because right now, he was ready to cram it so far up someone’s fuzzy buns that they’d need their dentist to help get it loose.

But Edge wouldn’t appreciate either of those options. All Stretch could do here was sit here, be here, and hope it was enough.

Stretch was so lost in his thoughts that he startled at the touch of a gloved hand as it settled gently over his bare one, sharp fingertips blunted by fabric lightly stroking his own. “He didn’t know, love. He mentioned to me in passing that he’d started working on floral arrangements again for the summer and that he’d be sending them out to Embassy employees, and I completely forgot.”

Trust Edge to know exactly what direction his thoughts were headed, right off the grid and into a little righteous revenge. Didn’t help that the things Stretch wanted to say to that excuse weren’t exactly helpful. Things like, Asgore should have been able to guess, homey reminders were only good for people who actually liked their past home, and maybe a reminder to pay some fucking attention to anything besides his own personal popularity contest was in order. Or how about suggestion for a visit to emphasis the whole ‘we don’t send my husband any gifts without pre-approval, asshole’.

None of those options were actually useful and either might actually get him banned from the Embassy this time, so Stretch kept ‘em to himself and only said, “i know.”

Then he let out a squawk as that gentle touch on his hand turned into a firm grip around his wrist and he was abruptly yanked over into Edge’s lap. He barely managed to put out his cigarette before it landed anywhere unpleasant. It took a little creative, and occasionally blatant, wriggling to get situated but in the end, he was settled across Edge’s femurs and snuggled in. His own hands were perfectly G-rated, Edge’s only slightly less so but it wasn’t like anyone on the street could see the hand he’d slipped under Stretch’s sweatshirt and settled over his sternum, right where his soul would manifest if he summoned it. Neither of them did, not yet, not out here in front of the broad daylight and the neighbors. The barest suggestion was enough for right now.

“I’m all right,” Edge murmured, and the warmth of his breath against the curve of his jaw was a tempting distraction. But Stretch wasn’t gonna forget to hand over a carefully selected piece of his mind to Asgore the next time he saw him.

Next time fuzzy ass wanted to send a present, he could stick with a gift card.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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blu-joons · 5 years ago

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Lonely This Christmas ~ Mark Tuan

You sighed as the time passed seven, once again Mark had left you at home alone, despite his promise he failed to show up on time, leaving you in the dark of the apartment, the only thing lit up, the lights wrapped elegantly around your Christmas tree.

Before you knew it, a hot tear rolled down your cheek, quickly wiping it away, refusing to let him get to you. It wasn’t what you signed up when you agreed to spend Christmas with Mark, you wanted to be able to enjoy the holidays and spend time with each other, not spend it alone.

You couldn’t sit in the apartment alone for much longer, seeing all the smiling faces of people outside the window continued to eat up at you for leaving your family alone at Christmas, Mark might have made you feel miserable, but you weren’t prepared to let Christmas do the same to you.

Much of Seoul still remained a mystery to you, but one place that didn’t was the nearby park, you’d spent hours there together with Milo, or enjoying serene dates together, picnics, games, these were the times when you treasured Mark the most.

You sat yourself down on one of the benches, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, the cold temperature was something you hadn’t quite prepared yourself for on your way out of the door.

An hour later, Mark finally appeared home, confused by no sign of light in the house. He called out your name once, twice, three times, but was met with an eerie silence. As he switched on the main light, he caught sight of your bag on the coffee table, looking on the back of the door however, your coat was not to be seen, your shoes not on the rack.

Instinctively, his hand pulled out his phone, dialling your number. You’d not mentioned to him about going out, but it was dark and cold, he was desperate to know where you were and if you were safe. A groan escaped him as he was greeted by your answerphone, hurriedly sending you several texts to pick up his call before dialling once again, only to met with the same response.

Meanwhile, tears fell down your cheeks as your phone vibrated in your hand, every part of you held back on accepting the call, trying to come to terms with how hard Christmas was becoming for you.

Beside him, Milo barked, causing Mark to look down at him. With yet another unanswered call, his options were limited, picking up his dog, wrapping him in the fleece you’d bought as part of his Christmas present last year, attaching his lead to him.

“Do you fancy a walk?” He questioned, knowing no response was going to come from his pooch.

He turned the light off, walking back down the stairs of the apartment block and into the cold. His free hand was quickly stuffed into his pocket as he tried to call you once again, checking to see if you’d read any of his texts, which of course, you hadn’t.

Your head became heavy as you sat in your own daydream, couples and families alike continued to walk past you, wearing smiles that you could only dream of wearing, sharing a happiness you wished you could have matched.

You hated being so disappointed in Mark, but let down after let down was tiring you out, he didn’t deserve your tears nor to see you upset, but your strength was very quickly slipping away. The two of you had been distant for quite some time living your separate lives, but Christmas was supposed to be the catalyst in bringing you back together again.

Footsteps trudged behind you as you sat, the bark of a dog brought the corners of your mouth up into a smile as you remembered how Milo used to bark at you.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your head remained staring forwards as a figure sat beside you on the bench, keeping a small distance between you both. Mark was torn between emotions, he hated that you’d left him so worried, yet he was just so relieved to have found you.

He bent down and picked Milo up, your eyes rolled having realised the bark must have come from him, as Mark placed him between you both.

“It’s cold Y/N, you shouldn’t be out in this weather,” he scolded, desperate to bring your eyes to turn and face him. “What are you even doing out here? Why weren’t you at home? Has something happened?”

You bit down hard on your lip to try and stop anymore tears from falling, “you bailed on me yet again Mark, something else came before me, I didn’t know what else to do.”

His arm reached out to hold yours, flinching at just how cold you were. Within a heartbeat he’d taken off his winter coat and draped it over your front, taking both your hands in his to try and warm them up, breathing into them.

“I’m sorry, I should have called and told you.”

“It’s not just today though Mark, is it? We’ve been like this for months, it’s Christmas in a couple of days and yet I feel like I’m celebrating all by myself, I could be at home around my family, but instead I’m sat in an empty apartment all by myself.”

His head nodded, kicking himself for being so thoughtless, he knew that the two of you had been having a hard time with being so busy, but he had failed to see just how badly it was bothering you.

Your head slowly turned to look at him, as a tear rolled down your cheek. His hand moved away from yours, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it away quickly. Your cheeks were red, tinged with a sting from the winter, breaking his heart.

“Please don’t cry because of me,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what else to do anymore Mark.”

His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face forwards, pressing his forehead against yours. Your tears quickly began to freely fall, catching the ends of Milo’s tail as he curled in between you both.

“Do you have any idea for how long I’ve been looking forward to Christmas with you? To be able to make all these memories together,” you stuttered, “I’ve sat here tonight and dreamt of being able to have even half of the amount of fun all the people in the park are having.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, pressing his lips against the tip of your nose, “I don’t know what else to say except for I’m sorry. I’ve been an idiot for treating you this way, it’s Christmas, and you chose to be here with me, I should make it special for you.”

He still remembered the moment you told him your plans for Christmas, how quick he was to hug you with excitement, all the plans he’d come up with things the two of you could do, but none of those things ever came to fruition.

“Can we just go home and talk some more? You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here any longer. I’ll draw you a bath, make us a hot chocolate, and then we can talk about how we’re going to enjoy the rest of the build up to Christmas,” he suggested.

“But you still have work?”

He chuckled with a shake of his head. “If you think for a second I’m going back to work before Christmas then you’re crazy, there’s no way I’m spending any longer away from you, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

His own cold hands wiped underneath your eyes, ruffling the fur on top of Milo’s fur where a few of your tears had fallen. He then stood up, offering his hand out for you to take, standing you up from the bench with Milo’s leash gripped tightly in your hand.

“How about we go to that Christmas market tomorrow?” You proposed, passing Mark his jacket back, only for him to place it back around your shoulders.

“Whatever you want to do, we’ll do, the rest of the week is all for you,” he smiled, beginning to walk back along the path to his apartment. “Maybe we could invest in some mistletoe, I think you deserve a few kisses from me after all this?”

“I would never say no to mistletoe and a kiss from you.”

---

Masterlist

#got7 #got7 imagine #mark tuan #mark #mark imagine #mark tuan imagine #got7 reaction #got7 scenario #got7 drabble #got7 one shot #got7 fluff #mark tuan reaction #mark tuan scenario #mark tuan one shot #mark tuan drabble #got7 angst #mark scenario #kpop #kpop imagine

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years ago

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Trust, Promises, and Resets

Welcome all to my first Undertale fanfic! This one took a bit to finish but I’m really, really happy it’s done and ready to be shared with the world! Just a short and sweet one-shot about Frisk and Sans dealing with resets and all the baggage that comes with them. Wanted to put my own personal spin on a very classic concept for the Undertale fanbase. This was also some much needed practice at writing these characters, hopefully I nailed them.

