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rhoorl · 8 months

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Delta Landscaping | Chapter 2

The Neighborhood Watch Begins

Series Summary: In this AU, the boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+) - not right away, but putting this here as a blanket rating

Word Count: 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: Two of the characters we meet in this chapter are widows, and there is a brief mention of how both of their husbands passed.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and amazing feedback on Chapter 1! It seriously tickles me that there are others who find this universe as hilarious and fun as I do.

Although the Triple Frontier boys are the stars of the show, I wanted to explore some of their neighbors’ stories as well. Who knows, maybe some of these characters may play a larger role down the line. One of the neighbors we meet in this chapter, Lucille, is particularly dear to me because she is loosely based on my late abuela.

Finally, one last thing before this chapter – we go slightly back in time from where we ended Chapter 1. This chapter starts a few weeks after Will and Benny move in. Ok, I’m done rambling now … back to Torrey Hills and the shenanigans of Mulefall Court. *cue the Real Housewives music bump*

“¡Mierda! I have more cilantro than I know what to do with,” Lucille says to herself as she grabs some cilantro from her herb garden. “Ay, Julio, I think I’m going to make the boys some food today. Sweet Francisco liked the frijoles I brought over last week and if I have time, I can make some empanadas. Benny practically inhaled them the last time I took them over,” Lucille chuckles to herself.

She had gotten better about not talking to Julio, it had been a year and a half since he passed, but every once in a while she would still talk to him like he was right there next to her.

Lucille and Julio Alvarez were one of the first residents to move to Torrey Hills back in the 90s. The pair saw every neighbor come and go from the block. Julio was the unofficial mayor of Mulefall Court, always inviting neighbors over to his house for get-togethers. And Lucille was the perfect hostess – the life of the party, who could carry a conversation with anyone with anyone, dance, and still manage to find enough time to put together a spread worthy of a Food Network cooking show.

Although they never had children of their own, the couple loved kids and quickly became pseudo-grandparents to the children on the block, including Megan’s son Connor.

Megan and her late husband Jacob moved to Torrey Hills when Connor was four. From the outside, they seemed like a perfect family – young, successful, good-looking, and happy.

Then, Megan’s life was drastically turned upside down one Saturday in January. Jacob went cycling early in the morning, a light mist resting above the ground. It was a weekend routine of his, to go for an early ride before he and Megan would take Connor somewhere fun like the zoo or aquarium.

Unfortunately, he did not make it home that morning. A distracted driver collided with him and he was pronounced dead at the scene. Suddenly, Megan found herself thrust into life as a single mother, trying to piece her life together while continuing to raise her son.

Lucille and Julio helped however they could – babysitting Connor when Megan had to unexpectedly work late or finding an excuse to take him on an adventure to the park or ice cream shop, any way to get him out of the house so Megan had some time to herself.

As Connor grew up, Lucille and Julio were right there. Julio, a former professional baseball player, was the one who taught Connor how to throw a baseball. He tried to influence the boy’s athletic endeavors and supported him in whatever he wanted to do, even though it did break his heart a little when Connor developed an obsession with basketball.

They celebrated birthdays, took day trips to Disney World, and Lucille and Julio were there the day Megan surprised Connor with the dog he had always dreamed of, a corgi he named Bucky after his favorite Marvel character.

The kindness, care, and compassion Lucille extended to Megan was reciprocated nearly a decade to the day after Jacob's death. After a quiet battle with cancer, Julio passed away peacefully with Lucille at his side. It was the first time in 50 years that Lucille had been away from Julio for more than a couple of days.

The couple grew up down the street from each other in Cuba, their families were longtime friends. They both immigrated around the same time, but lost contact. Julio came to the United States by himself ahead of his mother and spent a few years in Sacramento, while Lucille and her family went to Miami. After his mother finally came to the United States, Julio made the trip out to meet her in Miami. It didn’t take long for Julio and Lucille to find each other again and once Lucille turned 18, they decided to get married.

Megan and Connor stepped up for her while they were both mourning as well. They visited Lucille throughout the week, sometimes just to stop by to say hi, other times stopping by to cook a meal together, play board games, or watch the Game Show Network, Lucille always loved Family Feud.

Connor placed a lot of pressure on himself to not only be the man of his own home, but Lucille’s as well. Over the years, Julio tried to teach Connor how to do minor home repairs, to varying degrees of success. Without Julio, Connor took to YouTube and TikTok to not only learn how to fix things but also come up with little fun projects he could do to bring a smile to Lucille’s face, or Lulu as he called her. He taught himself how to make a planter box for her herbs as a surprise and tried his hand at mending her fence following a tropical storm.

Lucille and Megan went through a lot over the past 12 years experiencing a range of emotions from heartbreak to pure happiness. Also, over that time, the duo became the defacto neighborhood welcoming committee. Although they weren’t super close with every single one of their neighbors, they tried to extend some semblance of hospitality to everyone who moved in – including to the two handsome men who moved directly next door to Lucille.

Will and Benny were quick to befriend Lucille after she greeted them one day with a tray of lemonade and cookies as they were out working on their front lawn with their two equally handsome friends in tow. She found the boys were courteous neighbors, always asking if she needed help around the house.

Although she didn’t want all of the fuss, she would humor them by having them fix small things for her like changing a lightbulb or fixing a leak in her bathroom. She was careful to not give them too many jobs, keeping small tasks aside for her favorite neighbor and frequent visitor, Connor.

But, she was in awe at the complete transformation of 319 Mulefall Court from its sad, dilapidated look to a pristine, beautiful home any HGTV show would love to feature. And as much as she loved Connor, the boy oftentimes caused more problems than he fixed. So, when she was sitting on her front porch reading a book, she stopped Benny on his way home after a jog.

“Hola Ms. Lucille,” Benny waved to his neighbor. He had taken his shirt off during his run, tucking it into the waistband of his athletic shorts, so he quickly slipped it back on as he made his way up her driveway.

“I speak English, Benjamin,” Lucille snorted. She liked to tease him about speaking Spanish, but she was actually quite impressed with how much Spanish Benny actually understood. When she would kid with Francisco and Santiago, she found Benny laughing along with them, following the conversation. He definitely knew more than he let on, but was always a bit apprehensive about trying to speak, especially around his friends.

“Sorry, I have to practice when I can. I just … I feel like I’ve learned more living next to you these last few weeks than all the years I’ve known Fish and Pope,” he laughed nervously as he took off his hat and ruffled his hair.

“I’m just playing with you, mi cielo. Besides, those two probably just taught you all of the bad words,” she winked.

“You’re not wrong there,” he smiled. “Hey, when I was in the back yesterday I noticed another part of your fence that looks like it may need some mending. Want me to come over sometime this week?”

“Oh you don’t have to bother with all of that, it’s fine,” she waved him off.

“C’mon, I can’t just sit there and let you have a hole in your fence. Just, let me fix it.” He leaned against the railing on her porch.

She couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes he was giving her. She had to give it to him, he was a charmer.

“Ok, but on one condition,” she raised her eyebrow as he nodded. “You have to have Connor help you. The boy could stand to have some nice young men to look up to and learn a thing or two from.”

Benny blushed. He didn’t feel like he was a person anyone should ever look up to, not with his past and the things he had done and seen. He didn’t quite know how to respond to Lucille.

She sensed a darkness flicker over the man in front of her. Although she had only known Benny for a couple of weeks, she always saw him as a happy-go-lucky, energetic, yet sweet and considerate man. But seeing how he reacted to her comment, she knew there was something that troubled him.

“Besides,” she decided to cut the awkward silence. “He spends too much time with me, and as hip as I am, I can’t quite relate to him all of the time anymore. It was easier when he was younger.”

“I gotcha, Ms. Lucille. I’ll talk to Megan about getting Connor over here with us and we’ll all fix the fence as…um…un equipo,” he smiled.

_______________________

The next morning on her walk with Bucky, Megan spotted Benny in the garage cleaning the lawn mower.

"Careful or we may all end up hiring you to do our lawns too!" She called over to him with a wink.

He was crouched down facing away from her, a wet patch forming on the small of his back from the sweat. He stopped what he was doing and turned around to see who was talking. Seeing it was Megan (and Bucky), he quickly got up, wiped his hands on a towel, and walked to the front of the driveway.

"Oh hey Mrs. Me- I mean, hey Megan! Ha, I figure you all already have people to do that."

“By people, you mean a 16-year-old who I pay in pizza rolls and video games,” she laughed. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I like what you've done with the place, the flowers are really pretty."

Benny was proud of the work he and the boys had done, so any excuse to hear compliments made him grin from ear to ear.

"Thanks, it's been a fun…distraction. I like having projects, I’m actually going to help Ms. Lucille this week and fix her fence with the boys. Do you think that’s something Connor may want to help with? I heard he’s kinda handy. I don’t want to creep in on his territory…”

"Uh oh, are you going to make me the one to tell him there is some hot new competition on the block doing home repairs!"

Benny blushed and took his hat off briefly to comb through his hair before putting it back on.

“I think it’s nice that you want to help Lucille. God love him, but Connor tries to help but he isn’t as … skilled as you guys. He’s had to learn everything by himself.”

“I’m happy to teach him – I’m not a professional by any means, I leave that to my cousins,” Benny cracked a smile. “But I know my way around some tools, enough to be handy.”

“Yea, I think he’d like that. Since Julio passed, Connor doesn’t really have too many men to talk to besides his coach. I think he’d like to … I don’t know, talk with you guys? No pressure or anything, I’m not looking to impose.”

Benny smiled, knowing there was a lot left unsaid. He hadn’t asked too much about either Megan or Ms. Lucille’s past, he just knew both women were widows. But he knew even less about Connor. From what he had seen, he seemed like a good kid, he clearly was if Megan raised him.

“Cool, well maybe between him and the guys and me we can get it done faster so he can go back to playing video games or whatever the hell else kids do these days,” he chuckled. “I’ll text you when we figure out which day we’re going to do it, we’ll probably need to make a Home Depot run or something so maybe he can come with us for that too?”

"Awesome, hey thanks. I think he’ll find it fun," she smiled back at him and turned to continue her walk.

"Wait!" He called, wanting to catch her before she walked away.

"I have something for Bucky, hold up."

He jogged back to the opened garage to a container marked "treats" and pulled out a Milkbone bar.

"This ok to give him?" He showed Megan the treat as Bucky perked up, his little legs going tippy tap on the pavement.

"Oh shit, now he's going to make a beeline here every walk," she sighed.

___________________________

Later that day, Megan and Connor came over to visit Lucille after she called saying she had some leftover empanadas, one of Connor’s weaknesses. As the duo walked towards Lucille’s, Megan took stock of the cars parked in the 319 Mulefall Court driveway, thanks in part to Connor who helped her identify the makes and models: a red Jeep Wrangler, a black TransAm, a green Colorado truck, and a white Volvo C70 convertible.

“Looks like it’s a full house over there, wonder if they’re having a party,” Megan nodded toward the driveway. “Speaking of, I was talking to Benny, he asked if maybe you wanted to go over and help the guys with a project at Lulu’s this week.”

“What project? She hasn’t told me anything needed to be fixed,” Connor looked confused.

“Oh, he mentioned it was something about her fence – I guess he can see it from his backyard. Could be fun for you to have some help? Could learn something…”

Megan hadn’t had a chance to broach the subject with her son and she was a little unsure how he would react.

Connor took a second before responding. “Y-yea, I mean. If they don’t mind.”

“Oh no, it was Benny’s idea!”

“Uh, ok. Yea, that’s cool.”

Megan smiled to herself, seeing her son walk with a little more pep in his step at the idea that the four older guys wanted to maybe spend time with him.

As they walked into Lucille’s house, they smelled more than just leftover empanadas. Megan rolled her eyes. She should have known better. Rather than just “a few of leftover empanadas” Lucille had made a whole spread.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here, Lulu!”

Lucille came from around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron with a big grin on her face.

“I just whipped up a few things, it’s simmering, and should be done soon. Ven mijito,” she motioned to Connor to sit down as she grabbed a plate. “I made empanadas de picadillo, you’re favorite.”

“Yes!” Connor eagerly sat at the table, as Lucille put the plate in front of him.

“Megan dear, would you mind coming upstairs with me? I’m sorting through some old jewelry and I was wondering if you wanted anything.”

“Uh, sure...” she knew Lucille was up to something because Megan hardly wore jewelry.

The two ladies made their way up the stairs and into Lucille’s bedroom, straight towards the two large windows that formed the corner of her room.

“Do you keep your jewelry in the window frames?” Megan snorted. She really had no idea what Lucille was up to.

“No tonta, something better is over here,” she motioned out of the window.

Walking over to the windows, Megan saw a perfectly unobstructed view into the next-door neighbor’s backyard where four men were relaxing and enjoying a chill pool day. She quickly scanned to see what they all were up to.

Frankie was by the grill, beer in hand. He opened the grill to flip some of the burgers and skewers, taking his signature hat off to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It didn’t look like he had gotten in the pool yet. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt with blue and green striped swim trunks and some flip flops. He was bobbing his head to the music playing from the bluetooth speakers perched on the porch.

Santiago was laying on a pool float in black swim trunks, a little shorter in length than Frankie’s. He had his sunglasses on so it was hard to tell if he was taking a nap or not, but he had one arm folded behind his head and the other one resting on his stomach.

The Miller brothers were throwing a football around in the yard. Will, dressed in just red swim trunks, stayed by the back porch near Frankie as his brother, donned in hot pink swim trunks and a black backward baseball cap, ran different routes across the backyard. After urging his brother to throw a harder pass, Benny bobbled it, resulting in the ball landing in the pool, splashing Santiago – who clearly had been taking a nap.

Lucille’s windows were closed, so they couldn’t hear what the boys were saying but it was clearly some good-natured ribbing. Santiago swam to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out of the water and then promptly chasing after Benny, tackling him in the lawn as they laughed. Eventually the two got up and headed back toward the porch, but as they passed the pool Santiago pushed Benny in – his final revenge for having his nap interrupted.

“How long have you been holding out on me Lulu?” Megan smirked, knocking her shoulder into the older woman.

“It’s a pretty nice show isn’t it.” she giggled. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Taking a picture for Katie. I think she may have a crush on Will and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't report a discovery like this?" Megan smirked.

Katie was the newest member of the neighborhood until the Millers moved in. After her divorce, she packed her life up and decided to move to Florida on her own. She wanted to escape the cold and, more importantly, anything that would remind her of her ex. Since she worked from home, it seemed like an easy decision.

She originally had her sights set on 319 Mulefall Court and its expensive backyard. She didn't mind projects, but that house was a little too far gone for her so she decided on the other fixer-upper on the block, 323 Mulefall Court.

Megan liked Katie and quickly brought her into the fold, including the coveted neighborhood group chat. Though Megan didn’t date too often, she found herself going out occassionally with Katie, acting as her wingwoman. Megan also tried setting Katie up with her coworkers and friends of friends, but nobody ever seemed to catch Katie’s eye.

But, when Megan met Will she just knew she had to introduce him to Katie. They were both good looking, so she had no doubts there would be a physical attraction. For the little she knew of Will, he seemed to be considerate and respectful and although he was more reserved than his boisterous little brother, he had a quirky, dry sense of humor. Katie was also a bit on the quiet side, but she was a lot of fun once she felt comfortable.

Megan: *sends photo*

"This is going to be good … let's see what they say," she smirked, showing Lucille her phone.

"Ay díos mio. You all are too much!"

"I see David typing, I knew he would be the first one!"

David: Where are you, why didn’t you invite me, and can I come?

Tyson: 👀 ok, but seriously….

Olivia: Megan!! A warning next time, holy shit the kids had my phone!

Melissa: oh my…

Megan: 🤭 I just had to. This is Lucille's view.

Tyson: Damn, Ms. Lucille! I see you with a front row to the eye candy! 👏🏼

David: Is it just him out there or are the others there too? I'm trying to see the one that always wears the hat off. 🥵

Melissa: Which one, D? There are two who always have hats on.

David: The one with the dark hair.

Tyson: Jesus Christ, David. How many times do I have to tell you his name is Frankie?!

David: Yessssss 😍

Megan: *sends photo*

Megan: Just for you D! 😘

David: PAPI!! 😍

David: You're a real one Megan!

Megan: Katie?! Are you there? You've been quiet …

Katie: I don't even know what to say … 😂

Melissa: Oooo Katie, do you think Will is hot?!

Olivia: Oh, Katie! Please say yes. If I wasn't married I'd climb that man like a tree!

Katie: You guys!! Ms. Lucille is on this group chat!

Lucille: Mi amor, I have eyes.

David: Hell yes you do queen!!

David: So when can we come over?!

Katie: We shouldn't spy on them…c'mon…

David: Boooo

Megan: Well, I have thoughts. They’re coming over to fix Lucille’s fence this week. It wouldn’t be spying if we are already over here for a…happy hour? Also thinking we invite them to a pool party of our own. 😉

Melissa: I love that idea!! We are happy to host the party, we just finished the pool this week!

Olivia: Oh that would be awesome, anything to tire out the kids so they actually sleep.

Tyson: Yess! What a great way to get to know our neighbors … right? I mean, we want to make sure they feel verrry welcome here. 😜

Megan: It’s a plan!

Megan: *changes the name of the group chat to “Neighborhood Watch”

David: LOL! Wtf is Neighborhood Watch?

Megan: It’s for Olivia - that way when she sees this chat she knows there may be something not kid friendly on it lol

Olivia: 🤦🏾‍♀️ You all are too damn much!!

Megan: Ok, it’s settled. I’ll let you know when the guys are going to come over to fix the fence. When you're all here we can plan the party. Now, got to go! Lucille and I are going to get back to our view!

David: Ughhh of all days for us to go to the beach. Thanks a lot Ty!

Tyson: Love you too babe!

“This is going to be fun,” Megan said triumphantly over to Lucille who was just shaking her head as she was reading through the texts.

Next Chapter

A/N: We’ll learn more about the other members of the group chat throughout the next couple of chapters.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!! Apologies if I accidentally left you off. I added everyone below manually and may have missed someone … just let me know!

@goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @patti7dc / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beholdbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @primosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @legendary-pink-dot

#delta landscaping #the neighborhood watch #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic

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yaeggravate · 3 months

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Unraveling Princess Fischl

So I recently finished studying Princess Fischl in a lab and the results I got were kinda crazy.

As a disclaimer, I do this just for fun. I like connecting dots and solving puzzles. But I'd rather you draw your own conclusions. In this post I will try to dissect the mysteries surrounding the Prinzessin. And you really can't talk about Fischl without including Kaeya. I've even got a surprise guest star for you.

WARNING: this post is VERY long, click on that Read More at your own risk, otherwise you'll be stuck scrolling forever.

For simplicity's sake Princess Fischl will be referred to as Fischl while playable Fischl will be demoted to F.

PART 1: MIDSUMMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

Most of this will use the books Legend of the Shattered Halberd and Flowers for Princess Fischl as a source. These books are authored by someone named Mr. Nine. The books are published by Yae Publishing House. So keep in mind there's a non-zero percent chance Mr. Nine is actually just a certain Nine-Tailed Fox.

F's alternate outfit is called Immernachtstraum. This is a reference to Shakespeare's play Midsummer Night's Dream. In German the play is called Ein Sommernachtstraum. So you can see the similarities (Immernachtstraum means Eternal Night's Dream.)

Kaeya is in part based on the Indian changeling prince from the same play. The character Oberon, the Fairy King, is the french derivative of Alberich. The play itself is basically about people getting into Shenanigans so absurd it might as well be a dream. Oberon and his wife Titania are actually key players in quite a bit of different media… But as much as I want to delve into that, this isn't a Kaeya post.

Just remember for now that Titania is the Fairy Queen.

In the book Flowers for Princess Fischl, there is a mention of a Sommernachtgarten. It is described as a Domain possessed by someone highly skilled in the magical arts. Sommernachtgarten seems to have existed in Teyvat. The domain Midsummer Courtyard, which has the Thundering Fury set, tells us the Sommernachtgarten was buried underground.