Anyways enjoy!

Disclaimer: Undertale and all its characters belong to Toby Fox. All Rights go to him.

The glow from the screen was starting to hurt Frisk’s eyes, the neon pop of orange color starting to burn into their retina, still they refused to turn on any lights, forcing themselves to remain sitting in the dark. They couldn't let anyone see them while they did this, not mom, not dad, not Undyne, not Alphys, not Papyrus, and not Sans. Definitely not Sans. Frisk had worked so hard to gain his trust, they would hate to ruin all the progress they had made with the skeleton.

Frisk let out a long sigh, staring at the word and trying not to lose their cool. 'Reset'. The word taunted them, a constant nagging at the back of Frisk’s mind, the power and hurt contained in such a simple word. Five letters that could make or break the world, that had the power to uproot so many lives. And Frisk alone held this power.

They let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep their calm. It's okay, it'll all be over soon and this temptation won’t haunt me any longer. They thought, though the reassurance felt hollow.

Slowly they raised up trembling fingers, reaching out towards the button. Time seemed to slow, a steady ringing in Frisk's ear, the room around them shuddering as if the fabric of the world was unraveling. The button seemed to be gleaming back at them, the cursed words beckoning them to press it and redo it all over again. To finally satiate the curiosity they were plagued by. Just let this be over, Frisk thought, the words desperate in their head. Just let it finally end!

Knock, knock.

The steady rapping of the wood outside Frisk’s door startled them, causing them to jump in place, looking towards the closed door in panic. They racked their brain, trying to match a friend to the sound, each Monster having their own unique knocking style. Toriel’s was steady and calm, more like a melody than a knock really. Asgore was strong and powerful, often making the walls around it shake with every rap of his knuckles; it definitely didn’t fit the goofy but lovable Monster Frisk had grown to know and love. Alphys was always so gentle Frisk could barely hear it and most times wouldn’t even hear the even quieter call after from the shy scientist. Undyne forgoed knocking altogether, prefering to kick the door open with no warning (Frisk still remembered the incident where poor Blooky had been on the other side). Papyrus often did the same but when he did knock it was rapid and enthusiastic, like he was just beyond excited and couldn’t wait to enter. None of those matched up with this particular knock so that just left…

"heh, you're supposed to say 'who's there', kiddo."

Frisk choked on a gasp. No! Not Sans! Anyone but him!

Frisk moved to press the 'continue' button, hoping to hide the evidence before it was too late but to their surprise the door swung open way too quickly and they wanted to slap themselves for forgetting the improvements the lazy skeleton had made on himself. At first, old habits had persisted, his movements slow and tired as if he hadn’t slept in years rather than constantly. But as he and Frisk grew closer, slowly and surely they had watched the life return to the small skeleton. Not to say he didn’t have his moments of laziness. He was still the same Sans he always was, able to nap at any time or place (usually on the job), preferring to be carried around by Papyrus rather than walk, and cracking puns whenever the opportunity presented itself. But he was more energetic, Frisk might even go as far as to say happy. The smile permanently plastered on his face didn't seem forced anymore. It felt natural and real.

In fact, just the other day Papyrus had been praising Sans on his much needed enthusiasm and Frisk had been right there with him, proud to see their friend truly happy and at peace.

But in this moment, so close to getting caught, Frisk selfishly wished for the old Sans back, if only to prevent the catastrophe that was coming as Sans stepped into the dark room.

"heya, kiddo. what'cha doin' sitting in the dark? don't tell me we’re both going knock-turnal, heh." Sans froze as he finally took in the scene, his eye sockets widening in what Frisk could only assume was fear. They knew how it must look, sitting in the dark in front of the screen that could undo years of Sans’ life. It was an incriminating scene to walk in on and Frisk cursed themselves for not locking the door, barricading it with anything and everything they had on hand to avoid this outcome. They had been careless. They had thought the house was empty while Toriel went out for groceries but clearly they were wrong. And now Sans would pay the price.

Sans’ eye sockets, which had only a second ago shined with life and the promise of hope, dimmed till they were void, empty spaces, no light able to seep through the blackness. Frisk had seen that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. It meant they messed up. And the consequences were that vacant expression. How many times had Frisk seen it before? They had lost count. And all the hope and trust they had built up in Sans shattered and died in an instant. Just like that. “oh,” was the only word that escaped Sans’ mouth and it sounded forced and choked at that, as empty and hollow as the black voids his eyes had become. What had Frisk done?

“Sans, it’s not what it looks like.” Frisk hoped that Sans would listen to them, let them explain and maybe make things right again. But they knew that wasn’t the case, Sans’ broken mind had already jumped to the worst possible conclusion, just like it always did. Frisk wasn’t entirely sure this was fixable but they had to at least try. “I wasn’t going to-”

“heh, it’s okay, kiddo. i get it. knew it was a matter of time, guess i just wasn’t prepared for it to be today.” There was nothing in the skeleton’s voice. No laughter, no emotion. It was just hollow. How long had it been since Frisk had seen Sans this bad. This empty. It was as if the skeleton wasn’t even there at all, just a shell made of bones pretending to be him. He looked so fragile and tired, a gust of wind could probably blow him away.

His bony fingers rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and… oh gosh, were those tears? Frisk had really screwed up this time. Sans’s hands were back in his pockets and he tried to look casual, normal, and if not for the emptiness in his sockets Frisk might have believed it. And there was that smile, that dead smile that Frisk had worked so hard to wipe away. It was instinct for Sans, a defense mechanism against the emptiness in his soul. Just smile and joke it off as if nothing was wrong. Oh man, what was Papyrus gonna say when he saw that look was back? He had confided in Frisk once about how much it hurt him to see Sans that way. Miserable but closed off. It must have been torture watching from a distance as his brother slowly tore himself apart.

“just, uh… do me a favor, okay kiddo?” Sans continued. “as your pal, just let me have one last trip to grillby’s before you… y’know. let me ketchup one last time before it all goes back.” The pun was painful for Frisk to hear. Normally they would laugh at how bad it was and then would follow up with something like, “Well I know those guys relish your company,” and then Sans would chuckle and say something equally as terrible and on and on it would go. But Frisk didn’t even smile at the joke, they just watched the skeleton sadly, feeling their soul shudder in pain, their sins crawling on their back.

Before Frisk could give their answer, Sans had turned and left the room, the skeleton surprising Frisk again with his speed. Frisk was in the hallway a second later, chasing after their friend, desperate to make things right. "Sans, please wait!"

A formation of bones appeared between the two and Frisk jumped, for a moment terror flooded through their soul. In a flash they were back in that dreaded room of yellow, the empty echoing halls torn and destroyed as thousands of bones jutted out of every crevice, breaking the once fancy hall apart. They could smell the blood in the air, could feel the bone lodged deep in their chest. The pain was unbearable as their soul was ripped apart and scattered to the wind and the last thing they saw before it all went to black was the glowing angry blue in their opponent's eyes, the words, 'dirty brother killer' echoing in their head.

Frisk shuddered as they forced the memory back, burying it deep inside themselves. This wasn't the time for relieving the past, Sans needed them in the present. The bones protruding through the middle of the hallway and separating Frisk from Sans were a light blue, passing through them wasn't an option. That just left reasoning then. Darn, Sans was impossible to reason with in this state. But what choice did Frisk have?

"Sans, please just let me explain." They had to make him see. Show him they weren't doing what he thought.

"seeya 'round, kiddo," Sans said, looking back over his shoulder, giving his typical teasing wink, only now it wasn't playful. It was wrong. This was all so wrong.

Frisk blinked and suddenly Sans was no longer in the hallway. They had been expecting him to use a shortcut but it still shook them to be alone. To suddenly be standing in the middle of their house, wracked with guilt and with no one to help provide any sort of comfort. Not that they deserved it.

Why? Why hadn't they taken more precautions? Why hadn't they made sure there was no chance of someone coming in on them? Looking back on it, Frisk felt stupid. Of course they would get caught! They had practically been begging for it. They hadn't even bothered to lock their door. Clearly Frisk had wanted this to happen!

For a few moments Frisk just stood alone in the hallway, clenching and unclenching their fists, trying to think of a way to make things up to Sans while simultaneously cursing themselves for creating this mess in the first place. Just when Frisk was ready to slam their head into the nearest wall to try and release the image of Sans’ empty expression that circled their head, a loud voice rang throughout the quiet household. “HUMAN! SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAVE RETURNED!"

Papyrus walked in through the front door (thankfully not breaking it down in his excitement) a proud, friendly smile permanently plastered on his face. Normally Frisk would be overjoyed to see him but right now, his undaunted kindness only made them feel worse and even more scummy. They didn't deserve a cool friend like Papyrus after what they had done to his brother.

The skeleton froze when he spotted the state of the hallway and the dozen or so bones jutting out of the floor. "WHAT HAPPENED HERE? DON'T TELL ME YOU ASKED MY LAZYBONES BROTHER TO SPAR WITH YOU?! BECAUSE WHILE I APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO HELP HIM GET IN SOME MUCH NEEDED EXERCISE, I'M NOT SURE TORIEL WOULD APPRECIATE YOU DOING IT IN HER HOUSE!" Papyrus paused, a frown briefly flashing across his face as he added, "TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW."

Frisk said nothing, keeping their head lowered in shame. They didn't want to admit what they had done, not to Papyrus. They had already promised Sans not to breathe a word about 'resets' to his brother, the least Frisk could do was not betray Sans' trust anymore than they already had.

Papyrus took notice of his friend's sad demeanor and immediately took it upon himself to cheer them up. The skeleton swept his scarf behind himself dramatically before loudly declaring, "BUT NOT TO WORRY TINY HUMAN, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL HELP YOU CLEAN UP BEFORE THE LADY TORIEL RETURNS FROM THEIR SHOPPING QUEST!!"

Frisk gave them the bare minimum of a smile, more of a grimace than a full on grin. "Thanks, Paps," was all they could think to say and they nearly flinched at their own sorrowful tone. Geez, since when had they gotten so bad at lying? Back in the Underground they had had the ultimate poker face, only Sans couldn't see through their blank expression. Now they'd be lucky to fool a blind bat with how obvious they were being. Then again, Frisk would hardly consider themselves to be emotional at all back then, feelings besides determination had been hard to come by. Frisk wondered if maybe the Monsters had been helping them this whole time and they hadn't even noticed.

Papyrus, seeing how distressed their dear friend still was, took a better look at the situation, hoping to piece together what exactly had happened to trouble Frisk so greatly. A quick glance around and Papyrus noticed something off. "WHERE IS SANS?"

Frisk bit their lip but hesitantly explained, "He went to Grillby's."

Papyrus let out a long sigh, shaking his skull despite the situation. "THAT LAZYBONES. HOW TYPICAL OF HIM TO MAKE A MESS AND LEAVE ME TO PICK IT UP. HE'S LUCKY HE'S GOT SUCH A COOL YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKING OUT FOR HIM," the skelebro added boastfully.

Frisk shook their head, trying desperately to find some way out of this conversation without admitting to Papyrus what they had done. But no matter what scenario they thought up, they just couldn't come up with anything but the truth. So finally, the young human admitted reluctantly, "Actually me and Sans… had a fight."

"oh," Papyrus replied, for just a moment losing his loud, boisterous attitude. But then, in the blink of an eye, it was back as the skeleton was able to leap high into the air, doing a ridiculous spin as he went, which would normally get a chuckle out of Frisk. He was somehow able to completely clear the railing for the second floor, landing perfectly on his feet in front of his human friend. "NYEH HEH HEH, DO NOT FRET, HUMAN, FOR YOUR GREAT AND COOL FRIEND KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT TO DO TO FIX THIS PROBLEM!"

"You do?" Frisk asked.

"BUT OF COURSE," Papyrus continued, taking on a heroic pose. "IT IS THE DUTY OF ALL ROYAL GUARDS TO HELP OUT OTHERS IN NEED! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE SUCH DEAR AND IMPORTANT FRIENDS SUCH AS YOU!"

"Papyrus I don't-" Frisk started to interrupt but their skeletal friend was already lost deep in his rant. They were past the point of no return, Frisk often wondered at times like this if even a reset had the power to stop Papyrus.

"I CAN DIVIDE UP OUR PLAN INTO THREE EASY STEPS: STEP 1. LOCATE SANS, STEP 2. PERSUADE HIM TO TALK USING MY WORLD FAMOUS APOLOGY SPAGHETTI (WHICH I WILL GRACIOUSLY LOAN TO YOU), AND FINALLY, STEP 3. AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE, YOU BOTH APOLOGIZE AND AGREE TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN."

Frisk shook their head, feeling annoyance bubbling up in their chest, but not at Papyrus. Never at him. "That's not gonna work, Paps! Sans is really upset at me and I deserve that! I really messed up! I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again." The young human hung their head, letting the shame of their actions wash over them.

But Papyrus being Papyrus didn't let this stand, aggressively putting a comforting hand on their shoulder and declaring, "I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH TALK, FRISK! AS YOUR COOL BEST FRIEND AND SANS' BROTHER I ASSURE YOU WHATEVER YOU DID IS NOT ENOUGH TO RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM."

"But how do you-"

"HOW DO I KNOW? WELL IT'S VERY SIMPLE HUMAN, BECAUSE YOU TWO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER!! I KNOW YOU TWO LIKE I KNOW MY VERY OWN COOL MIND, NYEH, AND I CAN SEE HOW HAPPY YOU TWO ARE TOGETHER!" Papyrus knelt down so he was level with Frisk, giving them a reassuring grin, his eyelights dancing. "YOU'RE OUR VERY DEAR HUMAN, AFTER ALL, AND I KNOW THAT'S HOW SANS FEELS TOO! SO YOU SEE, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR!"

Frisk took a moment to let that sink in, their guilt ridden mind tossing around this idea with skepticism, while their heavy soul flooded with hopeful optimism. They were torn between both and their body couldn't seem to decide which one to listen to more. "You really think he'll listen to me?"

Papyrus nodded energetically. "OF COURSE!! I'D BET IT ON MY GREAT AND POWERFUL NAME, NYEH HEH HEH!"

Frisk couldn't help but smile, a common side effect from being around the enthusiastic skeleton for too long. It was just what Frisk needed, to smile despite the uncertainty and anxiousness of the situation. It made them feel stronger. It made them feel determined.

Once that feeling took hold, drowning out all the negative fears and worries, Frisk knew what they had to do. It wouldn't be an easy option, in fact, it would most likely be terrible but they were determined to make it up to Sans. To regain one of the most important friendships they had. Papyrus was right, they needed Sans just as much as he needed them.

So, after taking in a long breath for courage, Frisk looked up to their skeletal friend and simply asked, "Can you give me a ride?"

…

Grillby couldn't think of the last time he had seen Sans so miserable. The bartender had seen every single side of his friend over the years, both good and bad, even the parts he was quick to hide from everyone else. But even someone as mysterious and secretive as Sans had to break sometimes and, well, it was always in Grillby's company. The flame Monster had debated with himself many times why that was, maybe because Papyrus never came into his bar so Sans didn't feel the need to keep up the act, maybe it was the copious (and to be honest disgusting) amounts of ketchup Sans consumed that helped loosen his metaphorical lips, or maybe the skelebro just found Grillby's presence comforting. Whatever the reason, Grillby was always happy to be there for Sans, for both the good and bad days.

And today was one of his worst. If memory served, the last time Sans had been this depressed was when they were still living underground. To everyone else he probably seemed like his normal, comedic self, greeting the regular patrons both monster and human with his typical lazy wave hello. But Grillby had seen something off immediately in his old friend. He could tell something was eating the skeleton alive and whatever it was was leaving a heavy toll on poor Sans.

The skeletons' eye sockets were shrunken with whatever terrible emotion was plaguing him, his cheekbones stained with dried tears he had hastily tried to rub away. His smiling mouth was twitching which Grillby knew from past experiences was Sans desperately wanting to frown but his unique body structure making it impossible to do so.

Sans looked small, even more than usual, slumping forward as if it was everything he could do to stay upright. To see his dear friend in such a pitiful state made Grillby's soul feel like it was splitting in half.

Of course, asking Sans what was wrong did nothing, the skeleton was a natural born liar. He had quickly shrugged the series of questions off, his smile so believable that anyone who didn't know Sans as well as Grillby did would have believed it. "you know me, i'm always bone-tired, heh."