The domain is located in Starfell Valley. It's nearby Starfell Lake and Starsnatch Cliff. Starfell Lake is said to have been formed by a fallen star.

Fischl is also equated to a star that fell down. Notably, in F's birthday letters, and in Legend of the Shattered Halberd.

Birthday Letter: Day of Destiny… On the day of a sacred star's descent from the depths of the night sky into this realm, I, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, have asked Oz to cross the ocean and bring, me exotic treasure.

LotSH Vol. 1 The story was that an iron meteorite had fallen from the sky five or six years ago, and convention dictated that as nature's treasure it belonged to the imperial family.

Starsnatch Cliff is the only place where Cecilia flowers grow. These flowers have a triquetra shape, which is similar to Kaeya's passive talent Glacial Heart. Kaeya has been featured with these flowers in his birthday arts, and even invites the Traveler to go see the flowers with him.

Alice: With enough bombs placed in proper positions, even huge cliffs like Starsnatch would crumble into dust in a second. With flatter terrain, Mondstadt would surely look much nicer. But that unctuous Cavalry Captain rejected my proposal instantly. He even asked me to stay away from Starsnatch Cliff.

Furthermore, when Alice proposed to blow Starsnatch Cliff up, Kaeya denied her request and warned her to never go near there again… Starsnatch Cliff also overlooks the Nameless Island which is shrouded in mist and invisible on the map.

菲谢尔 = Fischer = Fischl

Fischl's name might be a reference to the Fisher King from Arthurian legends. One name of the Fisher King is Amfortas. In the game Anfortas is the name of the Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter; he's thee Alberich who stepped up as Regent King when Irmin was indisposed.

Perhaps Fischl was the original "Fisher King" and the kings who came after her, like Irmin and Anfortas, fulfilled her role. …But this would imply Fischl was once the ruler of Khaenri'ah. That would be crazy, right? Right, guys?

PART 2: THE PRINCESS OF JUDGEMENT

When I was analyzing the 8-pointed star, I discovered these 8 points could actually correspond to the Guardians of the Eight Directions in Hinduism.

For some reason, ascension gem stones are named after Hindu gods (with the exception of Electro). This isn't the case in the original Chinese naming however.

Still, I tried to mix and match the gemstones to a direction.

North: Kubera, The God of Fortune -> GEO

South: Yama, The God of Justice and Death -> ???

East: Indra, The Lord of Heaven and God of the Weather, Sky, Rain, and Storms -> ELECTRO

West: Varuna, God of the Seas, Oceans, and Rain -> HYDRO

Northeast: Ishana, God of Birth, Death, Resurrection, and Time -> DENDRO

Southeast: Agni, God of Fire -> PYRO

Northwest: Vayu, God of the Winds and Air -> ANEMO

Southwest: Nirṛta, God of Death, Sorrow, and Decay -> CRYO

Hydro (Varunada), Pyro (Agnidus) and Anemo (Vayuda) gems already have the same names as the Hindu gods so that was easy. The Electro gemstone Vajrada is named after a sword but it belongs to Indra, God of Weather, Rain and Storms.

That just left me with Cryo (Shivada), Geo (Prithiva) and Dendro (Nagadus). Ishana is the God of Birth, so I'll assign him Dendro. Kubera is the God of Fortune which is Geo because Mora.

Now Cryo is a bit puzzling, because it's named after Shiva, who in Java and Bali Hinduism is actually the direction in the center. Some crazy implications here for our buddy the Tsaritsa because Shiva is the God of Destruction within the Trimurti, a trinity of deities. The other two are Brahma, God of Creation and Vishnu, God of Preservation.

In Java Hinduism, Brahma and Vishnu would correspond to the directions Zenith (South) and Nadir (North). Whether this is hinting at something about the nature of the Tsaritsa is unclear. When you see Three Deities you think Moon Sisters, right? However, we can't rule out the possibility that Genshin decided to mix these deities up. Let's just spare ourselves the headache for now and forget about this. This is a Fischl analysis after all.

So instead, let's have a look at the Cryo gemstone's original name in Chinese. The stone is simply called Grieving Ice.

哀叙冰玉: Grieving Ice

Since Nirriti is the God of Sorrow, I decided to assign them Cryo. Now we are left with one deity, Yama: The God of Justice and Death. Well, it can't be Hydro, because we already assigned them to a God. So it has to be someone else.

Fischl's title is the Prinzessin der Verurteilung. Which translates into Princess of Judgement. According to Legend of the Shattered Halberd and F's voicelines, Fischl's role was to act as a judge.

More About Fischl: I To condemn the guilty, to sanctify the just, and to draw all castaway dreams into the embrace of the infinite Immernachtreich. This is the birthright of the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, and her burden. None may gainsay it.

What's interesting is that Fischl uses magical arrows to shoot down the "enemies of fate".

About Us: Shooting Down the World Beast Should this world, like a beast prowling in the night, covet your dreams, then I, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, shall fell it with my ensorcelled arrows of judgment!

Feelings About Ascension: Intro My magic arrow cries out my holy name as it streaks through the night, praying that the violet lightning of retribution shall strike the enemies of fate down from the skies!

On the 8-pointed star, there's an arrow pointing upwards. Kaeya, Clothar and Halfdan's stars on their outfits and even F herself have the arrow pointing downwards.

The achievement you get when you find this door is called "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here". Which is a reference to the entrance to Hell in Dante's Inferno.

The Immernachtreich is described as a place where all things will eventually flow into. Immernachtreich literally translates into Eternal Night Realm…

Flowers for Princess Fischl: Phantasmagoria Every good, bright and noble thing must eventually fall to inexorable entropic destruction, and the final destination of the universe is the realm-in-waiting of the Prinzessin, Immernachtreich. This is the fate of all worlds, of the universe, and all who live in it.

In the Immernachtreich Apokalypse, Leon calls Fischl the Soteria.

Soteria means salvation, preservation. It's used as an epithet for Persephone and Hecate. Persephone was forcibly made Queen of the Underworld, and Hecate is also known as the Goddess of the Underworld and Witchcraft…

Look, I don't want to claim Fischl was the secret 8th Archon or anything, because lest we forget Khaenri'ah was a godless nation who would've been Fischl's enemies. But why then would Khaenri'ah have this giant star referencing the 8 deities as their emblem in the first place? Seems a bit counterintuitive. I don't have the answers for now, and perhaps the 8th "archon" was simply Irmin. Or maybe it's not even representing a god but an element or a direction.

Regarding Oz, he is a not so subtle reference to Odin/Irmin but is also a reference to the Wizard of Oz. In the first book, it was revealed this wizard was literally just some guy pretending to be powerful. Eventually Oz starts working as an advisor for the true ruler of Oz, Princess Ozma, who is the inspiration behind Fischl. We'll get back to that later.

This Oz's full name is Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs. OZ is actually short for Oscar Zoroaster. Zoroaster is referenced in Flowers for Princess Fischl.

In a distant causality, if the philosopher Zarathustra was not chosen, then the opera writer would have gained victory in the contest over the will of the world.

This does make you wonder if Irmin really was the true ruler of Khaenri'ah and if he even existed the way we believe he did. Perhaps Fischl got Irminsnapped and now everyone believes Irmin was always the One-Eyed King.

Of course this is all my personal speculation and I could be way off here.

Wait, before we move on to next section, I want to point out something that always gets ignored:

Kaeya and Mona, when they cast their bursts, summon the same 8-pointed star. This is unique to them alone. Could there be a connection between Khaenri'ah and witchcraft? Or is either Kaeya or Mona an outlier?

PART 3: HEXENZIRKEL

In the trailer Mage's Teaparty, there are eight witches shown. However, we only know the names of six witches, and there is a chair missing at the table.

There is a slideshow where the figures of the eight witches are shown, minus Andersdottir who is represented by the book The Boar Princess.

Observe the witch on the broom and the little witch. The design of the little witch is similar to the design of a famous fictional character who got pulled into another world: Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz books.

Dorothy is illustrated as having twin tails and wearing a farm girl dress. Dorothy's character was influenced by the character Alice, from the Wonderland books.

Originally I assumed Alice Genshin might be based on book Alice. However, it's the Narzissenkreuz quest that's based on the Wonderland books and Mary-Ann who takes the role of Alice.

With that in mind, could Alice Genshin actually be more of a Dorothy inspired character instead?

Now, Dorothy had a very good friend, called Princess Ozma. Ozma seems to be the inspiration behind Fischl.

So who is Ozma? I only have the Wiki to go on because I'm not about to read 40 books, but by the sound of it, Ozma is the current ruler of the realm of Oz. She is the daughter of a human king and a Fairy Queen. Her mother Lurline was the one who created Oz and turned it into a Fairy country.

Ozma took it one step further and separated Oz entirely from the outer realms making it invisible to outsiders. Everyone who enters Oz never ages.

If you're an F main I'm sure you know by now Fischl created another universe and founded paradise.

Now I want you to take a look at the witches portrayed in these circles. There are two witches holding a sphere. In F's cutscene from the Summertime Odyssey event, she is also holding a sphere which contains the Immernachtreich which you can see in the header image of this post and below.

You might think a glowing sphere represents a crystal ball to scry in, but that poses a problem since known prophet Barbeloth is probably represented by the witch holding a waterdrop, which is Hydromancy. So the glowing sphere might not necessarily mean a prophetess.

As for the identity of the other witch with the globe, I believe this could be Alice, since she was the one who created the domain/dreamscape of the Veluriyam Mirage. It could also be Rhinedottir who is creating something in a flask.

So Orb = Domain/Realm/Creation

Furthermore F's specialty food is Die Heilige Sinfonie, which has a Magic Hexagram painted on top… (Die Heilige Sinfonie translates into The Holy Symphony.) As mentioned before, the Sommernachtgarten could only be created by someone with great magical powers…

Magic Circles is Ceremonial or Arcane Magic, and according to a note left by Master Ruggiero in Bravais' study, Arcane Arts originated from a pre-Remurian civilization.

So someone must have taught humans magic. Might sound obvious, but it begs the question of WHO?

PART 4: FREYJA

To answer this question we need to dip our toes into Norse mythology. As you know, Odin is Irmin.

There was a war between two groups of gods: the Aesir and the Vanir.

Eventually they had enough and decided to exchange hostages as a peace offering. The goddess Freyja, originally part of the Vanir, joined the Aesir which would be Odin's group. As a sacrificial priestess, she was the one who taught the Aesir dark magic, which included seeing into the future. The implication here then is that Odin was taught black magic by Freyja.

This magic is known as seiðr. Seiðr is derived from *soi-to- which means rope/string. The distaff, a tool used for spinning wool, is associated with dark magic. There are images of women riding distaffs as a broom, similar to a witch riding a broomstick. To quote the Wiki: "In any case, the string relates to the "threads of fate", that the Nornir spin, measure, and cut. " Wait, that sounds familiar:

F, joining the party voice line: The threads of your fate lie in my hands!

Scholars suspect Freyja is the same person as Gullveig who was involved in the Aesir-Vanir war. Gullveig was attacked by the Aesir with spears; she died and was reborn three times. When Fischl tried to visit the Kingdom of Eternal Twilight she was also attacked by its people and "shed her blood on the sacred emblem" whatever that means. It was Oz who saved her, pledging his loyalty to her.

Freyja sometimes is conflated with another goddess named Frigg. There has been much debate whether or not these two goddesses stem from the same deity. Frigg is part of the Aesir and usually Odin's wife.

I mention this because in the book Hex and Hound, one of the characters is named after Frigg: Nottfrigga. This book is about two twin witches sharing the same body. In the book we find out that they were the daughters of a powerful witch, but witches are unable to keep more than one offspring of the same generation. This led to Nottfrigga's twin sister Magdalene eventually dying, and her using magic to sustain her sister inside a magic bracelet.

In Norse mythology, Nott is the personification of night. Nott's father is named Narfi. This really got my attention, because Fischl's full name is Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort. (Fischl of the Castle in the Sky Narfidort.)

In the Hexenzirkel teaser, every witch is represented by a teacup (or in the case of Andersdottir, an inkbottle) but the saucer next to Nicole's teacup is empty. Since this saucer belongs to the same teaset this could mean one of the missing witches is Nicole's twin sister or a relative.

So what could Fischl's role be in all this? Perhaps she's one of the twin sisters, or their mother. Perhaps she's even an ancestor. ...Or completely unrelated to them and I'm full of shit.

PART 5: THE HARBINGERS

F's theme shares a leitmotief with the Fatui Harbingers theme.

F's theme: Sieh an, mein Sommernachtgarten! Signora's theme: Saltatio Favillae

Obviously this means Fischl is Capitano.

Composers don't do these things by accident. This is hinting at something. Either Fischl is connected to the Harbingers, was/is one of the Harbingers, or she is indeed the Tsaritsa.

Which is not as crazy as it sounds.

In Legend of the Shattered Halberd, Fischl possessed someone else's body. And if she is Freyja's equivalent, who died three times, then it's possible she could've been reborn as someone else. In the book, it was Mir who summoned Fischl into Weiyang's body and sacrificed his eye to appease her. Pierro is working for the Tsaritsa and has his right eye covered for reasons unknown. Having been a royal mage who would have had access to Khaenri'ah's restricted library, perhaps it was Pierro who summoned Fischl into the Tsaritsa's body.

The Tsaritsa is collecting the seven Gnoses, Fischl had to collect seven of the nine Ominous Swords to repair the Divine Halberd, which would be herself. She already had two of them in her possession… Could also be that the Tsaritsa is trying to revive her. This would imply Fischl is the Third Descender. Since she came from another world, this is not impossible.

The Fisher King, Fischl's possible namesake, was struck with a wound that could only be healed by a "pure fool" who would ask him the right question. ...Fatui is Latin for fools. If the Tsaritsa really is/is possessed by Fischl, then creating an organization of fools starts to make sense: the fools are her saviors.

This could also connect to the empty 10th seat within the Harbingers. The vacant spot could be a reference to the Siege Perilous, which was an empty seat reserved for the one successful in obtaining the Holy Grail by way of saving the Fisher King.

Usually this is accomplished by Percival, who later finds out his mother is the sister of the Fisher King. In the story, Percival keeps failing to return to the kingdom of the Holy Grail since it is an otherworldly place. Does that not remind you of Kaeya trying to find Khaenri'ah but failing halfway through?

Going back to Princess Ozma, an evil witch cast a spell on her that turned her into a little boy named Tippetarius. This was done to prevent Ozma from ascending to the throne. Tip was unaware of his true identity until he was transformed back into Ozma.

tippet /tĭp′ĭt/ noun A covering for the shoulders, as of fur, with long ends that hang in front.

As noted in The Marvelous Land of Oz, Chapter 23, Tip has brown colored skin.

…Kaeya, blink twice if you need help.

As a staunch hater of things that don't make sense, I highly doubt this means Kaeya is Fischl; the game would never go there. Perhaps being "Fischl" is simply hinting towards the fact that he will become one of the Fisher Kings.

That would certainly explain this random hangout ending.

Now, here's where things get really crazy.

Remember Anfortas? The Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter who took over as regent after Irmin became indisposed? At the time of writing, Anfortas's fate remains unknown.

As said before, Anfortas is the name of the Fisher King in Arthurian legends. Fischl's name might've been a nod to that.

But it gets weirder.

T.S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land combines Arthurian legends with the legend of the Fisher King. In it, he associates the Fisher King with the tarot card Three of Staves.

The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.

…We have seen this symbol somewhere before. On the constellation wheel of the Fatui Harbingers. By process of elimination this constellation belongs to Il Capitano.

👏🏽👏🏽CONGRATULATIONS CAPITANO YOU ARE KAEYA'S NEXT TOP GRANDPA 🎉

Kidding of course, but I doubt this is a coincidence. This doesn't necessarily mean they are the same person, maybe Capitano simply mindmelded with Anfortas. It's a fantasy game, everything is possible at this point.

Wait a minute… three nails, three deaths… Uhhh maybe Fischl really did turn into Capitano.

👏🏽👏🏽CONGRATULATIONS CAPITANO YOU ARE PRINCESS DIANA'S NEXT REINCARNATION 👸🏼

PART 6: THE THIEF AND THE MAGE

Alright, for this section I want us to keep in mind the following things:

Fischl is a fallen star

Fischl may have been a mage

Fischl could be connected to Irmin and thus Khaenri'ah

The play of the Veluriyam Mirage is written by Zosimos. This play stars Kaeya as a Thief, Klee as a Mage and Idyia as a last minute heroine added to the story.

You see, Zosimos originally wanted to write a story based on rumors he'd heard about a thief and a mage. This means the play might not be entirely fictional. The problem is that Zosimos combined Idyia's backstory with the story of the Thief and the Mage, making it hard to tell which bits belong to Thief's story.

We know at least that Alice was the mage who helped Idyia. But what about the Mage who helped the Thief? Who was she? Could it have been Alice or someone else?

For that we need to consider the character Kaeya was playing. It's unknown who he is, but if Klee was playing her mom then it stands to reason Kaeya must've been playing someone connected to him. Before you get excited, this does not necessarily mean someone related to him by blood. Could also just be someone from Khaenri'ah. Heck, we don't even know the gender of the mage, for all we know they could've been a man.

Now, the soundtrack that plays during Kaeya's part is called Towers of Afrasiab. This name has come up before. In the play of Kaeya's hangout, the character he plays opposite of is called Frasiyav. The location of the Khaenri'ahn door is called Hangeh Afrasiyab.

I personally suspect Afrasiyab is either Irmin or the founder of Khaenri'ah.

Afrasiyab is a character from the Persian epic, the Shahnameh. Afrasiyab lived in an underground iron palace held up by hundreds of columns. (If you look at the architecture in Hangeh Afrasiyab, you'll see little reliefs of men holding up a ceiling above them.) Afrasiyab lacked the divine royal glory known as Khvarena and was obsessed with obtaining it. In the play they say Frasiyav lost because he lacked the blessing of god…

I mean it can't get any more obvious than that. So this could mean the dude from Kaeya's hangout was Irmin. Which does raise a bunch of questions, such as who is the identity of the Prince in this play? And why were they at war?

Should be noted in the hangout's play, Frasiyav offered hostages as a peace offering. Kind of reminds me of the war between the Aesir and Vanir… Also, Kaeya's character Prince Qubad is based on Siyavash who eventually married into Afrasiyab's family…

Towers of Afrasiyab then could refer to Khaenri'ah. In the Veluriyam play, the Thief is also from a dark realm. I hesitate making the assumption that this guy is Irmin or Kaeya's pirate grandpa so I will refer to him as simply the Thief.

In the play, the Thief witnesses a shooting star falling from the sky and follows it. However, what he finds is not a star but a young woman. Well, we know Fischl was also a star that fell down. And we know Fischl visited the Kingdom of Eternal Twilight and got bodied for her efforts. Oz took her under his wings and saved her life.

If the Thief encountered the Mage this way it would explain why the Mage helped him as a way to repay him. Perhaps the Mage taught him Arcane arts or helped him protect the "Dark Realm", who knows?

If this Mage really was Fischl and the Thief someone connected or related to Kaeya it would explain why Fischl and Kaeya seem to be connected.

About Kaeya F: His nature is obscure, his fate a mystery, and his speech a vexing tapestry woven of both fact and fiction… Perhaps he and I share the burden of mystical sight…

About Fischl Kaeya: Hmm? You think Fischl having one eye covered is very fitting given her title of Prinzessin der Verurteilung. Hahaha, if that's the case, that must also make me a descendant of some kind of former royal lineage, no?

Furthermore, in Legend of the Shattered Halberd, Fischl's partner in crime, the man who summoned her, is named Mir. This is a reference to Mimir, the severed head from Norse mythology who acted as an advisor to Odin.

Mr. Nine states Fischl was attracted to Mir… and that Oz was more of a familiar of Fischl.

In Wagner's opera Der Ring des Nibelungen, Mimir is known as Mime, the brother of Alberich.

....😮‍💨

Well, I have to say, even after all of that, I am completely stumped. If anyone knows what's going on, let me know, because I for one would love to know WHAT'S GOING ON FOR ONCE. GIVE IT UP FOR KNOWING WHAT'S GOING ON

#genshin impact #princess fischl #kaeya alberich #lore bytes #.txt

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salmonight · 5 months

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Free Title Ideas Pt.2

And here is the second part with more mostly likely less titles but enjoy!

(I still cant categorize so take them with apinch of salt)

Low Mood:

Who Mourns an Adonis?

Sinking Sand (Castles)

I Carve(d) These Letters Across My Chest

Smoking Roses

Whispers of the Forgotten

Perfectly Tainted

I Like Dead Things (They Cannot Hurt Me)

A Melody of Misfortune

Echoes of Loss

Crack:

Fake It ‘till You Make It

Honk if You're Scared

Live Fast Die Hot

I Know What I’m Doing — and Other Lies I Tell Myself

True Tales of Bodies(Mostly Mine)

Pinatas are Jerks

Food: A Love Story

You Are Old: Sobering Affirmations for Your Rapidly Disappearing Life

Paranoid-in-Chief

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to [insert activity]

How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Survival Hacks

Learning to Outlive Your Friends and Other Tales of Immortality

Hey, Coffee

Smoking 101: A Beginner's Guide

From Starbucks to Hell: The Demonic Coffee Cravings of Everyday Joes

When Your Summoning Circle Turns Out to Be a DIY Project Disaster From Hell

From Door-to-Door Sales to Demon Summoning: Unexpected Career Paths for the Ambitious

Demonic DIY: Home Improvement Tips for the Dark Side

Delving into the Depths of Dorkness

The Great Demonic Cacophony: A Symphony of Summoning Shenanigans

A Demon Summoner's Guide to Mayhem: How to Summon Chaos and Confusion

Demonic Diversions: When Summoning Turns into Side-Quests

From Grounds to Gateway: How to Open a Portal to Hell with a Cup of Joe

Starbucks, Satan, and Specters: A Caffeine-Fueled Guide to Demonology

The Dark Side of Caffeine: How to Summon Demons and Make the Perfect Latte

Coffee and Demons: A Match Made in... Purgatory?

A Demonic Grind

Romance:

Words Getting Worthless (Love is Wordless)

Honey Without Time

Heartthrobs With A Cheeky Smile

Cause in a Sky Full of Stars, I Saw You

Out of All the Stars in the Sky, I Choose You to Light My Night

At Peace With Stars, in Love With Fireflies

The Love Triangle of Doom

Death:

Phantoms Of The Undead

Shelter In The Graves

Catacomb Without Flaws

Dancing With Your Ghost

Ecto-static

Death Sucks, but the Afterlife is a Blast!

Gods:

Deranged Divinity

Worshipper's Rue

Mystery:

Failing Of The Fog

Stranger Of The Past

Construction Of Twilight

Tree Of The Lost Ones

Rat In The Mist

Giggling Crypts

A Face By Any Other Name

Speak the Truth in Every Sense, Bury It With Innocence

Fantasy:

Forsaking The Elements

Heroes Of The Void

Song of Ice

Lightning in a Bottle

Adrift in the Realms

Fae-n-tastic

Gathering Magic

Three Lullabies of Extradimensional Guides

The Birthday Wish that Sparkled with Magic

Enchanting Birthday Rituals

The Wishing Star Ritual

Destruction /Unhinged:

Sleep as the World Burns

Life is Just a Game (and I'm Playing for the Win)

Inception Of Infinity

Feathers of Chaos

Wingspan of Terror

Burning Brighter Than Hell

Let This City Burn, Burn, Burn

Good Vibes

Shoot for the Moon

Starry Night Skies

Age of Wonders

Streaks Of Laughter

A Lady's Luck, A Robin's Flight

Pt. 1 |

#writing #writing resources #free title ideas #title ideas #titles #title list #fic titles #fic title ideas #fanfic titles #fanfic title ideas #story titles #story title ideas #crack titles #crack title ideas

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ninja-muse · 7 months

Text

September is birthday month, if anyone's wondering why my acquisition of books appears to have slipped again (picture #2). At least I'd read nearly all of them before they joined my library shelves, and Winter's Gifts, well, it's really easy to read an Aaronovitch novella within a day or two of acquiring it. Especially since…

September was also week-vacation month, which is part of how I made it to 13 books read but very little explanation for my read-from-TBR-shelves stack (picture #1), only two of which I read on holiday. The two short ones I read in the gap between "finished the latest Book Of Substance" and "started the official Vacation Stack", and Digger was one of my 2023 goals so I decided to check that off. Baking Yesteryear was a surprise/accident. I was telling a coworker how much I enjoyed reading the library's copy and they said, "hey, while you were off, we got a copy too damaged to sell…". And one has to treat oneself in birthday month.

(Vacation was good, in case you were wondering. Camping, so no wifi, so lots of outdoors and reading time and charming rodent shenanigans.)

My biggest regret of the month, by which we mean less regret and more mild bookish panic, is the number of reading copies I appear to have taken home. I have one for Menewood which I'm planning to get to once I finish with My Roommate is a Vampire, and the rest of them were, well, um. Look. When your store buyer and random publishers send you books you'd enjoy and your coworkers finish reading ARCs you've been interested in, things happen, okay? At least at this point a lot of the books are coming out next year, which probably doesn't bode well for my 2024 TBR but that is a future problem.

Also, not doing great at my goal of reading a Canadian author every month. This is the second (?) month in a row I've failed on that front which, yes, is why I'm reading a Canadian author right now. (Also it's one of those ARCs a coworker finished with.)

Beyond the bookish stuff, there's not much to report. I've written a good bit and am surprising myself by how much I can write on my phone during a commute. Had a good birthday. Ate good food. Got fun things. Dealt with slightly more chaos at work than usual. Finished the last season of Great British Bake-Off aired in Canada and am looking forward to starting the Canadian version tonight.

How was your September?

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

Evidence of Things Seen - Sarah Weinman, ed.

A collection of true crime journalism tackling recent social justice issues and big-picture flaws in the justice system.

8/10

multiple #ownvoices essays by BIPOC authors

warning: the usual things one would expect to find in true crime journalism

Infinity Gate - M.R. Carey

A scientist, the multiverse, AI, and the nature of humanity.

8/10

Nigerian and Moroccan POV characters

warning: slavery, fire, xenophobia, war, torture, violence

Thornhedge - T. Kingfisher

Toadling confronts the knight bent on entering the sleeper’s tower.

8/10

Arab Muslim secondary character

Digger Unearthed - Ursula Vernon

A wombat’s tunnel takes her to a very foreign land. She would like to go home please—but there are gods.

8.5/10

Baking Yesteryear - B. Dylan Hollis

Tried and true recipes from the past century.

9/10

🏳️‍🌈 author

The Fragile Threads of Power - V.E. Schwab

Seven years after Red London was saved, some people have moved on and others are still picking up the pieces. And some are asking whether the king deserves to be in power.

7.5/10

POV characters of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 POV characters (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 author

Winter’s Gifts - Ben Aaronovitch

Agent Kimberley Reynolds investigates a case with “unusual characteristics” during a Michigan winter.

7/10

Ojibwe secondary characters

Lud-In-The-Mist - Hope Mirrlees

A bourgeois father tries to save his children from the plague of fairy fruit—which is hard, since it doesn’t officially exist.

6.5/10

warning: classist, misogynist, generally unkind to the disabled and mentally ill

A Long Day in Lychford - Paul Cornell

Something is wrong with the borders around Lychford and the local coven has to put things right before people get hurt.

7/10

Black British main character

warning: mild racism and xenophobia

The Vaster Wilds - Lauren Groff

A servant girl flees her colonial town for the dubious safety of the wilderness.

7/10

protagonist of colour, mentally disabled secondary character, incidental Powhatan and other indigenous characters

warning: racism, misogyny, rape, disease, starvation, murder, death of a child

Board to Death - CJ Connor

Ben turns down a suspiciously good deal on an old board game. Then the dealer turns up dead on his doorstep.

6/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay), 🏳️‍🌈 author, #ownvoices

Starter Villain - John Scalzi

Charlie inherits a supervillain empire, complete with a subscription mega-laser, spy cats, and enemies.

6.5/10

The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices - Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins

Two friends go on a holiday to northern England.

7/10

Currently reading:

Like Every Form of Love - Padma Viswanathan

A writer digs into the strange, complicated story of a man she befriended in a marina.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (gay), Indo-Canadian author, 🇨🇦

warning: domestic and child abuse

My Roommate is a Vampire - Jenna Levine

There’s a room-to-rent in Cassie’s low, low budget. The (hot) guy renting it acts like he’s from the 1800s. Surely he’s just quirky.

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay)

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

Stats

Monthly total: 13 Yearly total: 100/140 Queer books: 3 Authors of colour: 0 Books by women: 5 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 5 Books hauled: 6 ARCs acquired: 12 ARCs unhauled: 4 DNFs: 0

January February March April May June July August

#books #booklr #bookblr #rec lists #read in 2023 #reading wrap-ups #my photos #stacks of books

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limerental · 2 years

Text

ficletober day 9 - geralt, yennefer & ciri's huge, weird extended family modern au

Worried for their 13y/o daughter, Geralt and Yennefer call a meeting of their strange extended family of choice.

Contains ensemble found family shenanigans, wholesome family moments, and non-binary Mistle/Ciri

"She's hiding something. And acting different."

"Probably several somethings," said Yennefer. "She's a teenaged girl."

Poor Geralt looked stricken, as though the thought had just occurred to him, despite celebrating Ciri's thirteenth birthday months ago now.

"Now, now, Geralt, it's a perfectly natural phenomenon. She's blossoming into a young woman. She's–"

"Shut it, Jaskier. Who invited him to this meeting anyway?"

"I'm her godfather!"

"Regis is her godfather."

"Right. Well, I'm her fun uncle."

"Naw, sorry, Coen, Eskel, and I have split custody of fun uncle responsibilities," said Lambert.

"Well then I'm… musical accompaniment. Who else would sing her songs by that one popstar she likes?"

"That was years ago," said Yennefer. "These days, she mostly listens to… frankly I wouldn't call it music necessarily."

"Lots of screaming," said Geralt, frowning. "Very angry. That's part of the problem. It's a sign that something isn't right."

Sprawled on the couch, Lambert whistled innocently, as though he was not the most likely subject to have influenced their daughter's unusual music choice.

"She's a teenaged girl, like you said," said Milva, shrugging. "She'll do worse than have questionable music taste. I sure did."

The other women in the strange ensemble gathered in the front room of the Rivia-Vengerberg household offered their agreement. Triss aborted her agreement when she saw the look on Geralt's face, smiling reassuringly and shaking her head instead.

"Have either of you tried talking to the girl about it?" asked Nenneke as she passed around a platter of cookies.

Geralt and Yennefer looked at one another.

"Did you?"

"No, I thought–"

"You called the meeting, I assumed that meant–"

"No, I said 'maybe we should call a meeting' and then you called the meeting."

"Did you ask her–"

"No, I thought you did. That's why I–"

Their back and forth devolved into full-blown petty squabbling.

Eskel and Lambert had started discussing their rival sports teams in what they clearly thought were lowered tones. Cahir scrolled through his phone while Regis watched over his shoulder, announcing to the group's bemusement that he too had a Tiktok where he discussed native flora and had quite the following. Jaskier, grown bored and nosy, fumbled the elegant horse statue on the mantle of the fireplace, which Coen leaned to catch at the last moment. Milva pinched the moon-eyed Triss, who had been staring with blatant envy and sentimental longing at the arguing couple. Triss yelped. Vesemir snorted awake in Geralt's recliner.

Said couple showed no signs of slowing down, their accusations growing more pointed and scathing and increasingly irrelevant to the subject at hand.

Suddenly, the front door burst inward, and young Ciri appeared in the midst of the front room.

She seemed unsurprised to see her entire extended family gathered together, her expression stormy and determined. She held the hand of an individual her own age whose closely-shorn hair was dyed a vibrant pink.

"I don't know why you people have to be so dramatic about everything," Ciri huffed. "This is Mistle. They're my partner. And I don't care if you're disappointed. We'll run away together if you don't like it."

The gathering hushed.

"Disappointed?" asked Geralt.

"Why on earth would we be disappointed?" asked Yennefer.

"Regis said you would be."

All eyes turned to Regis, who smiled innocently.

"Oh yes, I caught these two together last week."

"And you neglected to say anything?"

"And told our daughter we would be disappointed about it?"

"Young Mistle is my neighbor. I often hear that gang of theirs torturing animals in the garage, I'm afraid."

"It's not a gang! It's a band! We're called the Rats."

"Mistle said they might let me join. I can't play an instrument but I'm getting pretty good at screaming."

Jaskier, who had spent many determined hours trying to get young Ciri interested in music, looked aghast. The rest stared in perplexed interest, not saying a word.

"Ciri," said Geralt, shuffling forward to lay a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "We're not disappointed."

"Except maybe disappointed in ourselves," Yennefer corrected as stepped up beside him, "that we made you feel that we would be."

"I only thought… well, Mistle's not a boy, you know."

"Yes," said Yennefer. "And?"

"They're not a girl either."

"And?"

"And they and their friends seem to enjoy torturing rats," said Regis unhelpfully, smiling.

"Mistle," said Yennefer, and the gangly kid holding Ciri's hand tightly straightened up. "You're invited to family dinner tomorrow."

"Mama, neither of you can cook."

"You're invited to family pizza night tomorrow." Yennefer eyed the rest of the family. "None of you are though. This meeting was a disaster. You've been horrendously unhelpful. Especially you, Jaskier."

"What did I do?!"

"You would have done something eventually."

The gathering concluded with a round of hugging and well wishes with Ciri and Mistle at the middle of it all, beaming.

Ciri felt very lucky to have this many people who gave a shit about her well-being. Mistle had two living parents who didn't give a shit about them, and Ciri was fortunate enough to have a whole ensemble. When she said so later that evening, Yennefer chastised her foul language even as she and Geralt grew teary-eyed. They embraced her together, wiping away her own spill of tears.

Ciri felt far less lucky several weeks later when half the family appeared at her very first informal basement performance of her experimental teenaged grunge band bearing video cameras and wolf-whistling.

That their opening act went viral on Tiktok thanks to Uncle Regis' strange following soothed little of the hopeless mortification.

But later, when Mistle wept in her arms and said they'd never felt that kind of love in their whole damn lives, Ciri could feel nothing but warmth and softness and good fortune.

#my fic #yenralt #the witcher #ciri x mistle #ficletober 2022

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yellowwithalisp · 2 years

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𝐌𝐫. 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲 (UT!Sans x God Tier!Reader)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 𝐌𝐫. 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲 (UT!Sans x God Tier!Reader) (Chapter one. A not so young Seer stands in her bedroom...) If you wanna make art of this story my @ on Twitter is @yellowwithalisp!! =D Also, this is a test post. Will fix the grammar tomorrow!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feelt my body jump as I quickly sets up in my bed. The loud annoying alarm clock to my right grows later and later before the old alarm clock falls off my desk. I took a shaken breath before I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Holding it in for 5 seconds and letting it out slowly. This is exactly how I wanted to wake up. I wish I was being sarcastic but this is actually the only way to wake myself up. Otherwise, my body was to say nope and go right back to sleep.

Using an old-fashioned alarm clock that moves when it ring helps out a lot. I took a breath before swinging my legs over your bed and slowly standing up. My body wobbling a bit as it starts to wake up as well. I reach down and pick up the old clock before silly putting it back on your desk. I already get the feeling going to be a long day. It's already been in long couple 1000 years. I couldn't help but to think back to a time when I was a normal human being.

A young kid standing in a room excited to play a game with 6 friends. Boy did that game end horribly.... No longer in Minnesota anymore. But thankfully the is stuff that was brought from the old world that came back into this world. Still don't know how that happens. I can't exactly use my powers to see how it did. Not saying I'm not glade they came back just didn't think they would or I would have to be the one to make them in this world. But Puns. I don't even want to think about living in a world without puns that's worse than living in a world without food. I suck at making them but I still enjoy them. It drove my old friends crazy whenever I made puns. And I still find it humorous every single time.

Even if those days were long gone now, I'm still glade that I can still anoy Lucas with them. He still reacts the same way as he always has and it always makes me smile. But man- am I glade that not I'm in a time where if I use my smartphone I don't get stared at. Or- correction. Can even use a phone at all because they exist now!! No more writing letters, as much as I love that period, it absolutely sucked in this world.

Speaking of which. Why am I doing this weird narration? And why do I feel the need to introduce myself? Your name is (Y/N). You are as previously stated, your really really old. Your currently "23" and say that your birthday is (M/D/Y) . You are a "human being". Not exactly human anymore. You ascended many years ago and you are now God Tier. Unfortunately, a fellow player decided to put a curse on you when you try to intervene with their plans.

The curse says that you won't be able to regain your powers until you meet your soulmate. Which hasn't happened so. It affects your being able to see into the future. You can still fly. Just no Seer of Time shenanigans. You currently run and own a hotel business right beside the mountain that the monsters were trapped under. Your friends also runs the hotel with you. He ascended as well. He is a Kight of Hope. One of the single things that's kept you mentally stable over the past 4000 years. You are currently resting in your private room in your hotel. Both you and he have your own rooms. With all the things you want in your own room. Including soundproof walls in case if your neighbors get to.... Into it. You also both have a small storage room as well. However, yours is where your transportalizer is. To take you back to your planet. The land of Mist and Platforms.

But as you thought before, the day is not going to start itself. So you go to your closet and you pick up an outfit to work today. Lucas has been cheering you up all week. He keeps saying something good should be happening this week. He could feel it in his bones. This guy hates saying puns but he'll say them to make you happy. Who knows, maybe something good will happen this week. But it's only Wednesday so half of the week has already passed so you're not too sure about it now.

I let out a sigh I didn't even know I was holding in. As I flip through the outfits all pre-matched in the closet. It's Wednesday, we're halfway through the week. Just gotta make it two more days. How hard could it be..? Sigh.

I gotta Really stop tempting this stupide game. Even after we won it will still find a way to screw us over. I pull out a more casual outfit for today. Beanie hat with a yellow flannel, black hoodie, black cargo pants, and crocks. Gog I love these crocks. They were a gag gift but they were the best gag gift. Bring the outfit back over to my room and toss it on my bed. My room looks like a weeb and a metalhead has a kid. I basically made a copy of my old room from when I was a kid in pre-game and made it the room of my dreams. And thank gog the stuff I liked was made into this world too.

A world without anime and music is a bad one. But I push that thought aside as I got out of my pjs and got fully dressed. Tossing my dirty close like it was a game of basketball into my dirty close bin. I miss completely and grumbled as I had to walk over and picked up my dirty clothes and put them into the bin. The blue LED light shines brightly against the black walls. As well as my lava lamp and the light coming from my computer. I walk over and pull up Pesterchum to see if I got any new messages. And sure enough. There was one. One form Lucas. At least he's not leaving messages as stick notes and leaving them all over your door now. He use to do that as a park back when we were younger and went to school. I clicked open Pesterchum to see what he sent to me.

-- needyDude began pestering organizedNovelist at 8:00 --

ND: Hey (Y/N)!

ND: I figured you sleep in today!

ND: Don't worry about opinion' today. I got it today! You just take it easy alright?

ND: See you down in a bit!

-- needyDude stopped pestering organizedNovelist at 8:03 --

I smiled, a tired smile but it was a smile. Oh, Lucas. What would I do without this guy? I got up and did a big stretch before putting her hands in my pockets. I should get ready to clock in and get things going. Grabbing my bag and phone I head out of my room, opening the door before shutting it and locking it. It was nice not to have to dive to work. But sometimes having work and your home in the same spot was not so great. When Lucas and I made the hotel. We made a privet area that would be our "home" Like a small apartment that lead to the main hotel through a door. I walk past our kitchen and looked out the window. we were on the ground level. I could see rain clouds heading our way.