The other monsters and humans accepted this answer immediately, some even laughing at the poor excuse for a joke, but Grillby wasn't so easy to convince. But he hadn't bothered to push the subject, since it was clear Sans was not in a sharing mood. Instead he just patiently took his order (ketchup as usual) making a mental note to keep an eye on his friend. Today was a busier day at the bar though, so Grillby was sadly not able to watch over Sans as closely as he wanted. Still, at the very least, Sans didn't seem to be getting any worse. But he also didn't seem to be getting any better, either.

Grillby had just made up his mind to try and talk to Sans after closing time, when the pleasant sound of ringing filled his ears thanks to the bell that hung above the door, alerting him a new customer had entered. Grillby glanced over at them quickly, trying not to take too much attention off of the customer who was ordering, but he couldn't help but take note who had entered his humble bar.

The human called Frisk had stepped into Grillby's establishment, looking unsure and nervous, a rarity for the determined young child. He could tell Fisk didn't want to be in there and Grillby could only assume it had less to do with his bar and more of Sans himself. After all, Frisk always seemed right at home there, Sans would often bring them along during his regular visits and Frisk would have a smile on their face from the moment they walked in, until they left with Sans.

Now things were starting to come together. The reason for Sans' terrible mood had to be related to Frisk. The skeleton always seemed happier when the kid was with him, so the fact they had both come in separately… it was clear to Grillby the two had to be fighting, although over what was anyone's guess. Sans and Frisk always seemed to get along swimmingly, Grillby hadn't even seen the two raise their voices at each other. Sometimes Grillby could swear Sans saw himself as Frisk's dad the way he would indiscreetly fuss over them. It was hard to imagine the two weren't on speaking terms.

Frisk glanced around at the crowded bar clutching a large plate wrapped with tin foil against their chest, clearly searching for someone when their eyes met Grillby's. The human gave him a questioning look, which the fire monster returned with a pointed finger towards the front, where Sans sat, still looking small and miserable.

Frisk gave them a halfhearted nod of thanks before slowly pushing their way towards the skeleton. Grillby watched them until an impatient customer grabbed his attention and he was forced to resume focus on his job, though he still cast an occasional glance towards the pair to see how things developed.

When Frisk reached Sans, they hesitated, taking in the sorry sight of their skeleton friend. Sans was slumped onto the bar, his face resting in his boney arms, which meant Frisk's presence had gone unnoticed so far. Normally, anyone would assume the skelebro was asleep, drinking himself to exhaustion but Frisk saw through that. For one thing, he wasn't snoring, which was a telltale sign of Sans lost in dreamland. And Frisk could also see his body shaking, ever so slightly, almost invisible to the naked eye. Sans wasn't sleeping, he was crying, and making it look like his typical lazy demeanor.

Frisk spotted the bottle of ketchup beside him and nearly gasped as they saw it was unopened. Not a drop was missing from Sans' favorite drink and that was a very bad sign. This situation was more serious than Frisk had initially thought. Normally the skeleton would get drunk to hide the terrible feelings welling up inside him, but if he was ignoring the monster-equivalent of alcohol then he must be in a really, really bad place and Frisk wasn't completely sure they could pull him out of it.

Well that thought faded as quickly as it came, replaced with 'determination' and Frisk thought of Papyrus who was waiting outside. He believed Frisk could make this right and so they wanted to believe it too. And if they couldn't… well, Papyrus had mentioned as Frisk hopped out of his car that if they took longer than thirty minutes, he would come in after them.

Having the enthusiastic skeleton for backup allowed Frisk to finally take action, they set the plate of apology spaghetti down on the bar before climbing up onto the stool next to Sans. The skeleton didn't acknowledge them at first, still pretending to sleep. "Sans," Frisk whispered, causing their friend to flinch. Frisk wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't been expecting someone to call his name or because it came from Frisk themself but it hurt either way.

The skeleton slowly raised his head as if it drained him to do so. "oh heya, kiddo, heh, wasn't expecting to see you here." He tried to sound natural but it was clear by the grating edge to his tone, Frisk had been right, Sans had been crying. "guess you were really fired up for some of grillbz cooking, huh? or maybe something was burger-ing you?'' Sans let out a few halfhearted chuckles, his eye sockets glued to the countertop.

"Sans," Frisk began, keeping their voice steady. "I came cause I needed to tell you something about earlier."

"oh, heh, you're ready to reset already. Guess that's fair, i couldn't bring myself to get that last final drink but… seems like I'm just delaying the inevitable. thanks for waiting on me, kid. i'm… ready when you are."

"Sans, no! That's not what I mean!" Frisk exclaimed, growing frustrated, but not at Sans, at themselves for causing this whole stupid mess. "You're not listening to me! I'm not resetting!" They hadn't meant to raise their voice, they really hadn't but it seemed to be the only way to get through Sans' thick skull.

Sans stared at them long and hard, his piercing black sockets trying to read Frisk like a book and the human did their best to portray trustworthiness in their body language, making a point to keep their eyes locked with Sans' sockets. After a few endless minutes of judgement, Sans finally asked, "and your really bein' honest with me? because you can tell me if not, i promise i can take it."

Frisk shook their head, their small hands clenched into fists on their lap, wrinkling the pant leg in their strong grip. "I'm telling the truth. I don't want to go back, I don't ever want to go back! I couldn't ask for a better ending. Everyone's happy and finally getting to live life thanks to me. Papyrus gets to drive his car every day, even though he's really slow and keeps getting tickets." Frisk smiled warmly as they thought of the hyperactive skeleton, tears beginning to form at the corners of their eyes as they thought of what all would be lost if they ever gave in. "Undyne finally has the freedom to do more than fight all the time and can watch as many stupid awesome animes they want. And Alphys is so confident she doesn't stutter or talk bad about herself anymore. Mettaton's more famous then he ever was Underground and it's even better because now he gets to share that popularity with Blooky and Shyren. And every day, mom and dad look so happy just getting to garden or teach instead of trying to carry everyone's burdens on their shoulders. And Papyrus and I can both see how much better you are since coming to the surface and I would never want to take that away from you or anyone."

Frisk sniffed, wiping their eyes on the back of their sleeve, trying to recover enough to continue. Sans just watched them with growing concern, petrified by their tears since the skeleton had never once seen them cry in the entire time he knew them, which was probably more than anyone else, human or monster. So the fact he was seeing this now left him completely off-guard and clueless as to how to react. He made several moves to comfort them but talked himself out of it at the last second, not wanting to make things worse.

Still the fact he noticeably cared was enough to provide a small sense of comfort to Frisk and they were grateful for it. "But it's not just the monsters," Frisk continued as soon as they got their voice back. "This is the happiest I've ever been in my life! I have a real family and friends that love me and take care of me and I don't ever want any of that to go away!"

Frisk continued to sniffle, trying to keep the sobs buried at the back of their throat, the sadness returning faster than they could stop it, this time stronger than before. Tears ran down their cheeks and they hiccuped out the rest of what they had to say. "B-But no matter what I do or how much I say I won't, you always think I'm gonna reset everything. I can't convince you! Am I really that bad a person that you can't ever trust me?!" With that, the floodgates burst open and Frisk began to sob uncontrollably, doubling over in their seat and weeping pitifully into their hands.

The moment their sobs began, Sans knew he could no longer just sit and watch, now was the time to act. Without a word the skelebro reached over and swooped Frisk into his arms, holding them in a tight but loving hug against his chest. He cooed soothing words into their ear while rocking them back and forth in his seat. He had an arm protectively around their frame, while the other he ran through their short, brown hair. Sans didn't even care that his favorite jacket was now soaked in the kid's tears, all that mattered was comforting his kiddo.

It randomly occured to Sans that this had to be quite the sight for the other patrons of the bar, a small human child sobbing into a forever-grinning skeleton monster. Not that he particularly cared what anyone thought of his and Frisk’s friendship. Still he did take a quick glance around the bar to see if anyone had noticed the situation. Sure enough, the outburst had attracted the attention of every monster and human inside, a few of them seemed putoff by the sight like Sans expected but most just looked concerned, especially the regulars. The dogs had all started whining in concern, Lesser Dog's neck stretching out towards Frisk. Even Grillby had stopped what he was doing to watch the scene play out, Sans reading the worry from his flaming face.

The skeleton quickly returned his attention back to Frisk as they began to shake and hiccup, their sobs slowly dying down in strength. Sans listened to their choked breaths before he decided to try and risk a joke, hoping it would lighten the mood and lift the kid’s spirits a little. “well, call me a half-eaten plate of cookies because now I feel pretty crumby.” Between their sobs, Frisk let out a little laugh, small and halfhearted but it was music to Sans’ ears. He would take any form of joy over listening to them cry a moment longer. Heck, he would prefer a reset over the soul-breaking sobs bursting from his poor kid, especially since he was part of the cause of their tears.