I brought out my phone and check the weather app. It said we should get rain in about 30 minutes or so. It could get busy with people hiking or passing by taking shelter. I message Lucas that I was on my way and he replied with a ND:👍🏿. I smiled as I put my phone in my pocket and walked over to our "front" door and walked out and locked it. I walk down the quiet side hall as some of the staff pass by and wave at me. I wave back before my eyes went back to the floor as I walked. Following the red floor as I took a right that led me to the front desk where Lucas was at. Helping check a family into the hotel. He looked over and gave me a wave before Handing the mother the keys to the room.

"Here's your keys miss. If you need anything brought up to your room or anything. The front desk number is on the nightstand in the middle of the beds."

The mother smiled and her husband said thank you as he carried the two sleeping kids before they walked out of the loby and started to take their way to the room. Lucas leaned against the desk and crossed his hands over his chest as he gave me a smile.

"Bet your happy about the rain we're gonna get."

I put my bag under the desk and shrugged.

"At least my flowers will get some water. And the garden."

He smiled as he looked over at the front doors. His dreadlocks moved with him as he turned his head. Lifting a hand up to scratch his neck.

"Yeah but if we need to drive to get anything from the store I'm not driving."

"Still scared by that?"

"Look, in a normal storm. No. If it gets really bad like that one time. Yes."

"Fair enough."

I said as I looked over and pulled out a binder with the list of people who were meant to check in and out. I grab a yellow highlighter and marked some of the names as Lucas watched.

"Did um, the Strider family chick out?"

"The brother said that they were gonna stay for another two days. Apparently, they're hanging out with some old family friends here."

"Did you already mark that down?"

"Yup. The kid seemed like a cool kid. Like a little me."

I smiled and chuckled at him as she stood up straight. Closing the binder and putting it back down. I could see from the corner of my eye that the storm was growing close. Lucas started checking if anyone was gonna be late getting here due to the storm. One person said they were and thars find their car was old and both Lucas and I know that. Lucas texted him back saying to take it slow and to get here when you get here. Most of the workers here called Lucas work dad. Not in front of him but if you said work dad. They all knew who you were talking about. We both paused and looked over at the door as we heard the rumbling of the storm. Lucas looked a bit worried but I put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a shh pap.

The front desk phone went off and Lucas walked over and answered it. After a moment he hung up the phone and said that he was off to kill a very big spider for a guest. I couldn't help but laugh as he walked away giving me finger guns and a wink. I closed my eyes and smiled as I started typing away on the computer. I could hear the rain start to come down. Tapping a song on the glass doors before it turned into a melody. The rain was calming to me, and Lucas probably went to help other staff to be as far away from it as he could. I heard the soft bell of one of the doors opening and I turned my head over to the glass doors.

"Hello! Welco-"

My voice stopped as I saw a young child soaked to the bone shivering in a now wet sweater and a blue hoodie coving them. The hoodie was clearly not theirs, it was too big and almost dragging behind them. But that wasn't what made my voice die. Standing next to her was.... Queen Toriel. My eyes widen as memories come waking me in the face. From first meeting the Queen and King with the Maid of Space to speaking laughing, and sharing tea with her. I bink as I try to stop the tears from forming in my eyes. Two more monsters walked in after them. There was a big skeleton and a little skeleton. The blue hoodie the child was wearing was clearly the little skeleton. The other looked as if he was wearing some sort of armor. The little skeleton's white shirt was soaked worsed then the kids. I could see his bones sticking to the shirt. I could help but blush as I looked away for a split second. Feeling wrong for starting at his... Bones? The kid walked over to the desk and jumped up and hit the attention bell on the front desk and then looked up at me. I looked down at the kid and let out a small laugh.

"Geez kid, you rung my attention. How can I be of bellvice to you?"

The kid smiled as Queen Toriel let out laughter and the tall skeleton looked like he was grinding his teeth. The smaller skeleton Gave me a closed socket smile. The chilled started to sigh before they stopped and looked for something in their pockets.

"Oh no, it's okay kid. I can sign."

I said as I saw their eye light up without opening them as they quickly looked up at me and started to sign again. They asked me how many rooms were available and how much would a lot of rooms by. I raised and eyebrow as my eyes trailed over to Queen Toriel who walked over to the child and put her hand on top of her head.

"I believe I could be of some help here. You see, there are quite a few of us. And this rain has stopped us in our travels at the moment. We do not have a place to keep dry and rest until the rain stops. We have money that we will pay-"

I smiled at her and help to my hand to stop her from finishing her sentence. We built the hotel here in the first place so that when we were able to free the monsters they could have a place to stay for a bit.

"You don't need to pay Miss. We have plenty of room available for you right now."

Queen Toriel eyes widen as I could see the little skeleton raise a bone brow at me, but he was still smiling. The child grin as they bounced up and down happily as they sign thank you.

"Oh my word! That is- very kind of you! But it is too much! Please allow me to pay you at least some-"

"Too late. Looks like my hands moved on their own and pulled up what rooms are open. Oh darn."

The kid smiled as Queen Toriel clasped her hand together. The big skeleton turned and shook the little skeleton.

"SANS!! DID YOU HEAD THAT!! THE HUMAN IS LETTING US STAY HERE FOR FREE!!"

"Heh. Yeah, bro. I heard her. Pretty nice for her to aRAIN that for us."

"YES IT'S--"

The tall skeleton stopped and glared down at the little skeleton whose name is Sans. I couldn't help but laugh at his pun.

"Hey now, I'm the pun master here. Don't go jacketing my role here!"

The tall skeleton snapped his head over to me as Sans shrugged.

"We'll see about that kiddo. At lest I'm still Gaster Blaster Master Cast-"

"STOP!!! OH, MY STARS SANS!!!"

The tall skeleton yelled as he shook Sans. Looking over at Queen Toriel and the child.

"HUMAN PLEASE!! ARE YOU SURE THAT THERE ISN'T ANY OTHER PLACE WE COULD STAY AT?"

"I wouldn't when it's raining cats and dogs like that outside Mister skeleton. Besides, you might step in a poodle!"

"NYATH!? IT'S RAINING CATS AND DOGS!! I DON'T WANT ANY MORE DOGS STEALING MY SP--"

The skeleton stopped before throwing his hands over his sockets.

"OH, MY STARS!!! IT'S LIKE HAVING TWO SANS!! THAT'S IT!! I SHALL FIND US A NEW PLACE TO REST!!!"

I couldn't hold back my laughter at his reaction. Sans and the kid also laughed. I looked over at Queen Toriel as I typed on the computer.

"Just send everyone in and I'll get things figured out."

I said as I grabbed my umbrella from the corner and handed it to the Queen. She smiled as she took to and nodded her head.

"Thank you, miss..."

Suddenly my smile disappeared into a look of sadness. It had been many years. And I look very different. And the Queen knew would be dead at this time and not still alive. I have to ask like I didn't know her at all. Frisk titled their head as Sans raised his bone brown again. I quickly smiled again and grinned.

"My name's (Y/N)!! Nice to meet you, miss?"

The Queen looked surprised to hear my name. I looked at her and her expression and tilted my head.

"Is everything ok miss?"

"Oh- yes. Forgive me. It's just that. You have the same name as a Mage I knew long ago. My name is Toriel, it is very nice to meet you (Y/N)."

Thats right, I did told her back in the day that I was a mage. Would make explaining things easier. But real mages did exists. It's how I "lost" my powers in the first place. But the Gov had a pretty tight eye on them nowadays. The Queen looked down at the child and then over to the skeletons.

"Sans, Papyrus. I am going to inform the other of what is going on. Please keep an eye on my child until I return."

Sans and Papyrus nod their heads as Sans gave her a thumbs up. I smiled at her before looking down at the kid.

"Don't worry Miss Toriel. I'll keep the kid away from the stairs."

"The stairs?"

"Yeah. They're always leading up to something."

Sans chuckled as Papyrus let out an angry NYEHHH!!! The Queen left as I walked picked up the work phone and called Lucas. He quickly picked up.

"Hey! Everything ok?"

I looked over at the skeleton's talking as Sans glanced over my way before I looked away quickly.

"Yeah, I need you guys to bring lots of towels to the lobby. We're about to be full."

"Wait what? How many people are here?"

"Oh--"

I glanced over at the three and then back at the phone in my hand.

"A lot..."

[ 𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙀 ]

#undertale #undertaleau #sans #sansxreader #ut!sansxreader #homestuck #corssover #hiveswap #xreader fanfic #undertalefanfic #classicsans #classicsansxreader #lietale

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roywinters · 2 years

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( freddy carter; cismale ; he/him ; burn by in this moment ) hey, look! isn’t that roy winters? the 29/29 year old vampire is known to be pragmatic and unforgiving. they’ve been in town for ten years and always remind me of broken mirrors, recently snuffed cigarettes, and coffee that has sat on the burner for too long. let’s hope they survive what’s to come.

BEFORE DEATH

Before the bite, Roy’s life was mild and as normal as they came. Nothing special happened, considering he was born into an unassuming, sleepy nobody town; a mother and father who had him later in their marriage compared to other couples; and he didn’t really care for other children. In fact, his parents joked that they infected him with “old man syndrome” in the womb because of their own age, and Roy was always proving them right when he would rather play grocery store business instead of cops and robbers.

Through his single digits, he didn’t have any friends, and he seemed that. He preferred space and quiet, and the other kids were too loud and ate dirt. His teachers thought it was strange he’d rather stay inside the classroom and color while the others socialized during recess. They believed him to have a personality disorder or assumed that he was being neglected at home, but both were quickly disproven. Sometimes children just hate other children, and that’s that.

It wasn’t until fourth grade that he officially made his firsts of true friends, and it was only because they were so damn insistent about it. One was a girl named Opal, who had crooked teeth and long pigtails. Her twin, Michael, was meek and followed her everywhere. Lastly was a boy named Yusef, who showed him the fine art of kicking garden decorations for no reason that Roy could conjure up. They were weird and wily, and they made him feel like he never had to make any other friends again.

And that’s how it went. Roy trudged along with them through middle school bullies and puberty, through high school shenanigans, and even getting accepted at the nearby community college in Ashwick. He got his degree in medical science, starting his first career as an ER med tech. At work, he found a partner, eventually getting engaged to her, but the relationship ended a year after the engagement. Apparently, he was not offering her the emotional validation she needed, but suspiciously, she began dating someone new only a week after their breakup.

Roy spiraled a bit. A loose term, really. Roy was not as wild or whimsical, but as a late 20s man who never had experienced a breakup before, it was easy to get lost in a different scene. He drank, he smoked, he tried a one-night stand and hated it. He was late blooming into a wild rush, and Opal, Michael, and Yusef were hyping him through all of it. They were happy he was breaking out of that natural shell. Roy, the clam, they called him.

But, even happy, entirely normal times come to an end. The group planned a road trip to Vegas to celebrate Opal’s and Michael’s 30th birthday, and only a few miles outside of Ashwick’s limits, Roy struck something. Whatever it was looked human, but the car molded itself around it, as if they hit a statue. Roy couldn’t remember ever seeing it, as if it materialized from the mist, but as the car capsized, he knew that he hit it too hard.

AFTER DEATH

Roy woke, sinews and bones burning. His vision was bleary, but he recalled seeing someone standing on the edge of the bed, watching him. He would black out again, only to wake up alone in a what appeared to be a metal container that read “do not leave. the sun is out and you will die again.” Confused, he tried to leave, only to realize that the sun outside was painful, too painful. It seared his skin, and so…he waited until night. But whoever left him the note never came to find him, leaving him to wander back to Ashwick in bloodied, ripped clothing.

Roy is struggling to navigate this new world of his. Before his sire turned him, he had no idea that supernatural creatures were anything but works of fiction. He feels alone, and while he won’t say it out loud, he’s terrified of what he is and what he will become. He’s fighting with that fine line of giving into being a monster, forgetting he was human only a few short weeks ago, and trying to retain his humanity.

TLDR VERSION

Roy was a boring dude who was turned by his mysterious sire for reasons unknown. Maybe his other friends were already dead and his sire took pity on him? Maybe his sire meant to turn Roy and no one else. Anyways, he’s all kinds of fucked up from losing his only friends and his past life, and he has zero idea how to be a vampire. Not to mention he didn’t even know they or other creatures existed. Basically, he’s suffering.

#ashwickintro #im terrible at bios but i try

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nlghtshade · 2 years

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♡ march 2022 favorites

eternally grateful to: @drarryficrecs, @lostdrarryfics, @sweet-s0rr0w and their collaborative drarry sex scene rec list, and @thebooktopus and their mutuals march rec lists and everyone out there spreading the drarry love <3

fests to check out: @hd-cluefest , @call-me-daddy-fic-fest (and @hptransfest has started posting !! happy trans day of visibility !!)

this month was a busy one so i didn’t read as much as i would've liked but i still found a bunch of gems to share !! enjoy !! also happy birthday to our fave twins gred and forge !! more weasley love ♡

“i’m sorry” by @upthehillart

*pansmione

Calleth you (2022, Explicit, 17.3k) by @daaromoltor

The room floods with white light. Harry is on his feet so fast that the chair topples and clatters to the floor, his wand in his hand and a spell on his lips. “They’re outside,” a voice speaks from the luminescent mist, magic barely enough to carry the sound; it’s stripped to a featureless monotone, far away like an echo. “I can’t hold them off much longer. I need help, Potter." Harry stares as the mist dissolves, its dazzling brightness leaving floating spots of colour on his retinas. Eyes watering, wand still clenched in his hand, he says: “Fuck.”

golden trio by @mehroomiyat

Leaning on walls is an indecorous behaviour unless you’re trying to inconspicuously hold your tiny boyfriend’s hand at the sunset by @snarkyships-drarryside

witching hour by @softlystarstruck (2021, General, 738)

this fic was written just because of a little thread of an idea in my mind :) content: love confessions, bed sharing, accidental bond (no emotional/physical compulsion), coworkers, friends to lovers

sucre & thé by @mightier

Two wizards, hanging out, about to squish faces cause they're actually definitely gay, yeah! by @anisaanisa

kiss kiss fall in love: Chapter 3 (2022, Teen, 1.9k) by @softlystarstruck

i had fun with this one! ~1.9k, rated T just for language. eighth year best friends and roommates!! | thank you @lou-isfake for the help 💕 | from this prompt list

Two Months, Twelve Days, Nine Hours (658 words) by @nv-md

It had been two months, twelve days, and nine hours since Draco left—walked right out of their flat without a backwards glance. Not that Harry was counting.

animation by @rosalyfart

Sometime during the 8th year, that was added on for Hogwarts students, Harry and Draco become trapped together in what seems to be a dark storage closet. Of course it’s Harry’s doing, pushing Draco in, (who was minding his own business) in attempts to hide from Filch. The closet is much smaller than Harry thought it would be

Sirius and Harry by @sanjiseo

Stormy Weather by @rockingrobin69

For anon’s prompt, 800 words. TW for panic attack.

ficlet by @hogwartsfirebolt

comic by @filthylittlepureblood

This is very inspired by that third year moment that changed my life and AVPS, I regret nothing And yes Draco signed the drawing bc he canonically signed that drawing, he’s just so…. special.

Harry and Hedwig ❤️ by @ygreczed-hp

Eighth Year by @snarkyships-drarryside

I’m lying when I’m looking away (2022, Explicit, 6.7k) by InnerLilith

Sometimes it takes a Purim party and a flapper dress for Harry to figure out what he likes. (Spoiler: He likes Malfoy.) Or: Come for the hamantaschen, stay for the sex.

Serious (1.4k) by @rockingrobin69

1.4k of Auror partner shenanigans with all the pining. CW for injury (everyone’s all right in the end).

darling by @justthingsfromsarah

for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt — darling

drarry by @istehlurvz

some things open at the close (7/7) by @hp-rbiim

draco’s family by @lilbeanz

weasley sweater by @vulcains

is draco wearing one of harry’s many H sweaters, did mrs. weasley knit him his own D sweater. idk for cayce who is hungover

unicorn tapestry by @mojgon

♡ january ♡ february

also this isn't drarry or hp related but i watched Turning Red this month and that movie SPOKE TO MY SOUL i love it so much. i think that movie was written for me lollll i wish i could download it into my brain. i'm getting ready to rewatch it again this weekend and i'm so effing excited. if you haven't seen it go give it a watch !! and if you've already seen it go watch it again ahahah !! okay bye see you guys next month :)

#drarry #fic rec #art rec #2022 favorites #j

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gracieryder · 1 year

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happy birthday! hope you have a fantastic day and year to come. thanks for always bringing brightness to my dash

Tysm, sweetheart! 😭😭😭💖💖💖

And thank YOU for always being a light on the dash yourself! 🥺💕

Hope you have a good day too, hun!

Mwah mwah mwah! 🥰

#😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🤗🤗🤗#therapizededdie #jess the fourth #mist answers #mists birthday shenanigans

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not-delicious-milk · 3 years

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untangle

pairing | itadori yuuji x fushiguro megumi

content | fluff, light angst, humor. birthday fic for the birthday boy. yuuji has adhd and i will die on that hill

word count | 1.7k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 23 december 2020

author's note | yes i wrote this because i got back into knitting. i know i’m a day late for fushi’s birthday but shh. anyway itafushi brainrot

Itadori hyperfixates on knitting. Shenanigans ensue.

It started out innocent enough.

Gojou had decided to treat them to shopping in the city, something that excited Kugisaki and Itadori beyond reason. Fushiguro thought that those two would probably faint from excitement if their sensei ever indulged them in a trip to Roppongi, as he'd promised them so many months ago, even though he knew fully well it was little more than a tourist trap.

Then they passed by a fabric store, and Itadori had stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of the multicolored yarns in the window. Peeking over a teetering pile of bags and boxes he was holding for Kugisaki, Itadori drew so close to the window his breath misted up the glass.

"What is it, Itadori?" Kugisaki huffed. She turned around and barely suppressed a laugh when she saw him staring. "Are you a grandmother now? Come on, I still need to pick up new stockings."

"No, it's just—" Itadori glanced back at her, wide eyed. "You know, my grandfather taught me to knit once, when I was really little. I hadn't given it much thought since…" His sentence trailed off. "Anyway, it's getting colder now, right? Plus Christmas is coming up. Maybe I should pick it up again."

Fushiguro shrugged. "As long as you don't go crazy. Like that time with the stamps."

"Listen — those were limited edition stamps—"

"And the historical romance movies."

"How did you — come on, Pride and Prejudice is a classic—"

"And the bullet journals?"

"I didn't even get that many of those! Gojou-sensei was the one who recommended those to keep track of stuff."

"You had to empty one of your manga shelves just to store all the stationary you bought!"

"Okay, I get it!" Itadori held up one of his hands in a gesture of surrender, nearly dropping Kugisaki's things in the process. "In and out. All I want to do is look."

But that was not all he wanted to do. Itadori wanted to touch the yarn, and then he was ogling the seasonal colors, and then he was flipping through pattern books, and then he was discussing different wool blends with the lady working there, and then he was picking out bamboo circular knitting needles, and then he was ordering cones of yarn in different colors, and by the time they staggered out of the fabric store, Fushiguro was ready to collapse.

The way home was just as bad, if not worse. Itadori talked Gojou's ear off the whole time about different stitches he wanted to try and projects he was going to start. "Oh, by the way, Fushiguro!"

Fushiguro turned at the mention of his name. "What is it?"

"Would you prefer a scarf or a hat? I picked out this blue acrylic-wool blend to match your eyes, but I'm not sure which one you would prefer."

Fushiguro blinked at him. "A— a scarf, I guess."

Itadori gave him a thumbs up and then went right back to talking a mile a minute. Fushiguro wasn't sure if he should be paying attention or not. He glanced at Kugisaki, who was in a world of her own looking at the souvenirs and new accessories she had bought with Gojou's credit card.

Gojou himself seemed only mildly interested in what Itadori was saying. He seemed to be thinking of something else, but he did seem to be making an effort to show his student that he was listening.

Fushiguro sighed. He really was hopeless. "Itadori, tell me about the patterns you want to try."

Itadori turned to him, and Fushiguro let himself take in the radiant glow of his eyes for one selfish moment, before training his gaze on the floor of the train.

(Was it too much to ask for him to stop being so bright all the time?)

The excitement could barely keep its way out of Itadori's voice as he described the different ways to knit a sock, and Fushiguro smiled a little, careful not to let Gojou see it. He would never let him live it down.

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

"Fushigurooooooooooooooo!"

He doesn't have to yell. The walls are so thin between our rooms anyway. "What?" he called back, a little quieter.

"I need your help! Come here!"

Fushiguro sighed and closed the book he'd been reading. It was a hefty tome on marine biology he'd picked up the week before. And in that week, Itadori had probably knit enough to clothe a small country.

Well, that was an exaggeration. But he really had been spending all his time working on some project or another, and Fushiguro was mentally counting down until his inevitable burnout.

He opened the door to Itadori's room and poked his head inside. "What— oh."

Itadori grinned sheepishly at him. He was in the middle of a pile of tangled yarn, probably partially tangled in it himself, seated on the floor. "Um, I could use another pair of hands."

Fushiguro sighed for as long as he could, feigning annoyance.

(He really didn't mind.)

"Thanks, man." Itadori wriggled his way out of his multicolored bonds and started picking at the strands. "I promise it's not as bad as it looks." What it looked was pretty bad.

"I just forgot to organize them when I was done with a color. I had just been putting them in a bin under my bed."

Really? Not a blender?

Fushiguro said nothing as he worked at a thick knot.

"Brat, do something about him."

His eyes went wide as Fushiguro whipped his head around to see a mouth formed on Itadori's cheek, speaking in a familiarly cold voice. "He's driving me insane."

Itadori slapped a hand over Sukuna's mouth automatically. "You were already insane," he muttered under his breath.

The mouth opened again on his hand. "All you think about are your projects. If I wanted to possess a grandmother, I would have done so. Brat, break his knitting needles, throw out his yarn, something. I know you find it irritating too."

Itadori pointedly ignored Sukuna's voice, but for a moment Fushiguro was sure he saw something flicker in his eyes — something like disappointment, or maybe regret. His smile seemed a little too tight, his gaze too fixed.

Ever since he had come back to life, Fushiguro had noticed that Itadori wasn't quite the same. He never wanted to talk about it, either, besides the few words they'd exchanged before the Goodwill Event.

But these days, something about Itadori Yuuji seemed a little unsure. He seemed harder, cracked around the edges like broken glass. He was smiling the same smile as ever, but something in his eyes told Fushiguro that he didn't mean it.

Fushiguro imagined that he was untangling Itadori. Maybe it was that he didn't trust him enough, wasn't close enough to him, didn't care as much about him as Fushiguro did him, but there was something twisted up inside Itadori that he didn't let anyone touch.

(He would never admit it, but Fushiguro wished that he could. Sort through the strands one by one, with care and with gentleness, until he was all smoothed out.)

"Itadori," Fushiguro said quietly.

"Huh?" By the time he turned around to meet his eyes, Itadori had already masked his brief slippage of control.

"I don't think it's irritating."

Itadori laughed a little. "No, it's okay. You don't have to feel bad, I know I'm going a little overboard…"

"I'm serious."

He fell silent and ran his fingers through his soft pink hair. Again, there it was — a flash of something between disappointment and regret. "I just… it feels nice to make stuff for other people, I guess." And there he went again. Always other people first.

(When would he realize other people worried about him too?)

Fushiguro didn't say anything else, but silently picked a piece of yarn off of Itadori's hoodie.

"Oh! That's right!" Itadori suddenly stood up and rummaged through his bag. "It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

It was. Fushiguro hadn't told anyone about it though — there wasn't much he hated more than other people fussing over him on his birthday. The attention, the coddling praise, the presents… all of it was too much.

Who could have—

The winking face of his sensei flashed across his mind. Of course.

"Here you go, before I forget to give it to you." Itadori handed him a folded blue scarf. "It's your birthday present!"

Fushiguro took the scarf gingerly. It seemed to tingle in his hands, and he could almost feel the attention and time that Itadori had put into it. It had a complicated-looking cable pattern that must have taken him forever.

"Do you— do you like it?"

He glanced up at Itadori, whose usually sunny face was clouded over with insecurity. Ah, I must have made a face by accident.

Fushiguro answered by putting the scarf on. It even smelled like him. If he breathed in deeply, he could smell Itadori's fabric softener and the scent of the outdoors that always seemed to cling to him — wood and soft grass and—

Stop smelling the scarf.

"I like it," he managed. He couldn't make eye contact with Itadori — if he did, he was afraid his careful mask of casual indifference might break and reveal something much more embarrassing.

"You do? Oh, that's good." Somehow Itadori didn't sound very convinced.

Fushiguro risked looking into his eyes. "I really love this," he stated firmly. "Honestly, I'm glad you decided to start knitting again." He paused a moment before going a step further, grasping at the tangled strands around him and within the boy who stood before him. "I think your grandfather would be really proud of you."

Itadori blinked in surprise. "Oh." A wide grin spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it!"

Fushiguro gestured hopelessly to the mountain of tangled yarn.

"Ah, right."

An easy silence fell as they untangled the rest of the yarn. The warmth of the scarf around Fushiguro's neck was grounding, and reminded him of the warmth of the boy next to him.

Itadori scooted closer to him and rested his head on Fushiguro's shoulder, surprising him. Neither of them said a word as they picked at knots of yarn.

"Thank you," muttered Itadori under his breath.

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all.

#birthday boyyyy #slight spoilers for events just after the current anime canon #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #itadori x fushiguro #itadori yuuji #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi

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spidernana · 4 years

Text

Like Icarus

Alright ^^ this is the birthday present I’ve been sitting on for @semisolidmind, hurried along a bit because I felt so bad for the trouble they’ve been having with their phone T-T I hope you don’t mind the liberties I took, dear. Happy late birthday!

Human Underfell Sans and his monster Frisk belong to Semi, and the little scattered inclusions of soulmating shenanigans are mine. I just can’t help myself sometimes lol

(Also, please keep in mind this is VERY LONG. Like... 17k words. I also have it posted on Ao3, and have included the link ^^b)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116962

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

Someone was fucking singing.

Sans' heavy brows scrunched over his closed eyelids, his nose wrinkling and his lips curling as the unwelcome, pervasive song continued. He cursed beneath his breath, throwing a thick, heavily muscled arm over his eyes in an attempt to drown it out, but the motion (and the crude utterance) did nothing but aggravate him further.

In fact, the singing only seemed to get louder, and with that, he'd fucking had it.

If there was one thing that he insisted on, it was his sleep; he despised being woken up before his alarm more than almost anything else. He was allowed so few luxuries in his life, given so little time between work and stress and everything else to just relax... he never asked for much more than to not be disturbed in his rest.

For fuck's sake, even Papyrus knew better than to wake him up before eight, and it was nearly impossible to get anything through his younger brother's insufferably thick head.

But despite his completely reasonable demand, this motherfucker was belting out some... stupid ass song he'd never heard before, what could only be a few feet from his fucking window. He'd give them points, they weren't a bad singer, and if you were twisting his arm, he might even admit that it was actually a rather pleasant song, especially given their soft, sweet voice (not his usual kind of music, but you can't deny talent when you hear it), but that wasn't gonna save them from getting their tongue ripped out of their ignorant skull.

Principals, you know. Can't be lenient, everyone would expect the same.

So the foul-tempered, violent man sat up to do just that, snarling obscenities and scraping a hank of his voluminous, curly hair from his face where it stuck to the stubble of his beard, his magic crackling furiously as he snapped his eyes open to seek out the culprit-

And was greeted, not by the sight of his trash-strewn bedroom, by nicotine-stained and torn wallpaper or the dusty, dirt-streaked window, but by the rising sun, spilling its gentle rays over the crests of rolling foothills and slowly illuminating the field of swaying yellow buttercups he was sitting nearly in the middle of. The wisps of clouds skittering across the sky caught the light, glowing the crisp oranges and reds and purples of sunrise, and all but a few of the brightest stars had already fled in the coming of day.

He was currently sitting on the curve of a large boulder, the cold of it seeping through his pants and into his skin, the surface rough under his gloved palms. A mountain rose high overhead, dominating the landscape and the lightening sky almost entirely, and the hulking, formerly enraged man could only stare up at its imposing facade, blinking incomprehensibly as the flashfire of his temper ebbed away into nothingness.

That was Mt. Ebott, so near he could smell the pine forest gathered around its base from where he sat. The lonely, inactive volcano lay miles away from the city, at the edge of an ancient iceberg and a caldera of its own making; legends professed that it was cursed, that all that went to the mountain disappeared and were never seen again... though he had heard other, stranger tales.

Tales of magic and monsters.

Sans snorted, shaking his head and looking away from the mountain's looming, mist strewn face. Didn't really matter right now. He was more concerned with figuring out the conundrum of his predicament... namely why the hell he'd been sleeping on a fucking rock, over two hours away from home.

There was his jacket, thick and fur-lined, balled up on the boulder's surface; he'd clearly been using it as a pillow, though the twinge in his neck and spine professed to its ineffectiveness. He was still wearing the same clothes he remembered putting on the night before... his jeans were stained with the whiskey he'd spilled and tried to clean up with bar napkins, his t-shirt's neckline likely still decorated with crimson lipstick from the woman he'd picked up.

He couldn't even remember this one's face. He'd been fucking trashed, the dull throb behind his eyes testified to that much... he didn't remember a damn thing after getting her back to the hotel room he'd gotten.

Had he driven out here after he'd finished with her?

Looked like it. His bike was out next to the razor wire fence, at the edge of the field; he could see the chrome from his perch, almost dazzling in the light of the rising sun. Shit... he'd clearly been drunk enough to pass out once he got here. He was lucky he hadn't driven into a ditch on the way and managed to finally off himself.

Papyrus was gonna fucking kill him.

Groaning and gritting his sharpened teeth, Sans rubbed at his aching eyes with his palms, grinding hard enough to make stars pop against the backdrop of blackness. The punishing pressure of his hangover didn't fade, only seeming to worsen in his attempt to soothe it, and he snarled in frustration, dropping his hands away and pressing his forehead to his raised knees. His brow piercings protested, the thick leather collar done up just a little too tight at the base of his throat dug in and restricted his breathing, but he ignored the discomfort, only clenching his jaw tighter.

He'd gotten carried away again. He'd known it was coming, that he was gonna have another breakdown soon and do something he'd regret... at least he hadn't landed himself in jail again, or gotten himself shot. At least he'd just drunk himself stupid and driven himself out to the only place that he could ever feel at peace.

And that was why he hadn't questioned, not even to himself, why he was here, in the shadow of the mountain. How he'd gotten here, sure, but the why of it? Nah.

He knew why.

This was where he always came, when the world became too much and everything hurt. When the loneliness suffocated, when life was too hard to bear, when the drink couldn't drown the misery, when the bitches didn't satisfy. The mountain called to him, and away he would go, because for a reason he had never been able to name, it always, always helped.

He'd drive out the miles of broken down, unmaintained roads to this field, set at the very edge of the forest, sit himself on this rock, and just... exist. He'd watch the sun set and the moon rise, watch the stars come out one by one and pretend he would ever be able to count them all. He'd listen to the crickets serenade the owls swooping overhead, watch the heavy heads of the flowers bend under the winds bearing down, cool and fresh, from the mountain.

It was the only thing that could truly settle the anger that seemed to live inside him almost perpetually, coming here... the only place he could just be.

Ebott was just... so far from it all, from the smog and the bullshit of the city, the sounds of traffic and shouting and the sheer noise of life, from his miserable existence. He never felt as calm and as centered as he did when he was here, pulling the petals from flowers one by one like a schoolgirl and fearing no judgment for it. His phone wasn't ringing, no one was shouting slurs at him from across the street, he didn't have customers breathing down his neck or his brother complaining about his lack of motivation.

Out here, he was just Sans. He was whole, unscarred and innocent in a way he'd never been allowed to be.

He couldn't fathom why being here did this to him. He wasn't usually a flowers and fresh air and quiet contemplation kind of guy... he was loud and rough and crude; he liked cursing and cigarettes and car parts, strong alcohol and sex and bar fights. Gentle, whimsical things had never been a part of his world, had no place in the filth of the city he'd never left, had allowed himself to be swallowed by.

Sometimes he wondered if it was the mountain itself, the magic he'd been told it held, calling to the sorcery that ran through his veins. Was there something up there waiting for him, something greater than he could imagine? He'd thought to ask his brother, before, if he felt the same pull, if being near the mountain stirred anything inside him... but Papyrus didn't hold with such things, he was too practical.

In the end, he supposed why truly didn't matter. He was lucky to've found something that brought him so much peace without a prescription; he didn't trust doctors, hadn't for a good long while, and didn't see that changing anytime soon.

He'd done enough lounging around thinking for one morning, though. Papyrus could open the shop on his own, but he'd never get his hands dirty with the hard work, he had a long drive ahead of him, and he was gonna have to think up a really, really good excuse to appease his brother on the way. Wasn't like he could tell him he'd driven out to a field in the middle of nowhere, drunk off his ass...

God, this was gonna be an even bigger bitch than the crink in his neck, fu-

“Oh! You're awake!”

Sans jolted in pure shock, sitting up ramrod straight and squinting against the now much brighter rays of the sun, the chain attached to his wallet scraping against the boulder as he moved. Once again aware of his surroundings as he was called unceremoniously from his own thoughts, he was suddenly conscious to the fact that the gentle singing that had woken him from his drunken slumber in the first place had fallen silent, leaving in its wake the soft breaths of the wind as it moved through the distant treeline and the chirping of waking birds.

Shit, he'd completely forgotten about his mysterious companion, in his shock at finding himself in a field at too fuckin' early AM, and now he'd allowed himself to be snuck up on. Hope they were ready to be disappointed, if they planned on robbing him... he'd wasted the last of his last paycheck on the hotel room last night.

There was a rustling amongst the flowers to his left, signaling the hidden person's mode of approach (what kind of idiot were they? Announcing themselves, and being almost intentionally loud? Worst mugger ever), but with a swiftness that both surprised him and kept him from doing anything more than twitching his hand towards the handgun clipped to his studded belt, alarm flooding his blood with ice, an extremely hairy, diminutive figure leaped from the swaying flowers and up onto his stargazing boulder in a single, nimble bound.

They came to a stop before him gracefully, footing and posture sure, and smiled at him sunnily from beneath the cover of the crown of flowers they bore on their oddly shaped head.

“I'm so glad you're okay... I was really worried! I don't think I've ever seen anyone sleep as heavily as you were; nothing I did woke you up, not even poking you! I would've thought you were dead but for the snoring... which was very loud. But that can't be helped, can it? No, of course not. Eheh... anyway, I wanted to stay with you, to make sure you woke up and were well!” the small personage explained rapidly, almost too fast for him to keep up with; it seemed they'd gone too quickly even for themselves, as they paused to take a deep, steadying breath, tiny hands propped on wide hips, and as they caught their breath, Sans could only stare, blindsided for the second time in five minutes.

This was very obviously the same person that had been singing, they spoke with the same quiet, sweet resonance as they had sung with, but... but it was slowly dawning on him, the more he looked at them, that they weren't a person at all.

The little being blinking back at him from beneath lashes so dark and thick that they nearly completely obscured their bright, shining brown eyes wasn't human, though they stood quite steadily on their back legs... this person was, one hundred percent, a sheep. A sheep wearing a worn, slightly ripped purple sweater-dress over their (her? Her, for sure. She was wearing a dress, looked curvy in all the right places, and had the cutest, most melodic voice he'd ever heard; if he was wrong, he'd correct himself later, but he was almost certain this little creature was female) thick, dark brown woolen coat, a long, fuzzy tail whipping about her legs in clear excitement. Her drooping ears were perked towards him, soft pink on their insides, and her furry face was bright and smiling, even in her breathlessness.

A sheep. A sheep was talking to him.

This was it.

He'd finally fuckin' cracked.

Huffing out an almost amused breath, Sans raised a large, scarred hand to his aching head, the rough material of his fingerless gloves catching on a loose lock of his hair. He massaged his temples with his fingertips, his smile broad but humorless. Obviously, he'd gotten himself into more trouble than usual last night... he'd gotten himself drugged, and he was hallucinating.

...but no. It'd been a long time since he'd fucked around with the hard stuff, but he remembered what the highs and lows felt like, and they weren't like this. All he could feel was the latent bite of the entire bottle of whiskey he'd downed at Grillby's, the dryness of his parched tongue in his mouth and the rumble of hunger in his belly and the sluggish craving for nicotine at the back of his mind.

So if not drugs, what was it? Had the magic finally addled his brain? He knew he used his more than the old fuckface had recommended being safe, but Gaster'd also never gotten the chance to test he and his brother's upper limits before he took his untimely dirtnap, heh.

Could be... and yet, despite his conjecture, and the impossibility of the talking sheep's presence, he felt okay; sure, he was more hungover than he could remember being for a long ass time(it'd been a hell of a night... he hadn't drunk like that in years), and his back was killing him, but beyond that, he felt no different than usual.

The world turned as it always had, the bees buzzed and the birds sang and the sun rose steadily in the sky, raising a sheen of sweat across the back of his neck beneath the thick curtain of his long hair.

...but if he was fine, how could this creature still persist in existing, now looking on him with an expression of slight nervousness, furry paws twisting together before her chest anxiously.

“You... you are well, right? Are you hurt? It can't have been very comfortable to sleep on a rock like that... I tried to help, I tried to move you to the ground, but... um, you're a lot bigger than me, and... so, I just put your jacket under your head. If... if you want, I can help! I'm not the best at it, but I do know a little bit of healing magic,” the little sheep murmured, fuzzy cheeks flushing at the admission that they had attempted to move him (ha... that'd've been a sight, the tiny thing was maybe half his size), and with her newest spiel, Sans' gaze brightened, snapping back to her discomfited expression, his hand dropping away from his face to lay at his side.

Magic. She'd definitely said magic, though any kind that healed was a mystery to him... but she had admitted to having magic, and that brought him back to the world of reality with a screeching halt, his eyes moving from her earnest face and to the mountain that loomed behind her.

His own possession of magic was an anomaly. He and his brother had been bred by the man he'd never called father to bear it, an experiment in emulation of Gaster's deepest, most sincere fascination... monsters. Legendary beings long said to live on the cursed mountain he now sat at the foot of, gone for so long that they had nearly passed out of all memory, recalled only in history some described as mythology.

Monsters were said to be made entirely of magic, the stars' own children, beings of pure love and at one with nature; they were described to come in many forms, from hideous to nearly shapeless, elementals and amorphous blobs and animals of a far more intelligent nature than their own.

Could... could this talking sheep be one of them? Had the monsters finally left the mountain? ...or was this creature alone?

She certainly seemed to be alone. Any companions she had might be hiding, waiting to see what he would do to this soft, tiny being that radiated unadulterated concern and kindness (he bristled at the conjecture, that she'd been thrown before a mad dog like him as a test, his teeth gritting before he'd even realized what he was doing; what did he care?)... but for some reason, he doubted it. His instincts hadn't let him down in that area before... which meant the little lamb waiting patiently for his answer was wandering the wide world by herself.

The thought bothered him more than it should have, with their practically newborn acquaintance... with how little he truly knew about monsterkind. Maybe the little thing was a powerhouse of magical ability, capable of taking on armies alone. Maybe her completely open and friendly and nonthreatening bearing was a ruse. Again, though... he doubted it, and his worry redoubled, the knowledge of what the world would do to a magical being that couldn't defend itself filling his aching head with a concerning amount of empathetic anxiety.

He hadn't cared about anyone besides his brother for nearly his whole life... that just came with the territory of existing in his kind of world. Use or be used, take or lose it all. Kill or be killed. That's the way it was. Feeling real worry for the well-being of someone else was an entirely new feeling, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to shake it.

He'd think on it later, when his head was clearer. He had more things to consider at the moment... like the little monster still waiting for his response.

He grunted, beneath his breath, shifting his position on the still frigid boulder to attempt to ease the ache between his shoulders (nope.... nope, just made it worse, fuck it all-) and, at the same time, test the watching creature's reactions to sudden movements, only confirming the ill feeling of worry in his gut when she merely watched, bright and curious and completely unbothered by a much larger being changing postures.