He waited until they had recovered enough to listen, saying in a soft, gentle tone, “listen frisk, i’m so sorry i made you feel that way… that i didn’t trust you. I know you may not believe it but i probably trust you more than myself, heh.” Sans gave Frisk a little squeeze for reassurance. “so please don’t blame yourself for this dumb comedian’s mistake, babybones.”

“You aren’t dumb,” Frisk spoke up, their voice muffled by Sans’ jacket.

“and you aren’t a bad person,” the skeleton monster countered.

Frisk finally pulled their face out of Sans’ jacket, staring up at him with tear-stained vision. “So… you aren’t mad at me?”

Sans almost laughed out loud at the question, the ridiculousness of it all astounding to him. Here he was trying to comfort Frisk after causing them to cry, all because he couldn’t accept that his time in the underground was finally over, that Frisk really wouldn’t reset and trap them all down there again. If anything they should be mad at him, not the other way around.

“of course i’m not mad, kiddo,” Sans finally replied, rubbing a hand up and down Frisk's back in a soothing motion. “ i just got a little too sans-itive back there.” The two both chuckled at the joke, a real, genuine smile returning to Frisk’s face. That’s better, Sans thought with relief. He did a quick scan around the rest of the bar and saw that everyone else had visibly relaxed too, now that Frisk had finally stopped crying.

Since he got the kid calm he figured now was as good a time as any to get some answers so he set them back in their own seat while asking, “so, uh, if you don’t mind me askin’ what were you doing before, if you weren’t trying to reset?"

Frisk tensed, biting their lip and looking down at their lap but thankfully there were no more tears like Sans worried there might be. The human child took a long moment, building up the courage to say, shifting uncomfortably in their seat and not meeting Sans’ eye. Clearly it was something they didn’t want to discuss. Sans was about to change the subject and be done with it but Frisk spoke up just in time. “I was… trying to find a way to destroy the ‘reset’ button,” they admitted sadly.

Sans blinked, the only shock and surprise he let show on his face. He wasn’t expecting that. “uhhh, okay seems a bit weird since you yourself said you never wanted to reset again,” the skeleton responded finally.

“Yeah, but…” Frisk paused, their eyes flooding with fear while their small fingers fiddled with the front of Sans’ jacket, clenching and unclenching the fabric in their grip. All at once they seemed so very far away, lost in their own world and Sans feared he wouldn’t be able to reach them from where he was, he feared it was a path Frisk was trying to walk alone.

“kid?” Sans whispered worriedly, cupping their cheek in his skeletal palm. Frisk’s eyes refocused, snapping them out of whatever horrible vision they had just been shown and they hesitantly met Sans’ gaze. “c’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”

Frisk took in a deep breath, in and out, before admitting, “I-I’m afraid of m-myself.”

Again this was not what Sans was expecting but he made sure not to let his surprise show on his face, knowing Frisk needed unflinching support at this time. “what, a nice kid like you? What could you possibly have to fear about yourself?”

“T-That I’ll reset anyways. That I’m not determined enough to keep this happy ending. That’ll I’ll… ruin everything,” Frisk said, their eyes filling with shame.

Sans gave them a small pat on the head. “but i thought you were determined not to reset? that you’re happy the way things are.”

“But what if it doesn’t last?” Frisk asked, clutching Sans’ jacket so tightly their knuckles turned white, their eyes pleading and desperate as they looked to their skeletal friend for answers. “What if something goes wrong a-and I stop being happy? And then the temptation comes back and I can’t stop myself from-from going back there.” Frisk was starting to hyperventilate and Sans started rubbing circles on their back again, trying to keep them breathing regularly. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if the kid passed out on him. “I don’t want this to end Sans, I don’t want to disappoint you or break our promise but the fact that I don’t know for sure terrifies me!”

Sans took a minute to respond to that, keeping a blank expression while inwardly battling with the turmoil that was threatening to crush him. On one hand, he was afraid of the exact same thing, too. Afraid of waking up back underground, powerless to stop it, completely at the whim of an unpredictable human. And yet, Sans could tell Frisk needed comfort, reassurance, and he was the only one who could provide it, the only one who understood what they were going though. It had never once occurred to Sans that Frisk might be going through the same fears he was and he wanted to slap himself for being so self-centered he hadn’t even noticed the struggles his dear friend was going through on their own.

And despite his fears, what he said to them before rang true. He believed in Frisk. Sure they had messed up before (heck wasn’t like he was exactly Mr. Perfect either) but they had worked so hard to make up for past mistakes and then some. Without them, Sans wouldn’t be free, his family and friends would still be trapped underground, slowly losing their hope of ever seeing freedom for themselves. Sans had judged Frisk more times then he could count, but that last time, before they broke the barrier and declared they would never reset again, he could see they were determined to do right. There had been resolve in their eyes that day at the Judgement Hall, filled with the strength to do good. They held themselves taller than they ever had before and the way the light reflected off their skin and clothes, they looked like a real hero, like… an angel. That was the moment Sans knew things would be different this time, the first time in a long line of resets he allowed himself to hope. Small and fragile, yes, but it was what started him down the right path to fixing himself and he had needed that more than he even knew at the time.

So if he wasn’t willing to return the favor, then he’d be a real, bone-ified jerk. Heh. Not to mention a massive hypocrite. Besides he was positive if Frisk started crying again then he would start weeping some very unmanly tears, too, and he did not want to explain to the other patrons of the bar what caused his own water works, especially Grillby. He was already pushing it by coming there in such a depressed state, if the bar owner caught sight of him crying… well, he might just have to find a new place to drink his favorite brand of ketchup just to get him off his back.

Sans wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to cheering people up, despite his jokes and pour sense of humor he was too much of a cynic to do much of that, but he had a pretty good idea what to say to the kid to ease their mind a little. So, one deep breath later, he gave their hair a good, long ruffle, not enough to hurt them but still strong enough that they were tipped slightly forward by the action.

When he was finished, Frisk seemed taken aback by his response, their hair standing up at odd angles and their eyes wide with confusion but Sans’ plan had worked, he had successfully drawn their attention away from their own troubling thoughts and that was a win in his mind. “c'mon, kiddo,” Sans began, giving them a fake scolding look (which wasn’t easy to do when you are always smiling). “what kinda talk is that? thought you were supposed to be the ‘most determined’ or whatever. you seriously trying to tell me you're afraid of some button after literally coming back from death itself dozens of times?”

Frisk didn’t respond, just staring at the skeleton blankly, so he decided to continue on with his speech, making sure the message sunk in deep. nah, sorry not buyin’ it.” He shook his head before putting on a warm smile, one he knew Frisk would recognize. “the frisk i know is way too stubborn for that. so stop tellin’ yourself otherwise.”

“But Sans, what if something happens? What if things go wrong and ‘resetting’ might be easier?” Frisk asked, fear flooding their vision for a moment as they gripped his jacket fearfully.

But Sans just shrugged it off, reassuring his kid, “then we’ll deal with it. i’m sure between the two us, we numbskulls can come up with some kind of solution that doesn’t involve resetting.”

Frisk smiled a little at the pun but they were too focused on the rest of that sentence to comment on it. “‘We’?” they repeated in a small voice as if uncertain they had heard Sans' right.

The skeleton just nodded his head, winking down at his human friend. “that’s right, kiddo. no matter what happens or if things go terribly right or terribly wrong, i'll be right there by your side, so that we can face it together.”

“You mean it?” Frisk asked hopefully. They wanted to believe that. They wanted so badly to believe they weren’t be alone in dealing with this anymore. But after everything they had done to Sans, even if he didn’t blame them, Frisk just couldn’t accept that as the truth.

“of course i meant it. What kind of dunkle would i be if i wasn’t there to help my kid through a crisis?” he winked playfully at his kiddo but it still didn't quite get through Frisk's barrier.

They at least gave a small halfhearted smile at the nickname they had made up for Sans but they just weren't convinced. After all, Sans had proven he was a pretty good liar. How could they know for sure he was telling the truth? That he wasn't just saying what they wanted to hear like adults tended to do.

The skelebro could see the doubt on their face and so swept them up into another tight hug before saying, "i'll be here for you, kiddo. no matter what. i promise."

Frisk’s mouth dropped open at the word ‘promise’. Sans hated making promises. He avoided committing himself to pretty much anything just to avoid the responsibility and consequences promises brought with them. Despite that, it was obvious promises were something Sans regarded highly, because when he did make them, he did not take them lightly. They were the only reason he hadn’t just disposed of Frisk the first time they met. In all the resets and all the different outcomes Sans had never once spoken those words to them and Frisk had honestly believed he never would. So for him to say those words without force or question or any kind of convincing blew Frisk's mind!