She was gonna get herself killed out here, no doubt.

“nah, ‘m fine. y’ain’t gotta waste it fer my sake,” he murmured at last, his voice raw and scratchy with thirst and abuse, and the little sheep monster, bright eyes widening at the sound of his voice (the fur of her cheeks darkened as well, for seemingly no reason at all... flighty little thing. A satisfied, confident little voice at the back of his mind whispered that she blushed over the depth and roughness of his voice, like many women had before, but he dismissed it before it settled), unwound delicate, thin fingers to wave her hands through the air dismissively, the smile returning to her face to light it up with gaiety.

“O-oh… it wouldn’t be any trouble, really! But if you’re sure…” she rejoined, obviously leaving the offer open while at the same moment respecting his decision, and Sans' heavy brows scrunched, his mouth twisting to the side as his confusion overtook him. Any doubt that he'd had over her being a monster that lived under a literal rock was completely dismissed, now; no one from the outside world would offer a complete stranger help like this, spending valuable strength for the singular benefit of another.

Had she really emerged from her home without knowing what it was like out here? That she'd be taken advantage of in a second, offering herself like this so readily?

A twinge of guilt assailed him, at the knowledge that he was one of those kind of people too... that he'd done his fair share of being the bad guy. Sure, it'd kept him alive, but he knew perfectly well that some things he'd done had been purely out of cruelty and spite, to benefit himself and no one else. It was a mystery to him that he'd turned down her offer in the first place, though perhaps it had been out of distrust for having a stranger use magic on him (he knew better, he hadn't even considered the danger of it), and an even further mystery that, on having it offered again, he had no intent to change his answer.

It felt... wrong, on a moral level he hadn't answered to once in his life, to let her make herself vulnerable. He'd done some truly despicable things, but even considering this felt damnation worthy.

What was wrong with him? Where was this all coming from?

“‘m sure. you’ll need it, likely as not… monster out here by yourself,” he replied pointedly, jerking his head to the world outside their conversation and then wincing as his headache worsened (fuck, it was bad. Just having his eyes open was taxing, and the steadily rising sun wasn't making things any easier), and at his words, his diminutive companion let out a quiet gasp, the glitter of her eyes sharpening under the heavy fan of her thick lashes.

She took three eager, leaping steps forward, her entire, round form bouncing with an unknown excitement (he couldn't have stopped his eyes from lowering to watch if he'd had the presence of mind to try, old habit and wanton curiosity ensnaring the fall of his gaze in a moment, and he wasn't disappointed in the least by what he found there, to his complete and confused surprise), to settle before him on the balled up expanse of his thick jacket, fuzzy legs folded primly beneath her and hands propped under her chin with rabid interest.

“So you do know about us. I’d wondered, if you’d forgotten us like the others that fell... I’d thought there was something different about you. Did I… I thought I felt magic from you too. Is that right?” she queried breathlessly, watching him with a closeness and a simultaneous wonder that would have made him laugh if it hadn't sunk under his skin and into his bones like a knife, stabbing all the way to his center in a single motion. He was just as breathless as she was, his throat tight and his fingers clenched and his aching eyes riveted to hers... he, for the first time since he'd been a child, blood on his hands and his creator dead at his feet (there was the ringing in his ears again, chasing him through the years and echoing from the house he'd tried to pretend still didn't stand at the edge of town, empty and yet full of ghosts), didn't know what to do.

He was a man of action. He didn't waste a lot of time on thinking, not when quick reactions yielded the best and richest rewards... the path he needed to take to achieve his ends was always clear before him. But in this moment, the sounds of the wind in the trees and the singing of the birds in his head, the scent of the flowers and his dirty clothes and something that smelled like warm hay and brown sugar and honeysuckle (was... was that her?) assaulting him, her liquid chocolate gaze pinning him to the spot and sinking into his blood to speed his heart and cloud his mind... he didn't have a clue what lay ahead, where to go from here, and that scared him more than he liked to admit.

It wasn't just being faced with an entirely new world, the reality that Gaster hadn't actually been full of shit and that monsters really did exist. It wasn't just having a complete stranger show him mysterious benevolence, watching over him while he slept and offering him help from the goodness of her heart. It wasn't even having someone he didn't know reveal that they knew he had magic, a knowledge he guarded from all but close friends and those he was already planning on killing... it was something that he couldn't name, something that felt bigger than him, something that some people liked to call religion, a devotion to a higher power that worked in mysterious ways.

He didn't know what it was, what he was going to do in this brave new world now laid before him, and he hated that more than anything. He didn't like feeling powerless, not when being powerless meant death... and yet, even as he wallowed in his inadequacy, he felt no threat from her. She only watched, and smiled, and wiggled her little tail further into the fur of his jacket (was she cold? She had a lot of pretty thick looking wool, probably not... and yet the concern lingered), her presence so painfully peaceful and benign that he was almost embarrassed to be losing his cool the way he was.

He needed to chill the fuck out. She wasn't pushing him for any decisions... no one was, not out here. No one was nagging at him, pressuring him to think faster, be better, work harder. She was just... waiting, curious about him with no design behind her queries, and with the knowledge of that, his pique faded just as quickly as it had risen. The calm and quiet returned, the feelings that soothed him and drew him to this place when he was feeling as muddled as he had been a moment before, his eyes caught by the little crown of flowers on top of her fluffy head, fluttering in the same breeze that bowed the heads of the others still planted in the ground around the rock.

That nameless something tugged at his heart, trying to tell him something he just couldn't grasp (there was something about her, something that felt far more familiar than it should... like he'd known her his entire life, and had missed her so much he had come to the only place that felt even a little bit like her), but he couldn't understand, couldn't make the connection, and so he brushed it away for the moment, shaking his head to clear it and glancing back down to meet her waiting gaze.

She'd asked him about his magic. It was a personal question, for him... but for her kind, likely as easy a conversation as considering the weather. He could indulge her in that much, a trust he didn't understand blooming in his heart without qualm.

“yeah, i got magic. most humans don't, though. ...you could tell i did, just from lookin'?” he divulged, letting his formerly tense body finally relax (it felt like such a foreign thing to do, letting go of the anxious tension of his muscles in front of someone else... he didn't ever do that, not even around his brother), and she nodded eagerly in response, her shoulders shrugging up and her head tilting so cutely that his lips quirked into a half-smile completely unconsciously.

What was she doing to him...

“Oh yes. Monsters are made of magic, we can feel it in our souls~ there’s so little out here, beyond the barrier, you stood out like a beacon. I’ve… I’ve never felt any like yours, though. It’s so warm… like a hearth fire, heating me all the way to my soul…” she murmured gently, her hands rising to rest on her chest, over the same place that beat so steadily and strongly in his own; her lashes fluttered to veil her beautiful gaze (beautiful...? The foreignness of the term in reference to this strange little being was staggering, but the more he looked, the more he thought it, and he had no want to deny it), her head bowed and her smile softened into a fondness that he couldn't fathom, and he could do little more than stare, moved by her words more than he knew how to handle.

He'd never thought of his magic as how she described it. It was a tool, and an angry one at that... he'd used it to get his way for long enough to know that for certain. It blazed in his veins like lava, in his worst moments, stealing all but his unending temper from his mind and leaving nothing but destruction in its wake... burned in him furiously enough to leave ash on his palms and send smoke from his pores. It terrified those that stood in his way, and he liked that more than he probably should... and yet, despite knowing that she was wrong, that he'd burned both himself and others with its fury, he never wanted this delicate, flower-crowned lamb to think otherwise.

If she thought him a hearth, he could be that for her. He could keep her warm in the depth of winter, give her comfort and safety from the storm, temper his flame to never burn her with its ferocity; he could be anything she desired, everything she'd ever wanted-

...what?

Sans blinked several times in succession, returning to his own mind with a rush of confusion and distaste for his own poetic thoughts. What the hell had that been? He'd never been a romantic, that flowery, foolish nonsense would only get him robbed in the middle of the night... saying nothing of the strength of the desire to be just that that had overtaken him, the want to be the best he possibly could be, all for her.

He was acting like a love-struck moron, drunk in a way he never had been before, and he didn't even know her name. Not that that had ever stopped him from getting what he wanted before... he'd had his way with women that he barely knew more times than he could count.

This was different, though. There was a draw to her that he couldn't begin to understand, fierce and unquestionable but more than just the want to slake his lusts; every moment that passed only made it stronger, the beating of what could only be his own soul pounding a tattoo against the inside of his ribs. His hand twitched where it lay beside him on the rock he sat on, drawn to mirror her motion, but he clenched his fist instead, firmly keeping it in place at his side.

He was being ridiculous. He was out of it, tired and in pain and thrown off his rhythm entirely by the strangeness of meeting a monster in a field at whatever-the-fuck o'clock in the morning, and there was no reason for him to entertain the tangled machinations of his loopy brain (besides the pervasive want to do just that). A smoke would've helped him, he knew it would, but he recalled, with the small smile she'd brought him falling from his lips, that he'd smoked his last one outside the bar last night, while waiting for his conquest to shake off her friends.

Damnit...

He was irked now, his jaw tightening and his mood souring against his will, his gaze far away as he wondered when the next time he'd be able to get another pack of cigarettes would be (he could stop at a gas station on the way back to the city, but it'd only make him later...), and nearly missed the way the little sheep monster sobered before him, her shoulders drooping and her blissful smile falling away. It didn't look right on her face, the loss of the light that seemed to radiate from within her, and the wrongness of her upset garnered his attention again in an instant, a welling of worry for what caused it filling him before he could stop it, his need for nicotine forgotten.

She fidgeted, as her soft moment of consideration fled her, hands dropping to pick at a tear in his jacket and gaze falling to her woolen knees (no... no, don't look away-), flat, pearly teeth worrying her bottom lip as she pondered on her next words.

“I'm... I'm sorry. If I said something wrong, or made you uncomfortable. I'm sure this is all very strange for you. ...it is for me too,” she whispered, shrinking under what she clearly thought was a flare of temper directed at her, and Sans had never felt like as big of an asshole as he did in that moment. She thought he was angry with her... maybe that he intended to lash out. It was a natural reaction, of course, one he would have expected from anyone he knew in the city... she had no way of knowing how often he lost his temper and he took out his anger on others, but it was an irrefutable truth, even if he'd had no intention to hurt her.

The very thought of it made him physically recoil, made him ill down to the marrow in his bones; he'd sooner cut off his own hands than ever lay a finger on her (or have her fear him as she rightly should), and he knew that with an incontrovertible, furious sort of passion that nearly stole his breath from his body entirely. He didn't even try to deny its presence... it was a simple fact.

Whether she knew or not was inconsequential, though. The fact remained that he'd upset her, that she thought his anger was directed at her and that she might suffer for it, and whatever it was that he thought about her (pretty, soft, tiny, good, precious-), in keeping with his extremely odd behavior that day, it bothered him to his core, so much so that he scrambled for an answer to her former question, to share with her more than she'd asked for in an attempt to make up for his failing.

Things he'd never told anyone else. Things he somehow knew she would understand. Things he knew without a shadow of a doubt she would keep secret, without even being asked to. ...the only thing he wasn't sure of was how he knew. That nameless something whispered it in his mind, pushing him to trust her beyond anyone he ever had without reason or proof, and he didn't doubt it this time, despite his dismissal of the same feeling only moments before.

He supposed, in the end, it truly didn't matter, little voice in his head or not... even if she couldn't be trusted, its not like she was going to follow him to the city and spread the information. He... he was never going to see her again, after they parted company here, when he went back to his life and left the peaceful field and the slightly warmer rock he watched the silent stars from and the little lamb that made him feel like he never had before behind.

...why did that bother him so much?

“my old man made me an’ my bro ta be different. phylacteries, he called us, since we started out empty conduits before tha... treatments. think tha official term is sorcerer, though. some kinda mix b’tween monster an’ human. freak, mosta tha people i know like ta call it. ...my magic runs a bit hot, so y’might be feelin’ that,” he divulged quietly, looking away and across the field as he spoke; it always grated, to speak of Gaster when he usually pretended, extremely fiercely, that the old bastard had never existed at all... it made anger and hatred and rarely felt fear run down his spine, fear that even thinking of him too long would bring him back, and then he'd really be fucked. He raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, trying to settle the hairs that had raised from his own admission and the memories of it, picking nervously at a burn on his jeans with his other hand in an attempt to dismiss the now rampant craving for a cigarette... and flinched unconsciously when a hand, a tiny, soft, warm hand, touched his thick, scarred fingers with the gentleness of a landing butterfly.

He nearly flung it off, unthinking and reactive to sudden contact, but stilled when he looked down at the culprit, his mouth drying even further than it already had been at the sight of her slim, delicate fingers curling to hold his in their grasp. It was almost funny, the difference in the size between them... his palm would encompass her entire hand effortlessly, if he flipped it over and held her hand the way he suddenly wanted to. He was a large man, both tall and broad even without his muscle tone; the magic in his blood had made sure he stood head and shoulders over all but the tallest basketball players... but even in comparison to a normal sized human she would have been small.

He could probably hold her entire weight in the embrace of one arm.

The realization was an odd one, one that he had laughed at in others before... one he'd used to his advantage often. All he could think of now, as the sun rose above them both on the surface of the rock they sat on, knees nearly touching and hands connected with a tenderness and a quiet repose he didn't dare break with his too loud, too brash voice, was that something like her, a being so small and delicate and quite possibly defenseless, was meant to be protected by people like him. That perhaps he had been wrong his entire life, to think his size and his power made him better... they had made him into the perfect guardian, a shield against everything that would ever want to harm her.

That nameless thing was whispering again, begging him to accept this ideal and fall into it as effortlessly as it seemed he could (and it would be effortless... he could feel how right it would be, to be her protector and her comfort), but he shook it off again, hardening his impossibly soft heart as much as he possibly could while her little hand still rested in his.

Whatever it was that was at work here today, whatever spell was addling his mind and filling his head with rainbows and hope and the possibility of love, needed to fuck off. There was no room in his ramshackle life for niceties and pretty little lambs and things like that, and that was how he liked it.

...didn't he?

“That’s so amazing… I didn’t know it was possible!” her soft, melodic voice intoned beside him, drawing Sans from his confused, tangled thoughts and back to the reality of her knelt before him with her little hand in his, her gaze raised to his and her smile gracing him yet again (his heart squeezed in his chest, warmth leeching into his blood that had nothing to do with the rising sun). She squeezed his hand, shifting where she was still curled up on the expanse of his coat, before going on. “Can… can you show me? If that’s not rude…”

If anyone but her had asked, he would have considered it as much; he'd've taught them better personally, even, and made sure they never asked again. But he felt no resistance to the idea even as the query fell from her lips, an eagerness to his compliance that baffled him even as he raised his free hand from his side, already steaming and flaring as his magic rose to his fingertips. It felt almost... intimate, to bare himself like this for her (it was just his magic... why in god's name would that be intimate...), but the knowledge of that didn't halt him, red lighting arching between his fingers and singing in the air as he drew one of his weapons into existence to rest in his palm.

She watched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the thick, heavy bone fell into his hand from thin air, crackling with his magic and thickening the air around it, both of her hands now gripping his like little vices. She let out a quiet gasp, when she was able to catch her breath in her surprise, and nearly made to reach out to touch it (his heart stuttered again, as her hand twitched towards it, a want that overshadowed anything else he'd ever desired filling him to the brim), but pulled back at the last moment, trembling and looking up at him with such wonder and awe that it sent a rush of pride through his blood that instantly made him lightheaded.

“Stars… Conjuration is so difficult, you must be very strong-” she whispered in ardent admiration, her stunning gaze sparkling with the depth of her sincerity, and the combination of it all, of her hands in his, the approval and amazement in her voice, her closeness and her presence and her, the space she took up in the universe and in his mind and in his clenching soul, the whiplash of his culminating feelings and the slow change he could feel overtaking him despite his best effort, sent him physically reeling, losing his balance so quickly and so badly that he nearly fell, his magic shattering into wisps of red mist as his palms slammed into the boulder to keep himself upright.

His heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes, his hangover surging as his brain attempted to steady his various malfunctioning systems; he was gasping for breath through gritted teeth and clenched eyelids, fingers digging into the stone beneath himself to try to stop the trembling he could feel radiating through his entire body... yet through it all, he felt the presence of her hands, shifted from his palm and to his bicep. She was pulling against it, straining to keep him upright despite her much smaller frame, and from where she touched radiated such a deep and penetrating calm that it was all he could do to keep from scooping her into his arms and holding her to his chest, a security and a balm to his overpowered senses.

Was he having a heart attack? Papyrus swore up and down he was going to have one eventually, with all the crap he ate and how much he smoked and drank, yet he had a feeling that wasn't it. His ribs ached with the powerful beats it was attempting to contain, both his heart and his soul working his body into a frenzy... but he felt none of the pain he'd been told to anticipate from an infarction. He felt... warm, and staticky, like the time lightning had struck outside the house and every hair on his body had stood straight up for days. The pounding in his chest didn't feel wrong, it only felt powerful, as though something inside him had changed and grown.

It had something to do with her. It had to, nothing like this had ever happened to him before...

His hearing was slowly returning to him, as the thunder of his heart calmed slightly and allowed him steadier breath, and through the cacophony his mind was making (what could it mean... what was she doing to him? Was it a curse, or some sort of enchantment? It felt wrong to suspect it of her, and he dismissed the thoughts almost immediately, though they were quickly replaced by others), Sans heard her calling to him. She had his thickly muscled arm clutched to her chest now, her arms wrapped around it desperately, and her voice sounded heavy and choked, almost as though she was on the edge of tears.

Oh hell no.

“-n! Please, are you alright?! Please answer, I don't know what to do-” her voice plead as he forced himself to surface from his sudden bout of... whatever the hell that had been, intent on putting her upset to rest, and her stressed, worried face swam into view when he jerked his eyes open at last, her lips trembling and her lashes, indeed, beaded with the beginnings of tears. His heart throbbed at the sight, regret washing ice through his blood, and he immediately pushed himself back upright, releasing the strain off her so suddenly that she staggered a little bit (he reached to catch her, but she seemed to have an incredible equilibrium, and was standing perfectly well without his assistance only a moment later).

She turned on her heel and immediately returned to pat over his shoulders and arms, breathing quite heavily herself and looking absolutely stricken, her expression tight and her little hands shaking.

“I thought you were dying, I thought I'd done something on accident and hurt you-” she sniffled, her head falling and her crown of flowers slipping as she drooped from emotional and physical exhaustion, and the overpowering need to gather her close and hold her rushed through him again, this time to offer comfort instead of receiving it. He'd never been a touchy-feely guy, he got nothing out of hugs or cuddling, but now, the thought of just... holding her, tucking her in his arms and sheltering her from the world, was a craving powerful enough to make his palms itch.

That would likely only make her panic more, though. He owed her actual comfort, not a stranger grabbing at her (were they actually strangers, though? It was beginning to feel less and less like it, especially in the wake of his strange near collapse...), and only reached out to tilt her head back up with the knuckle of his thumb, sending her as reassuring a smile as he was capable of. Her fur was unbelievably soft, even the little of it that he allowed himself to feel before he pulled his hand back to lay numbly at his side, and his thumb tingled upon its parting, the want for more and longer akin to obsession.

“sorry 'bout that, sugar... jus' got dizzy all've a sudden,” he explained as evenly as he was able to, excusing his frailty away with a little white lie (she had no need to know exactly how intense it had been... he didn't want to worry her any further), but she didn't look reassured at all, watching him squint his eyes against the now beating down sunlight and shift uncomfortably to try to keep the pressure off his sore back. Her fingers clenched in the material of his t-shirt's sleeves, her lips firming as she seemed to decide on something, and she looked back to him with the sort of resolution that told him she fully expected him to comply with what she was about to say.

It was an oddity that he only found himself slightly amused by this, rather than annoyed, as he usually would be when anyone assumed to tell him what to do... it was yet another that he wasn't surprised by this discovery. It felt like contentment, somehow knowing that whatever it was she was going to say would be agreeable to him... he didn't mind that in the least.