Frisk pulled out of the hug, so they could show Sans their disbelief, giving him a look resembling a gapping fish. The skeleton couldn't help but chuckle at the odd expression (not that he blamed them) before giving their hair another good ruffle. "yeah, yeah, i know. 'i hate makin' promises','' he shrugged as he repeated his old words back to himself. "But if it helps ease your mind and keeps this from happening again…" Sans gestured around the bar, stopping at the unopened bottle of ketchup. "...then i guess it's worth it."

Frisk let out a long puff of air, their face relaxing for the first time in an hour. "So I guess you really condi-meant it," they replied and the two burst into laughter. Sans' laugh roared around the fairly-sized bar, drawing many questioning eyes onto the pair but neither noticed nor cared. All the stress and tension that had built up within them was finally able to be let out, a normal, pleasant calm falling over the pair.

From where he stood cleaning out empty shot glasses, Grillby smiled to himself, happy to hear Sans' laughter in his bar again. The place always felt empty without it, even if the skeleton was a bit of a handful.

"you have no idea how much I pro-missed hearing that laugh of yours, buddy, heh," Sans admitted jokingly, winking down at the giggling Frisk. This only made them laugh harder until there were tears in their eyes.

Seeing that now was the right moment for it, Sans offered the kid his hand to shake. "so how's about it, frisk, partners against time?"

Frisk smiled and nodded vigorously, taking the skeleton's outstretched hand. A loud fart noise echoed through the bar, any newcomers there stopping what they were doing with a look of disgust. Grillby's happy smile turned to an annoyed frown, facepalming in utter frustration and disappointment. He made a mental note to talk to Sans on a day he was doing better because at this rate he was gonna scare away all of his business.

Frisk and Sans, on the other hand, both snorted, trying to hold in their laughter. But when Sans flipped over his hand revealing the whoopie cushion taped onto his palm the two lost it, laughing uncontrollably at the prank, Frisk holding their stomach from lack of oxygen.

Finally, their roars of laughter died down to a low rumble, then a scattering of chortles. Once Frisk and Sans had worn themselves out, they both just took a moment to catch their breath, panting heavily and grinning ear to ear (or non-ears in Sans' case). Once the skeleton could speak again, he lazily stated, "welp, better get back home before pap freaks out and goes lookin' for us." Sans quickly swiped up the ketchup bottle off the counter, popping the lid off and finally taking a massive gulp from the bottle before sliding it away into his jacket for later. No use letting it go to waste, after all.

“Ummmm,” Frisk mumbled, looking over at the clock on the wall, quickly reading the time. It was only a few seconds till 7:30, right when Paps had said he would come in. “About that-”

Just as the clock switched over from 7:29 to 7:30, the door to the bar busted open, the loud noise startling human and monster alike, a silence falling over the place as all turned to see who had so hastily entered their place of relaxation. Papyrus stood proudly in the doorway his scarf waving in the wind somehow, despite there not being any wind to speak of. The door itself was now nothing but splintered wood from where Papyrus had kicked it open and Grillby hung his head in defeat, already dreading another phone call to the very frustrated door repair man. The skelebro ignored all the confused and judging stares from around the bar, his focus on his brother and friends spotting them near the back. “SANS! HUMAN! DO NOT FEAR FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO HELP YOU SOLVE YOUR DIFFERENCES AND BECOME BEST FRIENDS AGAIN!” the skeleton declared loudly.

“bro?” Sans asked in confusion, an eyebrow slowly raising. He glanced over at Frisk, who offered a sheepish expression as the only means of explanation. “so, you got my bro in on this too, huh?” Sans commented before passing it off with a shrug. “heh, guess i can’t blame you, he is too cool to go without.”

“OF COURSE I AM!” Papyrus agreed, putting a hand to his chest. He quickly snapped out of his self-congratulatory praise though and returned focus to things almost as important as he was. “BUT DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" he scolded, moving his gloved hands to his protruding hips. "SANS, I DON’T KNOW ENTIRELY WHAT THE TINY HUMAN DID TO UPSET YOU BUT I’M SURE WHATEVER IT WAS IS NOT ENOUGH TO STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND. IF YOU DID STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND YOU WOULD FEEL BAD AND WHEN I WAS OUT HANGING OUT WITH FRISK YOU WOULD PROBABLY LAZE AROUND AT HOME AND I DON’T NEED ANY MORE EXCUSES FOR YOU TO BE LAZY.”

bro, it’s fine,” Sans spoke up, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “frisk and i already worked things out.”

“OH.” Papyrus paused for a second or two, letting that process, before he stuck a dramatic pose and proudly declared, “WOWIE! I’M EVEN BETTER AT THIS THEN I THOUGHT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

“you sure are, bro,” Sans agreed, pulling the bottle of ketchup out and taking a small sip.

“You’re the greatest, Papyrus!” Frisk added, smiling up at the tall skeleton.

“WELL YES I AM, THANK YOU FOR NOTICING, TINY HUMAN FRISK!” Papyrus picked Frisk and Sans up and pulled them into a loving hug. “AND YOU AND MY BROTHER, even though he is very lazy, ARE VERY GREAT AS WELL, NYEH HEH HEH!”

Frisk hugged the skelebro back while Sans just hung loosely from his arm, already fighting sleep, but still smiled nonetheless. “we’re only cool cause we hang out with you, bro,” Sans said, his words already starting to slur.

“SANS ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW? YOU JUST MADE UP WITH FRISK! WE MUST CELEBRATE ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

“you know me, bro. I’m… the best at being la….zzzzy,” Sans began to snore loudly and Papyrus let out an over dramatic sigh. Frisk covered their mouth to keep their giggles from escaping, finding the two skeletons immensely funny and entertaining. There was never a dull moment with them around.

Papyrus put a gloved hand to his forehead, before commenting bitterly, “I CAN’T TELL IF THAT WAS MEANT TO BE A PUN OR YOU ARE JUST REALLY THAT LAZY.”

“bit of both,” Sans muttered in his sleep.

“OKAY, YOU LAZY BONES, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME AND PUT YOU IN YOUR PROPER BED, SINCE MY ARM DOES NOT COUNT AS ONE,” Papyrus declared, already stomping towards the door.

“Wait, Papyrus, can’t we at least get something to eat first?” Frisk asked, sheepishly, rubbing their stomach. “I’m really hungry.”

“NOT TO WORRY, HUMAN. FOR TGE GREAT PAPYRUS ALWAYS PLANS AHEAD, NYEH HEH HEH! YOU CAN EAT MY APOLOGY SPAGHETTI ON THE WAY HOME."

Frisk made a face, trying their hardest not to let their disgust show. Although Paps’ cooking had gotten better since getting to the surface, it was still mostly inedible. And the smell of burgers and fries had already filled their nostrils, making their stomach growl in want.

Luckily, Sans already had a solution to this dilemma, his right eye lighting up blue, unseen by Papyrus, thanks to how he was draped over his bro's arm. The plate of unopened spaghetti then also turned the pale color to match the skeleton's eye, before it suddenly scooted itself across the bar and onto the floor below. There was a shattering sound heard from Grillby's side of the table, said monster watching the plate fall before whipping his head in the direction of Sans, fuming with anger.

Sans shrugged to the fire monster, hoping he would take that as an apology, while telling Papyrus, "sorry, bro. already are it all. you know apology spaghetti is my favorite spaghetti. you can taste the remorse in every bite."

Papyrus gasped, setting the human down so he could hold Sans at arms length (startling the older brother) his eyelights somehow sparkling with joy to convey just how happy he was to his brother. "OH SANS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT, NYEH HEH HEH! I ALMOST FORGOT HOW MUCH YOU ENJOYED MY COOKING! YOU ARE THE BEST BROTHER I EVER HAD!"

"heh, pretty sure i'm your only brother, too," Sans mentioned.

Papyrus began spinning them in a circle, which Sans' body instantly disliked, the place where his stomach would be groaning in protest. "OH BUT IT'S TRUE! I'M CONFIDENT EVEN IF YOU WEREN'T MY ONLY BROTHER YOU WOULD STILL BE THE GREATEST BECAUSE ONLY THE BEST BROTHER WOULD LOVE MY SPAGHETTI SO MUCH!"

Sans put a hand over his smiling mouth, trying to keep his dinner down. "paps, ya think you could stop with all the spinning before this spaghetti turns into seafood?" The skelebro asked miserably.

Papyrus did stop, looking at his brother in confusion. "WAIT, HOW WOULD IT DO THAT?"

Sans shrugged nonchalantly, despite his pale complexion, his face beading with sweat, and his groaning insides. "because, uh, y'know cause i was gonna throw it up."

Papyrus frowned at his brother muttering, "FIRST OF ALL, SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING. SECONDLY, WE ARE SKELETON MONSTERS, FOOD JUST TURNS INTO MAGIC. WE PHYSICALLY CANNOT THROW UP."

"i hear ya, bro, but the rest of me just can't stomach it," Sans replied simply.

Papyrus stared at him blankly before shouting, "OH MY GOSH, SANS! THAT ONE WASN'T EVEN CLEVER!"

"hey, you can't blame me for the bad puns, bro," Sans pleaded, although there was not a hint of remorse or regret on his face. "i'm just too excited to get to spin more time with the great papyrus."

Papyrus smiled, saying brightly, "WHY THANK YOU SANS, I KNOW I'M VERY GREAT-" However, he froze upon realizing the pun his older brother had just made. "SANS! WHY MUST YOU RUIN OUR MOMENTS WITH YOUR INFERNAL PUNS!" Papyrus stomped his foot once in anger, while Sans just rolled with laughter. He was soon having to clutch his front, his rib bones aching from the uncontrollable laughing fit.

Papyrus just rolled his eyes, knowing there was not much more he could do about his brother's obsession with terrible puns. In all honesty though, Papyrus would happily endure as many terrible jokes as it took if it meant getting to see his brother this happy. Not that he would ever, ever admit it to him.

Papyrus felt a small tug on his scarf and looked down to see Frisk staring up at him with a hopeful expression. “Soooo, does that mean I can have something to eat here?” They put their hands together in a pleading motion, begging with their eyes to try and break through the skeleton’s barriers. Papyrus avoided their eye for a moment, seeming to think it over.

From behind the three, Grillby crossed his arms, staring at Papyrus long and hard as he waited for the skeleton’s answer, the flames around his head burning a little stronger than normal. The least Papyrus could do after breaking his door (again) was buy something so that Grillby could afford to replace it. Still he didn’t voice this out loud because Papyrus was Papyrus and he really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He was as charming and naive as he was destructive. With a combo like that, Grillby figured he would be paying for a lot of repairs if it meant having the skelebros around.

Sans, however, would be getting a firm lecture from him once they were alone because his bar was not a trash can, nor should it be treated that way. Although even Sans was difficult to punish, if Grillby had a right mind he would have banned them both ages ago, but he had a soft spot for the skeletons so he tolerated all their strange antics and pranks even if he probably shouldn’t.

Finally, Papyrus seemed to reach a decision as he said in a halfhearted tone, “VERY WELL, SINCE I KNOW YOU TWO LOVE THIS PLACE, for reasons i don’t quite understand, WE MAY EAT SOMETHING HERE BEFORE GOING HOME TO MY SPAGHETTI.”

Frisk hugged Papyrus’ leg, saying excitedly, “Thanks, Papy! You're the best!”

“I KNOW, NYEH HEH HEH,” Papyrus replied warmly, giving them a loving pat on the head before sending them off to order.

Sans finally stopped laughing long enough to call over to the kid, “hey, frisk, buy me a burger would ya?”

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ATE MY SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus questioned his brother in confusion.

A few drops of sweat ran down his skull as Sans tried to think up a response to that, finally settling on, “i got a ton of room left, bro.”

“SANNSSSS….” Papyrus growled in a warning tone.

But this didn’t stop Sans at all as he finished his joke with his signature wink, “a skele-ton.”

“UGH, WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER?!” Papyrus shouted out of annoyance for his lazy brother.

“c’mon you can’t stay mad at me, bro. we both know you love my puns,” Sans said, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder.

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “I SWEAR SANS I WILL DROP YOU AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO WALK YOURSELF HOME,” the skeleton threatened, though they both knew it was just a bluff. Papyrus would never drop his one HP brother for any reason, especially over a couple of bad puns. And even if he did, Sans had his shortcuts. But the older skeleton bro knew the real reason such a threat would never come to pass.

“no, you won’t. you love carrying me around,” Sans pointed out in a nearly teasing tone.

“I ADMIT NO SUCH THING,” the tall skeleton stubbornly responded, even though they both knew the truth.

“thanks for being there for me and the kid, bro,” Sans suddenly said, his tone switching from joking to serious in an instant. “it really means a lot to me.”

“YOU ARE WELCOME, BROTHER,” Papyrus replied sweetly. But his jovial tone turned bittersweet as he added a bit sadly, “I’M JUST GLAD YOU AND THE HUMAN AREN’T FIGHTING ANYMORE. I KNOW YOU TWO ARE VERY CLOSE SO SEEING YOU UPSET AT ONE ANOTHER IS VERY DIFFICULT TO WATCH.”

Sans didn’t respond to that, just watching as Frisk cheerfully spoke to Grillby, who was busy preparing the food, their light smile and happy laugh making Sans feel hopeful again. It was strange, all the years of darkness and despair, of endless resets and depression and death, they felt so far away when Frisk smiled. It made him want to smile too and keep smiling forever. There was still a lot to do to put himself back together but it no longer felt impossible. And it was all thanks to his kid, Frisk.

“UM, I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED,” Papyrus reluctantly spoke up, cutting through Sans’ thoughts. “BUT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO WILL FIGHT OVER WHATEVER IT WAS AGAIN? BECAUSE IF SO THEN I SHOULD KEEP SOME APOLOGY SPAGHETTI READY FOR IF OR WHEN THAT HAPPENS.”

Sans thought that over for a moment, looking up at Frisk again. Grillby had just finished with their order consisting of two burgers, some fries, and a vanilla milkshake for Papyrus. The human child must have felt their eye sockets on them because Frisk turned and waved over to the pair, smiling truly and genuinely at their very dear friends. And that look was all it took to give Sans his answer. “nah, bro. i think me and frisk are done doing the same thing over and over again. it’s time to start doing somethin’ new. and i for one am really set to start livin, heh.”

A/N: Yes the last line was sorta a pun. More of an inside joke though XD

#Undertale #My writing #Sans #Frisk #Papyrus #Dunkle Sans

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chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

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WELL. Episode 3 of Word of Honor.

First of all: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so there are SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the ENTIRE SHOW. A lot of them, actually. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

So, this ep feels a little disjointed. I don’t think it actually is, not in the way the back nine are a speedrun where the writing starts to feel like it’s thisclose to coming off the rails, but it feels like it, in that we’re now getting a double handful of threads thrust at us that are only just starting to be woven together into a plot, and it’s the kind of hot mess that any fiberwork looks like before the pattern starts to show itself, particularly when you’re using 15 different color threads from jump. There’s generally a major theme or issue or overriding concept that stands out to me in each ep that, you may have noticed, gets primacy of place in these reactions, but honestly, y’all, I really struggled to figure out what that might be for this episode, because a lot of this, on re-watch, strikes me as groundwork for later developments. Wen Kexing gives us an “as you know, Bob” speech about the Amory and the Glazed Armor, we meet approx. 3.2K new characters, and I feel sort of like I should start keeping a chart of who’s supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor and who actually does have a piece of the Glazed Armor, but it’s already so confusing that it might be too late.*

ANYWAY, on re-watch, I can absolutely see the value of spending Eps 1 & 2 on introducing us to Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing and getting us pulled into their orbit, because then we have scenes we’re already invested in to maintain our interest as the background politics begin to frustratingly play out with a bunch of people we don’t know or have any investment in yet. I mean, y’all. I forgot just what an ill-tempered gremlin ZZS was in these early eps. He is so fk’n put out that these people will not let him drink himself to death in the gutter in peace! Or, you know, in occasional Nightly Nails Torment. And the exasperation from both ZZS and Chengling over WKX’s antics – both of their faces are priceless in the scene when they discover he’s the one who’s bought out all the rooms at the inn. I literally lol’d. Again. Even knowing it was coming. All of this interaction is so delightful. This is actually the ep that provoked my very first WoH keysmash flailing Tumblr post and inaugurated the “wen kexing’s thirst is practically a third character” tag. I guess the biggest throughline for this ep is that we can continue to see how everything changes when we know about their previous relationship – things like WKX’s insistence that they have a “deep bond through fate” take on additional layers of meaning rather than just sounding like some dude who’s trying to pick you up at last call. Interesting that ZZS describes WKX at one point during their push-pull conversational dance as “like a wretched soul that keeps haunting around.” You mean, like a GHOST? Like a Ghost Valley ghost? Like the almost forgotten memory of a past life ghost? ZZS wants to know why WKX keeps following him around, and it would be nice if WKX would just come clean, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

ZZS, re: Chengling: I do my best to ensure what was entrusted to me.