“I want you to let me heal you. I… It hurts me too, seeing you in pain. I don’t know why, but it does. I promise I won’t hurt you... I only want to help. ...please,” she insisted shakily, her intense firmness fading away the longer she spoke until she plead in a murmur he could barely hear, her grip on his shirt tightening and her gaze falling away, as though abashed. He had a feeling this was one of the first times she'd ever tried to be pushy, and even though it wasn't nearly as poignant as he'd been expecting, Sans had no intention of denying her this time.

There was a nobleness in resisting, in letting her keep her full strength and not waste it on him when he was just going to get drunk again the very next night... but with his bout of cryptic malady, his momentary chivalry was beginning to fade away. He didn't give a shit if she healed him or not... his hangover and his aches and pains would pass. What he did want was her to touch him again, for her to focus her attention and her care on him. He wanted her as near as she'd been while trying to support his weight, and he wanted it with a fury that no longer surprised him; it had felt good, it had felt right and real, and he'd missed it the moment she'd stepped away.

His former protests were nonexistent now, against the selfishness and the intensity of his wants... what had he even been resisting in the first place? Surely nothing that bore any weight against the high it was to have her close. He'd do anything to have it again, and if he could get it through the front of her healing him of his maladies, hell, he'd take it.

“if it’s botherin’ ya that much,” he agreed equably, after a moment that he pretended to think it over (can't be too eager, not yet... such a timid thing, don't wanna scare her away), and bless her little fluffy ass, she didn't even hesitate. Her smile flitted back into existence like the sun peeking through a cloud bank, filling him with a warmth and clarity that dismissed even the worst of his pain, and she reached for him in a way that made him clench his fingers into the material of his jeans so tightly he felt them tear, forcibly reminding himself that she wasn't asking him to sweep her into his arms, no matter what his mind wished and insinuated.

That would come later, and with her permission. Patience... patience. He'd never been good at having patience, far too used to taking what he wanted, but this... this he would wait for.

Besides, it appeared that she had simply been attempting to reach him to heal him; she was dithering now, trying to find a good place to stand while his legs were still sprawled all over the place from when he'd nearly fallen over. She hemmed and hawed for a moment, so cute in her little wonderment that he didn't offer any assistance at all (he'd never been one to play hero, and though he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he'd help her in a trice if she truly needed it, he found himself chuckling while watching her puzzle it out, indulgently amused), before looking back up at him, furrowing her brows and flicking her ears.

“I… um. I need to touch your forehead… could you-” she said lamely, waving her hands at his stained jeans and steel-toed boots, and though he could more than play dumb, a smile perking his lips at his mute teasing, he finally shifted enough that he could prop his shoes against the rock, his knees bent and his elbows set on top of them. His posture would force her to step into the cradle of his thighs, overshadow her in his presence entirely, but she either didn't notice or didn't mind, nodding and clapping her hands together happily.

“Yes, just like that~”

Her stepping between his legs and halting mere inches from his chest, so near he could feel flyaway bits of her wool tickling his forearms (the sweetness of the air was definitely her, she smelled like all the best things in the world, he wanted to clutch her to his chest, bury his face in the curve of her neck, and stay there forever-) was everything he could have dreamed and hadn't had the decency to ask for. Her warmth radiated from her like a miniature sun, the roundness of her hips a breath from the curve of his thumbs... it would be simplicity itself to reach out and touch her, to feel her fur against his skin, to see if her wool was as soft as it looked, to find out how much of her curvaceous body was wool and what wasn't.

To see how she would react, if she would lean into him when he-

Sans balled his hands into fists, where they draped across his knees, digging his blunt nails into his palms to erase the wanton thoughts with the bite of pain. He needed more control than this, and though it was a long shot to bet on himself in that regard, he had to have it. He was an impulsive, desperate son-of-a-bitch, a horn dog at best and a degenerate at worst, but there was a time and a place to let himself get carried away, and this was not it. Feeling up his (his... strangely possessive, yet he didn't shy away from it. In fact, something purred and stretched deep within him at the thought, awakening him to the realization that he quite liked calling her his) little lamb while she was upset, much less out in public, wasn't what he really wanted, no matter what his dick insisted, and he knew it enough to curb his curiosity for the moment.

There would be time to find out what was under that little dress, a thought that intrigued and consumed him in ways he was more than familiar with. Now, though, he wanted the comfort the soft little hands tracing over his cheeks promised him, her touch settling on his face and dragging against his stubble stealing away every thought but the perfection of knowing peace in her embrace. His eyes lidded, entranced by the path she took to press her fingertips to his temples, but he refused to close them entirely, watching her the same as she watched him.

She was so close he could see the little droplets of tears that hadn't dried yet clinging to her lashes... could see flecks of gold in the deep brown of her eyes beneath their cover, could feel her breath washing over his slack, sloppy grin. Her chest rose and fell as she concentrated, nearly touching his, her fur and wool were a deep, lustrous brown that rivaled his own skin tone, and her lips twitched up into a wry grin as her eyes flicked from his forehead and to his own, crinkling with amusement.

“I’m Frisk, by the by. It’s very nice to meet you!”

Sans couldn't have kept from laughing if he'd tried, his nose wrinkling as he chortled raucously at the incredible irony of the moment. Here he was, utterly craven and all but on his knees at her feet, grasping and covetous for her in nearly every way, and he still hadn't known her name.

He honestly wished he could be surprised at himself at this point, but even given the newness of their acquaintance and the outpouring of feelings that he could barely contain when it came to this shining new light in the darkness of his being, he knew who he was. He'd always been selfish, attending to himself above everything else... that would be the first thing he changed, now that he knew she existed in his miserable life. She would come first (heh...) in everything he did, he'd make sure of it.

“sans. ‘n same,” he replied the moment his laughter had faded, his amused grin lingering as he watched her expression greedily and rolled her name around in his head (Frisk... a name he'd never heard before, but it suited her that way. She was like nothing he'd ever known before either), and her own smile grew to echo his, a shared moment of camaraderie that warmed him from head to toe like the ray of sunlight she was.

“Sans...” she murmured beneath her breath, clearly trying out the name the same way he just had been... but hearing her say it aloud was like an electric shock, his throat tightening and the air in his lungs thickening, like he was trying to breathe water. He was absolutely certain his heart skipped a beat, his vision tunneling and locking out everything but her and the sound of her sweet voice calling his name, leaving him lightheaded and softening the sharp slice of his smile into a crooked resemblance of itself.

He'd never cared much for his name... it had been his designation, gifted him from the clinical mind of a madman (“Ironic, isn't it boy? Sans, without: just like you are. Ah... but you've never understood my humor. Small minds... Hold still, you'll upset the tubing.”), kept out of pure spite after his demise. He preferred Red, what most people had taken to calling him over the years... but her, he never wanted to call him anything else. It just sounded... right, coming from her.

The realization left him slightly winded, and more than a little besotted (where was she gonna go after this? What was she doing out here, what were her plans? He'd find a way to see her again, and often, that much was certain... but how far did she plan to go? Hopefully not too far... he didn't think he'd be able to live without seeing her every day, now), watching her little brows furrow as she concentrated her attentions again on doing what she had promised she would. He felt a spark against the skin of his temples at the same moment that something potently green flickered in her gaze, sinking into his blood with the ease and soothing sensation of stepping into a warm bath.

He was instantly relaxed, fingers of magic as gentle as her own smoothing the aches from his muscles and coaxing the pain behind his eyes into nonexistence; in the same way that his magic was a ferocious gale, hers was a calming breeze, not prying or tearing but beckoning, a suggestion that he was free to accept at his own discretion. He took the extended hand of her power without question, letting her in and welcoming more in the blink of an eye, and felt his eyelids flutter closed only a moment after he did, the feeling of her taking the control he'd freely given her far more comforting than he'd ever expected it to be.

His guard was completely down... his defenses set aside in favor of this gentle, quiet moment. She could easily take advantage of him like this, and he knew it... but the small, nameless something he was beginning to like quite a lot whispered that it would all be well. She would never hurt him, he could feel the assurance of it radiating from her and the touch of her hand and the softness of her magic, and he let himself fade from all but the knowledge that he was safe, placing himself entirely in her tiny hands.

Nothing had ever bothered him less, a drastic change from his almost constant anger and annoyance with the world at large, and he nearly fell back asleep, soothed and blissfully empty of all but the dreamlike state of peace she gave him... only roused by the sound of her voice breaking through the fog of contentment surrounding him.

“...I’ve never seen a human before. Even though you aren’t all the way human, I… you’re not what I was expecting,” she was muttering as he shrugged off the blanket of languor reluctantly, drowsy and likely grinning like a fool, and it took him a moment to grasp exactly what she was saying, groggy from teetering on the very edge of sleep and blinking against the sun rising behind her (it made the petals of her crown and the fluff growing thick on the top of her head practically glow, giving her all the appearance of an angel... his angel...) and slowly becoming aware that her hands were wandering across his face, tracing the curve of his pierced brow and shifting a thick, curling lock of his hair from his forehead.

When he did fully hear her words, his mind immediately turned to the worst, dread and anxiety clouding the softness of the moment and making the cold numbness of disappointment rush through him in a tidal wave, freezing his soft, warm heart into stone. He shouldn't be surprised, he'd been nothing but a let down his whole life, why would she be any different, a pure, transcendent being like her wouldn't be impressed by the little he had to offer...

“‘n why’s that?” he grunted shortly, paralyzing upset and the helplessness of scrambling despair turning his mind to white noise (maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could still prove he was worth something; all he needed was a chance, he could show her that he wasn't as pathetic as he seemed, he could, she'd just come into his life she couldn't leave again, she couldn't-), but she didn't seem to notice the tightness his voice had taken on, her gentle gaze tracing over the lines the years had worn into his skin, the edge of her thumb rolling over one of his piercings as she, almost unconsciously, explored the expanse of his visage.

“The only thing our elders told us was that humanity was fierce and powerful. They… I thought that meant you would be unsightly,” she admitted hesitantly, quiet and more shy than she'd been thus far (the blush was back, tinting the soft brown of the fur on her cheeks a dulcet rose, and her ears twitched forward, nearly hiding her eyes completely), and the anxious squabbling of Sans' thoughts died out with a nearly audible sizzle the moment he'd translated what she'd murmured, his eyes widening and his lips popping open in his surprise as his mind clunked along with all the speed of a harbor tugboat.

Was... was she saying what he thought she was?

No other meaning for her admission, or for her reticence, was forthcoming, the way she fidgeted and averted her eyes and yet continued to trace the lines of his face (the edge of a finger grazed his eyelashes, the tip of another trailing along the length of an old scar) telling in all its own ways... and yet it simply wasn't sinking in. Women found him attractive, sure, he used that to his advantage regularly... but there was none of the same sort of hungry lust in her eyes that always glowed in theirs, hopeful that his power and his size and his roughness would be of benefit to them.

He didn't hold back either, gave them what they wanted cuz it suited him just fine (a lay was a lay, all he cared about was getting off), but the simple, frank appreciation in her gaze, the admiration she looked over his face with and the gentleness she employed in touching him, the soft pads of her palms smoothing his beard stubble down with the delicacy she used in everything she did... he'd never been treated like this. It was so foreign, so quiet and intimate and... and... he didn't have the words to describe it.

He didn't understand. Perhaps it had been the abrupt change from worrying that she thought he wasn't good enough to considering that she found him attractive...perhaps it was simply difficult to believe that this perfect, angelic creature could look at him and find something worth admiring. Whatever it was, he was consumed by it, by the disbelief and the confusion and the want (he hadn't questioned it the moment that he'd found her beautiful, no matter their differences... could it really be that she felt the same for him? Was it too much to hope, to ask of the heavens, for this one good thing to become even greater?), his hands shaking in the fists he had forced them into and his chest shuddering as his breaths came short and quick in his anticipatory excitement.

“...you sayin’ i’m easy on tha eyes, sweetheart?” he pressed the moment he was able to move his mouth again, trying desperately to hold back the hopeful thunder of his heart as it hammered against the inside of his ribs, but lost control of it entirely the moment Frisk's blush deepened, her chin ducking down into the neck of her sweater-dress and her shaking hands leaving his cheeks to cross anxiously around her body (he nearly reached out to snatch them back, immediately protesting the loss), her ears now fully covering her eyes. His mind was a riot of cheering, drifting confetti, and budding hearts, his vision fuzzing around the edges until everything looked as soft as she was, as soft as the heart melting into a puddle in his aching chest.

He was full, full of her and affection and a lightness he'd never known, and he was certain, in that moment, that this was what he'd been searching for in his empty, meaningless life, what he'd been missing and had never known it. Nothing he'd ever done had meant a damn thing... he hadn't done anything in his life to be proud of, besides saving his little brother from their bastard of a creator. He'd given up on finding a purpose, he'd cashed in his chips in that regard early. Hadn't seen the point, not when the world conspired to keep him down at every turn.

He was filled with a hope like nothing he'd ever known, though, with reciprocation and possibilities and optimism that made him feel light as air, all through his little lamb's kindness and charity and pure affection and gods, he was never gonna be able to let her go now, it'd destroy him-

“I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t mean to be weird, or too forward. When I found you, though, sleeping under the light of the stars… they told me I should be afraid, when I met a human, and I could tell immediately that you were intimidating... but I couldn't help but admire you. From a distance! I promise I didn't do anything! I just... I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier person…” she whispered bashfully through the haze of his joyous ecstasy, playing with the hem of her sweater-dress and looking up at him from beneath the cover of her lashes and her velvet ears, and he could barely get his tongue to work, flattered beyond comprehension and still swept away by the thought that maybe, maybe he actually had a shot here (he couldn't fuck this one up, he wouldn't let himself; she was too perfect to let go, he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to-).

He struggled with it all for a moment, utterly speechless and trying his best to force his befuddled mind to find a way to explain it away (he could feel something that felt a lot like addiction taking hold, he recognized it's pull, and he knew he couldn't let her know how desperate he was yet, it'd definitely frighten her), settling on the first nonsense he could force out and hoping he wasn't making too much a fool of himself.

“...uh. ’m… sorry, i... never been called pretty before.”

Frisk giggled at that, bright and amused and he fell just a little bit deeper at the sound of it, her fingers winding together before her as she bounced on the tips of her toes (so goddamn fucking cute, what the hell...), and she sent him a wink so teasing that it made his heart flutter like a bird's wing, a blush of his own that he was certain he'd never worn before springing to life on his cheekbones.

“Well. Now you have,” she snickered, smiling and sincere and so fuckin' beautiful as she swayed in place and her tail swished around her legs and she watched him watching her back, and Sans couldn't help but laugh along with her, so lost to this incredibly soft, private moment that meant nothing to the rest of the world but everything to him.

He'd wondered, when he woke, how he came to be here... and what could only be fifteen minutes later, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Was it luck, long dormant and springing upon him all at once? Was it fate, the long road behind him leading him to this exact moment? He didn't know... and he didn't care.

It didn't matter, what name he gave it, what force or power was behind it. He was here, and so was she... it was a new beginning that he wasn't sure he deserved, but one he sure as hell was gonna take. Only an utter moron would give up a chance at heaven, and he could already tell she would be his.

That nameless something confirmed it, stood strong at his back to press him onward, and he, with a confidence he'd long employed but felt was only practice leading up to this moment, reached out and took her soft, delicate paw in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and sending her his best, most charming smile.

“thanks sugar... ain't much, but you're the prettiest monster i ever seen, so. guess we're even, heh.”

Her round little cheeks flushed a deeper pink than he'd seen thus far, a tiny gasp leaving her parted lips, her momentarily flirtatious persona fleeing her and clearly leaving her scrambling for an answer of her own, and his ego swelled almost uncontrollably. Her chin dipped again, trying to hide away from him in the shade of her ears, and it was all he could do not to pull her into the enclosure of his body again... but this time, to press her against him fully, raise her chin and watch her eyes widen and sparkle, feel her sweet breath on his lips before he leaned into her and did what he truly wanted to.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her in a way he hadn't kissed anyone since he'd been a kid, explorative and tentative but desperate to show the depth of his affection without asking for more (that would come in time, he'd take it as slow as he was capable of, show her he could be good to her), kiss her until neither of them could breathe for the passion of it, and he wanted it so badly his fingers tingled with nerves and desire... but he held back, clenching his fists harder and biting his tongue until the piercing dug into the roof of his mouth and he tasted blood.

He wouldn't kiss her now, not with the scent of another woman on him, stale but still present from his previous night's debauchery. He wouldn't disrespect her like that, would never make her think she was just another conquest to him... a curiosity to be assuaged. She was everything, and he'd make sure she never doubted that. He wasn't sure about a lot of things, especially in what lay ahead for them... but one thing he knew he could guarantee was that.

Next time they met, he'd do it. They would find each other again, he'd make damn sure they did, and he'd kiss the hell out of her the second he could get her in his arms.

Shit... he'd have to start investing in mints. Maybe smoke a bit less, she probably wouldn't like that…

Outside of his amorous thoughts, Frisk was clearly searching for a subject change, out of her element but not seeking to pull her hand from his (in fact, she slid her fingers into his grasp more securely), and seized upon one as she glanced back up at his forehead, seeming to recall her former occupation before being distracted.

“Is... is the pain better? I'm sorry if not... Like I said, I'm not very good...” she queried, gesturing vaguely at his head with a wave of her free hand, and it took Sans a moment to recall what she was referring to, furrowing his brows and forcing himself out of his vivid imaginings, before making a small sound of realization and nodding in confirmation.

He'd honestly completely forgotten that he'd been in pain at all... falling head over heels tended to do that to a guy.

“loads. don't think i've felt this good... ever,” he admitted completely truthfully, rolling his broad shoulders and twisting his neck to crack it several times (good stuff, healing magic... he'd have to make sure no one ever found out she had it. Never found out about her at all, if he could help it), and she looked ecstatic at the news, grasping his extended hand in both of hers and squeezing it as she smiled infectiously.

“I'm so glad I could help!” she gushed, jumping in place, and even with the tenderness of the just dismissed moment, the tenderness he still felt as he watched her celebrate his recovery (and, he had to admit, watching her breasts bounce while trying his hardest to keep his smile from twisting into the smirk it was attempting to), he felt, with a strange sort of inevitability, his happiness begin to fade, punctured by the realization that she was being far too giving and trusting. She had trusted him so quickly that it honestly made his head spin, and were he anyone else... He absolutely could have done this gentle creature ill.

He could have used her easy trust, bent her to his will... he could have intended to hurt her, suss out her powers to use them for himself, or any number of other terrible things. He didn't even want to think about what it could have meant for her to fall victim to a predator, either an animal larger than her or a person intending to harm her... just considering it for the swift moment that he did made a spark of rage ignite inside him, his teeth gritting and his free hand clenching so hard his knuckles popped.

He would never be ungrateful that she was here, that he knew she existed in his world and that maybe, maybe there was hope for him after all... but what was she doing out here, especially by herself? Shouldn't she be with her people, not out in the wide, unforgiving and selfish human world? She was too kind. Too giving.

Too good. For the city, for the world... for him, too. But just too... good.

“why’re ya out here alone, darlin'? why’d ya leave tha mountain?” he asked quietly, heavy brows lowering over darkening eyes and thick, rough fingers squeezing the ones she had slid into his grasp gently, and Frisk blinked, stopping midjump and letting out a small gasp, as though she had just remembered why she was there in the first place.

“Oh! I… well, I found a way to escape, and I was going down to the city I saw from the mountain, to ask for help! We’ve been trapped down there for a long time, much longer than I’ve been alive… and I wanted to find a way to free my people,” she replied soberly, hanging her head and looking down to the toe of one of his boots as she spoke of the mountain she had escaped, of her trapped people, and an entire menagerie of emotions stampeded through Sans, empathy and anger and worry and admiration and outright fear flaring and burying all but the strongest of his former feelings.

It was incredibly noble of her to try to save her people, to appoint herself the duty of their hero and brave a world she had no idea about... but it was also incredibly foolish and naive. She was going to get herself killed, especially if she was heading to the city (she'd end up dead, or far worse, the moment she set foot there alone), and in the wake of all he had felt for her, all the things they could be and the way she made him feel... he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let her sentence herself to a pointless death.

“sweetheart… that’s a nice plan’n all… but ain't no one there gonna help ya,” he sighed, raising a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose as his sharpened teeth ground together (the anger was getting hotter and hotter the more he considered what would befall her, searing his insides like acid; he needed to stop, he couldn't lose his temper now, it'd scare her), and Frisk jolted, wide-eyed as she looked up at him cautiously. Her hands were still and stiff in his now, her back ramrod straight and her breaths short and terse.

“Wh-what?”

Monsters must be less like humans and more like her, for her to be so surprised... she truly had no idea what they were like. ...what he was like, behind the temperance he'd been able to show her so far. He cringed, within, shuddering at the thought of what she'd have been greeted by there... what she would have thought of him, outside the brightness of the sun and the field of flowers she had found him in. If she'd have thought him so pretty in the back alleys he slouched through and committed foul deeds in, if she'd have been so kind if she knew the things he'd done just for the pleasure of doing them.

...pointless conjecture. That wasn't how it had happened, and it never would, not if he could help it.

“they’ll just kill ya. put ya in a zoo, dissect ya in a lab… run ya down in tha street. t’ain’t safe for someone like you. ...ain’t safe for most, really, but especially not for pretty little monsters that trust too easy. y'won't live ta see next week,” he warned, shaking his head jerkily and tightening his jaw so hard it cracked audibly (won't happen. Won't happen. He'd kill anyone that even thought about touching her, tried to take her away from him, he'd swear it in front of any god and all the stars in the sky-), and Frisk, so slowly that it physically hurt, pulled her hands back and against her now heaving chest, her little body trembling and her eyes sparkling with tears.

Shit... shit, he hadn't meant to make her cry, fuck-

“...That can’t be true. They… I have to find help, I p-promised I would...” she stuttered, clutching at her sweater as though trying to hold herself together with just her soft little hands, and he'd never felt so useless, so utterly useless, in his entire life. All he could do was just sit on his hands and watch her break down, her overflowing happiness and positivity leeching away more and more with every tear she shed.

She choked on a sob, trying desperately to hold it back but failing, and sank to the ground as the fire that had lit her soul was extinguished in the gales of her own misery, her head dipping and the droplets of her tears falling to stain the rock and mat down the fur on his jacket. She looked so... so small, curled into herself and starting to rock in place... he couldn't have kept from scooting closer to her, reaching out to stroke her back as gently as he was able to (his hands were so scarred and coarse, they caught on her sweater and he felt so awkward, he wasn't good at this, but he wanted to help so badly), if he'd had the mind to try.

He didn't know how he could possibly help, but he needed to, he couldn't stand her crying, it hurt so much…

“hey… hey, don’t cry, honey… ‘s alright… it'll be fine, you'll see,” he whispered, sweet nothings that felt so incredibly odd on his tongue but slipped from his lips before he could stop them, and though her sobbing didn't cease, her tears didn't stop falling from her watery gaze... she lifted her head, sniffling and shaking, to look up at him pleadingly, her arms raising from her hold on her dress to reach from him.

It was an invitation, the one he'd been waiting for but had suspected he wouldn't receive (at least not today), and he took it without hesitation, shifting his posture to give himself room as he reached for her just the same, welcoming her in with a heart full of gleeful anticipation. She crawled into his embrace only a moment later, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, and he enfolded her in his embrace, moving her from her feet so he bore her entire weight.

...and dear fucking god, it was better than he could have possibly imagined.

It was like holding a slightly weepy but very warm cloud, composed completely of the feelings of peace and calm that he came out here for in the first place, radiating through his chest and all the way through his body in waves of absolute bliss that washed away everything but happiness in a trice. She was the perfect size as well, curled into the curve of his arm so comfortably, settled against his chest and shoulder so right (he could feel her stuttering little breaths against his throat, her tears dripping down to stain his t-shirt more than it already was, but they were slowing already), that he was absolutely certain he could carry her for hours and not be burdened.

It had been a miracle and a mistake all in one to allow himself this. He had never felt so complete, so absolutely fulfilled, than with her clinging to him and taking comfort in him, with a perfect, delicate being curled in his arms, dependent on his care and trusting him to give it... but he also had never felt such incredible, pervasive greed, either, the hand not cupping her thigh securely picking up its stroking along her back, his cheek settling against the fluffy, impossibly soft top of her head and his mind whirling into darker and darker places the longer and harder she clung to him.

He’d gotten a glimpse of eternity, here today… he was certain he now knew what actual, real happiness was, pure and simple and good. It was her in his arms, it was her scent in his head and her voice saying his name, the sound of her laughter and her hand taking his… there was no going back from that. There would be no returning to his empty house and his empty room and his empty bed and his empty life alone again… there would be no letting her go about her business, only intruding when he felt he was allowed. Good things were rare to the point of nonexistence, in his experience… things as good as her the stuff of legends. He’d be a fool of monumental proportions if he let that go for even a moment, and no matter what people liked to insinuate about him, Sans was no fool.

He needed to find a way to make this last, to keep her close, without alarming her. He found himself suddenly grateful that she was so trusting… so easy to convince. She clearly put value in his words, as well… there must be something he could do or say, something he could twist to fulfill his selfish, grasping need. There was a twinge of wrongness to the thought, some little needling thing that prodded at him, chastising him for thinking to manipulate her… but it was easily silenced, pushed aside and mollified. This wasn’t just for him, after all… it was for them.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Her cries were slowly quieting, where she lay securely in his embrace (she’d never be safer anywhere, he’d outlive the stars through sheer stubbornness to make sure she never suffered again), her breathing steadying and her tears ebbing; he flattered himself, as she took a lock of his hair in hand to twirl around one of her fingers, that he was having the same effect on her that she had on him, that perhaps she felt the rightness of this and what they could be together in her soul. The consideration bolstered his ego, his pride and confidence surging (of course it was right, it felt so good to have her, what could be wrong about that-), a broad and self-satisfied smile curving across his face as he pressed it to the top of her head in a phantom kiss, an emulation of what he really desired.

In time. They’d have plenty of it, if he got his way.

Frisk sniffled quietly, in his grasp, tracing a line of silver through the lock of hair she was toying with with a shaking forefinger, and glanced up at him through her thick lashes, hiccuping softly in her faltering outburst of misery.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do Sans… If they won’t listen, if they'll j-just... I can't do anything. I'll have to go back, and I can’t… I can’t go back in there, I can’t…” she whimpered, her voice breaking in… in what he could only name fear, and it was everything he could do to hold in the bestial snarl of rage that rose to his tongue the moment he realized it, his before settled anger flaring in the worst of ways. She should never have to fear anything, going back to what should be a home to her least of all (not that she would be… going back was out of the question, obviously), and a consuming and complete hatred of the unknown beings beneath the mountain rose within him inescapably, his hardened, sparking gaze moving from her face and to the inactive volcano’s imposing facade.

Had they threatened her? Had she not left, as she’d said, of her own goodwill, but on an appointed errand that demanded success upon pain of death? His mind whirled with questions, each more accusing and bitter than the last (all the more reason for her to never return… fuck’em all, if they’d had the gall to make his angel so terrified), but his silence was concerning her… he could feel her eyes on his expression, registering the set of his jaw and the curl of his upper lip. Her reaction to his last show of anger hadn’t been ideal… he needed to calm down.

It was pointless to be angry with the monsters still trapped beneath the mountain, after all… the only one he gave even the tiniest shit about was right here in his arms, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving them.

“would they be mad atcha? fer failin’?” he grunted out, forcing calm into his voice and nothingness into his expression as he stared blankly at the far off mountain (it didn’t matter… it didn’t matter, she was here now, and they weren’t gonna came after her… if they did, if they found some way out, he’d take care of them before they ever got to her, it didn’t matter, damnit), and his quick, even response seemed to soothe her growing worry, her brow unknitting and one of her hands shifting to lay against his chest.

“No… they didn’t want me to leave in the first place… but it’s… it’s a prison, it’s claustrophobic and crushing and I can’t- I feel so selfish, but you don’t know what it’s like to be trapped away from where you know you belong, to find what you've been longing for and have it ripped away so quickly...” she murmured, her gaze turning to the sky overhead as she set her head against his shoulder again, and his eyes turned back to her, a small, indulgent, secret smile pulling at his lips.

Before today, he wouldn't have had a clue. He'd attached himself to nothing so as to miss it that much, had no such strong feelings for anyone or anything; becoming too fond anything in his world was just asking to have it stolen, broken, or killed. Besides Papyrus, there was nothing in his life even worth trying to keep around enough to miss it, or long for it, nothing but his vices and various addictions.

Now, though... now, as he looked down at the delicate, weeping little lamb in his arms, clinging to him for comfort and safety and reassurance in the storm of her tribulation... now, he knew. He knew it so intimately that his heart broke with it, with the thought of her ripping herself out of his life and returning to the mountain. The void she would leave behind would be impossible to repair or fill, he knew it without a shadow of a doubt… and he wasn’t going to allow it.

Duty or not, she wouldn’t be leaving him… and now he had his in.

“...i do, frisk. i really do,” he replied in an undertone, the hand stroking her back soothingly moving up to smooth her ears down and to press her head further into his shoulder (she didn’t even resist, precious thing…), rocking her in his embrace and raising his gaze again to the rolling foothills in the distance, blind to all but the thoughts simmering in his mind.

It was too simple. She didn’t even want to go back to the mountain, despite her attachment to her people… she couldn’t complete the task ahead of her either, at least not alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let her remove herself from his life in either fashion… and the answer to it all was clear, set before him as though it had always been there, just waiting for him to discover it. A little bit of sabotage on his part, playing up the impossibility of it all, and she would be all his, for good.

He knew that keeping her from her mission would mean her people stayed imprisoned (not that he cared much, to be frank)... he knew she probably wouldn't like it much, at least at first.

He'd taken the hard road before, though. He'd done the things no one else would do, he’d been the bastard and the heel. And if her staying alive, in his life and able to be the comfort to him that she'd been thus far (who knew, maybe was the same for her… and if not, maybe one day he could be), required not just protecting her, but keeping her... well.

He could do that too.

Sans could feel himself settling into the familiar backdrop of his shadowy world, in his considerations... could feel the rusty cogs of treacherous machinations beginning to turn. He hadn't had to do the sort of work this would need for some time, but he remembered the ropes... the hardest part would be her, convincing her it was for the best, and convincing everyone else she wasn't worth the trouble. It would require finesse, likely Papyrus' help too (he’d better not dig his heels in too much, either, this was important). Slight manipulation... a few little lies. Some intimidation, easy enough... some bribery, a little harder. What some might term coercion, but he was choosing to consider momentarily forced protection.

There's no reason this couldn't work... he'd make sure that it did. He had to. The consequences were too severe to even dream of in his worst nightmares, and the rewards everything he’d ever wanted.

She’d forgive him, in time. He knew that already, without doubting it for a moment.

“...maybe i can help ya. my brother an’ me… we could protect ya, help ya find whatcha need. we ain’t pushovers, an’ we got a house y’can stay at,” he mused aloud after he had forced down the nerves and excitement desperately trying to spoil it all by making him tremble like a little girl with a sugar rush, and Frisk sniffled again, the rubbing of the material of his t-shirt between her fingers idly halting and her head turning so she could look up at him through her drying tears. His heart thumped loudly at the play of a smile around her mouth, hopeful and bright and the most beautiful thing in the world to him; he’d missed it fiercely in just the few moments it’d been gone.

“...Really? You’d do that?” she queried halteringly, wiping ineffectually at the tears clinging to the short fur of her face with the backs of her hands, and Sans chuckled dotingly, shifting his hands to swipe at them for her. She blushed gently, under the contact, moving her hands to hold his wrist trustingly as he swept away her tears (for the love of Christ, he could feel her tail wagging against his thigh, if she got any goddamn cuter he was gonna embarrass himself-), and he shared her smile, encouraging and charming as he could possibly be.

She had no reason to distrust him… he could see the knowledge of it in her doe-like, beautiful eyes. Misplaced, perhaps, but it was fine. He’d earn if back, after the minor breaks he made to it.

“i ain’t heartless, baby doll… i can’t letcha go back somewhere ya don’t wanna, not when ya hate it so bad, an’ i ain’t about ta let ya get hurt. not if i can help it,” he swore, not having to lie in the least (he did technically have a heart, unused and forgotten as it was, and every little black piece of it was hers and hers alone), and the sheer joy that radiated from her, filling him near to bursting just being close to her as it swept the rest of her listless melancholy from her, nearly blinded him with its radiance, everything outside the warmth of her hands rising to hold his face between them and the sparkle of her gaze lost to him.

She was glowing, with more than just the sun now beating down on the both of them, and he found he couldn’t breathe quite right, the way she was looking at him now… as though she was feeling just what he was, that she couldn’t have been more grateful than to be in his embrace and have found out that he existed too, and raised herself from his arms to press her forehead to his, her eyes shuttering and her form stilling completely.

The breeze danced around them, the birds flitted from their boughs to swipe at the waking butterflies and trill at the flower-scented air… she let out a tremulous sigh, sanguine in their repose, her sweet breath gusting across his lips and singing in his blood.

“I knew you were special. I knew it the moment I saw you, I felt it in my soul; the stars led me to you, we were meant to meet. Thank you, Sans, thank you…” she whispered gratefully, as she pulled back after a timeless moment of contented peace he couldn’t even begin to name (he… he’d slept his way through more women than he cared to count, but he had never experienced anything as intimate as that simple gesture had been), and lingered one moment longer, before dancing out of his arms and along the surface of the boulder for an unknown reason, to press a kiss to his stubbly cheek.

The guilt was back the moment she skipped away, hissing in his ear and reprimanding him for deceiving this angelic creature, but again, it was easily ignored, especially with the press of her lips to his cheek somehow lingering on despite her departure, brushing against the corner of his mouth and stealing all but thoughts of getting another from her. He raised his fingers to touch there, leaning back on his other hand and watching her disappear behind an outcropping of stone, and smiled crookedly to himself.

“no problem, sugar... ain’t no problem t’all.”

And it wasn’t, it truly wasn’t. Sure, it wasn’t going to be easy to keep a monster hidden in his house, especially when she started wondering why he wasn’t making good on his promise to help her (it was bound to happen eventually, he was more than aware of that, but he had little honor to lose in that regard… and he’d find a way to convince her of his good intentions again, he was sure of it), but in his eyes, the benefits far outweighed any struggle it would be.

Besides… he’d thought of a way to keep most outside interference and questions at bay. He was already a freak in most people’s eyes, someone to fear and not question beyond the barbs whispered behind his back… it wouldn’t be so strange for a weirdo like him to adopt a pet sheep on a whim. Sheep needed homes too, didn’t they? Of course they did.

...maybe not foolproof, but it’d work until he could workshop something with his brother later… and it would get him something else that he wanted at the same time, something that, as the tingling press of her innocent kiss faded, resurfaced in his mind and twisted his smile into a perverse smirk. One small indulgence... just one. She was sacrificing so much already and didn't even know it... this would be all that he asked of her for the sake of their ruse.

Sans knew it was a lie even as he thought it, knew he was setting a trap for himself that even he could scent out (seeing his collar on her was only going to make him want more, would only encourage the rampant desire he was trying to hold back) but it didn't stop him as he reached up to the collar strapped around his throat, unbuckling the thick, spiked leather and sliding it from around his neck and into his hands. He weighed it in his palms, considering and contemplating (it was pretty dirty, and it didn’t really smell all that stellar, considering the kind of shit he got up to... but it’d do for now, until he could buy one just for her), and rubbed the worst of the smudges from it onto his jeans just as Frisk leaped back up onto the rock, a little backpack now in place on her shoulders.

He grunted as he stood much more laboriously, heaving his greater bulk from the ground and stomping the feeling back into his feet as he gained them (hot damn, he’d been sitting on that rock awhile… healing magic or not, that one was gonna stick for a while), before beckoning to her with a crooked finger and an inviting smile, swiping up his jacket from the ground and throwing it over one shoulder carelessly as he did so. His smile grew as she approached, unsuspecting and chipper and flush with her joy, and he reached out to drag his thumb along her jaw gently when she stopped before him, fond and admiring.

She leaned into his touch, her happy grin softening and her lashes fluttering prettily, and he let out a quiet huff of appreciation before moving to one knee before her, her bright inquisitiveness and bashful demeanor only adding fuel to the fire of his need to see her wearing his collar.

“jus’ one thing before we head out, darlin’… somethin’ that’ll help keep ya safe,” he professed, juggling the collar between his hands just out of sight, and Frisk nodded encouragingly, glancing at his hands with something akin to excited curiosity. He could hear the cogs in her mind turning, wondering if he had some sort of protection charm he was going to give her, had some enchanted item that would keep her from harm… heh.

Something like that.

“i’m gonna need ya ta wear this,” he went on, at last holding the collar out to her, and she reached for it before even realizing what it was, taking the aged leather and turning it in her palms before recognizing it. Her eyes widened, flashing from it, to the now bare base of his throat, and back to the object in her hands, her cheeks turning a shade of red he wasn’t yet familiar with but wanted desperately to become acquainted with. The buckle jingled quietly, as her hands trembled, and her gaze rose to meet his tentatively, her teeth worrying her lower lip dubiously.

“...W-why?” she queried in a quiet, shy voice, clearly concerned by the implication, but he had anticipated that, reaching up to tap the place it used to reside around his own throat.

“i’ve had that collar fer goin’ on ten years. my bro got it for me as a joke, an’ i leaned into it… people know it’s mine. they see ya wearin’ it if i ain’t around, they’ll know you’re mi- uh. under my protection. and ain’t no one fucks with me an’ mine,” he explained, nearly slipping and admitting to one of his most sincere wants as he did (his… all his), and Frisk swallowed mutely, nodding her understanding and looking down at the collar in her hands again.

“Oh… okay. If it’ll help, sure,” she murmured slowly, clearly dubious but laying her trust in his hands. She turned it over several times, pressing a thumb to one of the dull spikes and flicking at the buckle, before nodding, seeming to steel herself, and raising it to her plush throat, fumbling with the clasp and the logistics of attaching something that she couldn’t see (he nearly offered to help, but held back, far, far too happy to indulge in the sight of her practically binding herself to him). It took her a few moments, a little pink tongue extending beyond her lips that he found himself way too interested in, before it was in place, stark red and gold against the chocolate brown of her fleecy wool, and Sans could have purred at the sight of it, a dark, possessive sort of satisfaction settling into his bones as he reached out to adjust the neckline of her sweater, so the collar could be more easily seen.

It wouldn’t do for anyone to not know who she belonged to… it wouldn’t do at all.

“believe me, sweetheart… it helps,” he assured her, dragging a finger along the studded leather and doing his level best to keep from crowing in victory (keep your fuckin’ head on, moron, job ain’t done yet…), and smirked up at her when her breath hitched at the casualness of his touch, sending her a wink that, much to his anticipation and delight, only made her blush grow darker.

Cute as fuck...

“now c’mon. sooner we getcha home, tha better, an' it's a long drive back to tha city,” he encouraged, holding out one arm wordlessly to indicate that she was being welcomed back into his embrace (she was gonna have to get real used to that… he’d have her in his arms every second he could manage it), and she hesitated for a moment, long enough to send a lick of annoyance through his blood but short enough to extinguish it the second she took a step forward, before she accepted the offer and let him sweep her back off her feet, hands on his shoulder and expression conflicted as he stood and hopped off the boulder, thoughtlessly crushing flowers under his boots as he strode towards the road, his bike, and the future that lay ahead of them both.

He had a future to look forward to, suddenly... something worth coming home to, something to work his ass off for. He’d have scoffed at the thought that that could be what he wanted only yesterday… and yet now, as gravel crunched beneath his heel and the wind blew his hair from his face and his little lost lamb clung to him, he knew it was everything he could have ever hoped for.

It’d be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he could tell already that it’d be worth it, and that was a novelty he knew would never get old.

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