WKX: :makes (already! in ep 3!) yet another in a series of bad decisions not to say anything about the fact that he, himself, was in fact entrusted to ZZS:

Show: Here’s the first of many helpings of heartache to come. EAT IT. EAT IT ALL.

(Me: Well, here’s another AU idea: What would the course of this relationship be like if WKX flat-out asked ZZS what ZZS’s relationship to Four Seasons Manor was, and bare-faced claimed sanctuary as long-lost shidi Zhen Yan at this point? Because I bet there are plenty of ways that could actually go wrong. Not to mention the deliciousness of just watching them navigate a relationship shift that sudden. I feel like, at this point, WKX would have to be actively confrontational about it, would have to throw it in ZZS’s face – it would need to be something he did in the heat of anger, in order to have this pushed out past all of his fears. Like, you say that, but where were you when I needed you? Also, you think so, well what if your responsibility actually turned out to be the TERRIFYING GHOST VALLEY MASTER, what then, huh? And ZZS, still pretty actively suicidal over all of his failures, having to deal with what’s now being presented as YET ANOTHER FAILURE.)

Also, the theme of “knowing” (zhiji, the one I know) is starting to slide in sideways – we’re seeing a lot of back and forth between them asking about seeing the other’s “true face.” WKX says that he’ll tell ZZS what he (WKX) wants from him once he gets to see ZZS’s true face (LIES, it’s going to take a lot longer than that). ZZS asks to see WKX’s figurative true face, and WKX looks kind of sad and contemplative as he warns that it may be unappealing or terrifying. So, you know, we’re starting to poke at all the softest, most tender places and the issues that are going to stab me repeatedly in the heart for the rest of the show. We’re also already seeing the way Xiao Chu just layered in references throughout the script when she wrote it that call back to each other – it’s like almost any line of dialogue references three other lines of dialogue (and that’s without even getting into all of the literary references that I’m missing because I don’t have cultural context). You get things like WKX’s little speech right at the end that it’s hard to tell a ghost from a human, which on its face might be referring to the two “ghosts” that were coming for Chengling that he took care of and act as an admonishment to ZZS not to be so quick to assume they’re actually from Ghost Valley, but it also refers to WKX, himself, and specifically lays the groundwork (“someone wearing a ghost mask is not necessarily a ghost”) for his conversation in a later ep with ZZS when he asks if ZZS thinks he’s a good person, and also calls back (“someone who looks human may not be human”) to the line from earlier in this ep, itself, when WKX tells ZZS that perhaps WKX’s true face is terrifying. And so we get a nicely little wrapped package of the dichotomy of WKX and his issues. (As a somewhat related aside, A-Xiang’s little face when Zhou Zishu says all of the ghosts of Ghost Valley are full of evil (at 6:55). D: This reaction is obviously for herself, but also may be the first time she acts as proxy for Wen Kexing, as well.)

What else, what else?

So, nobody has a good opinion of the jianghu. WKX is going to be constantly all, “You killed my father, jianghu, prepare to die,” but ZZS also goes off about how it’s just about greed, hatred and ignorance, and yeah, I guess he’d have a pretty bad impression of it, when Prince Jin and Tian Chuang seemed like a better option than the pressure he was facing, trying to keep Siji Manor Sect alive back in the day. We talk a lot about WKX’s childhood trauma, because it’s so awful and right in our faces, but I don’t know how much we actually talk about the fact that ZZS was a teenager not much older than Chengling when he inherited a sect and tried desperately to keep it from being torn apart by the rest of the jianghu. I think we see some bitterness come out in the first few episodes – frankly, in this ep, he doesn’t seem to make much of a distinction between Ghost Valley and the rest of the jianghu. Also interesting that the metaphor he uses about the jianghu’s and Ghost Valley’s greed for the treasures of the Armory is “reaping without sowing,” given what we find out is actually in there in Ep 36.

We see our metaphor of light get pulled out again – this throughline strikes me as more like beads on a string than a thread, at this point, but maybe I’ll notice it more on this second time through … Anyway, WKX’s comment at 9:11 that it’s almost dawn is notable. Indeed, but is it because your plan is beginning to work and you can see the destruction of Ghost Valley and the jianghu coming down the pike, or is it because you’ve found your shixiong?

I notice WKX has color-coordinated ZZS and Chengling in the robes he bought for them, has already grouped them together, marked them as belonging to each other – he’s already subtly treating them as each other’s family. The show, with a particular lack of subtlety, also will have ZZS there to wake up Chengling from nightmares later in the end of the ep, as Chengling calls out for his dad in his sleep.

OK, Deng Kuan is the guy in charge of the Yueyang sect contingent that arrived in time to see the Mirror Lake chaos in Ep 2 and has taken charge of cleaning up the bodies in this ep. I actually overlooked him, pretty much, the first time around, but here, he’s already got Shen Shen yelling at him (in a completely ridiculous fashion) for not getting there in time to save the Mirror Lake Sect, so he’s just going to be a punching bag through the whole show, apparently. Shen Shen is wu-di, fifth (little) brother, and he refers to Chengling’s dad as si-ge, fourth (older) brother, so Shen Shen appears to be the youngest of the Five Lakes sworn brothers, leading me to believe that some of what makes him so insufferable through a lot of the show is baby brother syndrome. Also, Shen Shen and his group find the Soul Winding Threads of the Hanged Ghost … supposedly. I mean, the Hanged Ghost was the guy who we saw get got in Ep 1, soooooo …. (remember these Soul Winding Threads, btw).

*This got super long so I’m’a put this last bit under a cut, but I did try to start a running tally of who’s holding a piece of the Glazed Armor:

Each of the Five Lakes Alliance sects is supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor, yes? So, as of the end of Ep 3 (hierarchical bro-titles are from didi Shen Shen’s POV):

- Yueyang Sect, led by Gao Chong (da-ge) - presumably still has his

- Tai Hu Sect, led by Zhao Jing (er-ge) – presumably still has his

- Danyang Sect, led by Lu Taichong (san-ge, presumably) – apparently the sect has already been attacked off-screen (by “Ghost Valley?” and WHEN?), as we learn in Ep 3 that Lu-zongzhu has been killed and his remaining two tiny disciples have fled to the protection of Ao Laizi and Tai Shan Sect, one of the lesser sects, and are believed to have taken Danyang’s Glazed Armor with them. We learn this from Tao Hong, Lv Liu and Begger Gang Chief, but I notice that Gao Chong only mentions the Mirror Lake massacre as the precipitating event for the Hero’s Conference and total war on Ghost Valley – he doesn’t even mention Danyang Sect, so does Five Lakes not know about this yet?

- Mirror Lake Sect, led by Zhang Yusen (si-ge) – Zhang-zongzhu killed by “Ghost Valley” in Ep 2, Glazed Armor “missing” and speculated POST EP 2 to have been taken by Ghost Valley (but will turn up in a few eps, thanks to our little Goldbean)

- Dagu Shan Sect, led by Shen Shen (wu-di) – presumably still has his

And then we move to:

- Tai Shan Sect, led by Ao Laizi – in-world speculation is that he now has the Danyang Glazed Armor. We do see him near the end of the ep with the two tiny Danyang shidi, where he makes the intriguing comment that he’s going to follow their shifu’s last wishes and keep their Glazed Armor from falling into the hands of the Five Lakes Alliance, so what exactly was going on between San-ge and his sworn brothers at the time of his death? This group also is apparently being pursued by Shen Shen to get their Glazed Armor, and they make him sound awful. You need better PR, Shen Shen.

- Ghost Valley – POST EP 2, speculated to have taken the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor (FALSE)

NOTABLY, “Ghost Valley Master” set a lot of this chaos in motion in Ep 1 when he claimed that Hanged Ghost (who got got a scene earlier) had stolen HIS piece of the Glazed Armor, although he shouldn’t have a piece (supposedly) until after Ep 2, when he’s believed to have taken Mirror Lake’s. So, what piece would that be, exactly, Terrifying Ghost Valley Master? You wouldn’t be lying in pursuit of chaos would you? (Somewhere, WKX gasps theatrically behind his fan, and he doesn’t even know what motivated it, this time.)

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #shen shen #deng kuan #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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