#so it's just absolutely gut-wrenching to see those same patterns played out again and again and again

[petrichor-moss-and-lightning]

watching this clip again and thinking about girlhood and reflection and time and gender roles. like, i see my 7-year old niece, and it's gut-wrenching to watch her be pushed into the same eldest-daughter patterns of performance and forced perfection that i was as a kid, knowing what waits for her and yet not being able to save her.

#as a kid/teen i was forced into perfection -- top grades. constantly performing. constantly being responsible. no fuck ups EVER. #ALWAYS empathetic. always compassionate. always having to regulate my emotions when adults around me exploded in fury. #i could go on. but all this screwed with my self-perception and sense of self-worth + self-esteem for literal DECADES #so it's just absolutely gut-wrenching to see those same patterns played out again and again and again #and i don't know how to fix it #does this make sense? i'm rambling again. it's late and i'm tired but god is girlhood so heavy #disclaimer: i'm approaching this as a white middle class person in the global north so my perception is influenced by those privileges #experiences of girlhood are affected by intersecting identities of race/class/etc. so my pov is very limited in that regard #on girlhood #feminism

[unlikelymilkshakedream]

A/n: Hello! Really important, before you read this, this was inspired by @negans-lucille-tblr 's Daddys Little Princess one-shot. Please read that before you read this or it won't make sense. She has many more amazing fics so read those as well. Enjoy!

*tw* sexual assault, rape

**Flash forwards 3 weeks after the original story**

It all just started as a typical night, your brothers and dad on a hunt as you sat in the freezing motel room with an involuntary shiver running down your spine.

As you lay on the couch, not able to fall asleep, watching the stupid soap opera on the black and white TV, your mind traveled and you wished it hadn't. It hadn't been long since the night you came home from a party, clearing showing signs you had had sex.

The only problem is, you don't remember it. You do however remember the fury you saw in your fathers eyes when your two brothers brought you home and he saw the state you were in. You were sure he was going to shoot you on the spot. You didnt want him to be mad at you, you hadn't even remembered the sex.

As soon as he saw you, you knew he was doing his best to keep from grabbing a knife and stabbing you. You were more scared than you've ever been in that moment because he's never been mad at you ever. To see him like that had you thinking of an escape plan. He instead decided to get the hell out of dodge.

So there you were laying in your motel room three states over, with the thinnest blanket ever. You hadn't even know you had fallen asleep until the door swung open and the lights flicked on. You covered your head with the blanket and let out an audible groan.

"Y/n? What the hell are you doing?" Your brother sam asked you.

"I was sleeping, turn off the fucking light." The absolute worst way to wake someone up was by turning on the lights.

"Y/n, language. Dean get the lights." Dean walked through the door and turned off the lights.

"Where were you guys anyway? Nothing can be open at this hour." You sat up and rubbed your eyes, stretching your back and your shirt rode up a little. You failed to realize the quickly averted eyes of sam and dean.

"Salt n burn. Quick and easy, sorry to wake you sweetheart, go back to sleep. In fact that goes for all of you." John said as he kissed your head.

"Okay daddy." You yawned as you layed down and fell asleep again.

The next morning you woke up and only sam and dean were there. "Wheres dad?" You asked as you walked into the kitchen, your shirt settling on your hips nicely.

"Coroner's office, they called and said it was urgent." You grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down next to dean.

"And you guys didn't go with him? If its urgent why wouldn't you go?" Sam shrugged.

"He said he wanted us to stay with you until you wake up. Now that your up, we have to go into town. A woman called and said her house was broken into. Figured we check it out for dad." You nodded sipping your coffee. Soon enough sam and dean left you.

"Alone, once again, oh joy." You said to yourself. You decided to take a nice long hot shower. Going to the bathroom, you turn the water on, temperature all the way up. Once your shower was over, you threw on some shorts and a hoodie. You walked out and turned on the TV, watching the film that was on.

As the hours ticked by, you hadn't heard anything from anyone. You called your dad but got no answer, called again and got no answer so decided to call dean. As his voice-mail started to play, you found it incredibly weird that no one was answering. Just then the door burst open and in walked sam and dean.

"Hey y/n, whats up?" Dean asked as he set down food on the table. Sam followed and you sighed relief.

"I called you and dad multiple times. Got no answer. Where were you all day?" You stood and walked to the table annoyed.

"Well we went to the woman's house and looked around. Guess what we found." You looked at him annoyed. "Sulfur." Your nose scrunched up.

"How? I thought dad said there was a ghost not demon." You sat down across from your brothers who were devouring their food.

"Well he must've been wrong because we went to the hospital and saw a pattern. Every victim went to the same house on the old road outside town. Dad decided to go take a look at the house." You swallowed your food.

"Again, why didn't you go with him?"

"We were hungry and he said if he needed anything he'd come get us." You nodded and finished your food. You looked outside seeing the dark sky night.

Just then, your phone buzzed multiple times. You looked at it and saw a text from someone from the school you had gone to 3 weeks prior, the one your dad fled from. It was the only person from there you still had the number of. You look at sam and dean who are looking at you.

"Apparently California has an earthquake. A news app just alerted me." You lied. They both nodded and went back to their food. A second later, the phone buzzed in your hand, not nearly as loud at the previous messages. You look at your phone and see a video from Caleb, the kid you kept the number of.

"Hey I'm gonna use the bathroom." Both of your brothers nodded. They didn't think anything of your behavior. Both of them quickly decided they would never tell a sole what they did, seeing as you didn't know anything. They were going to take the secret to their graves.

Once you got inside the bathroom, you opened the text conversation between you and Caleb. You saw three new texts with a video. The texts confused you.

There's no way this is you, right?

Did you really do that?

Im so sorry you had to see it this way.

You were so confused, you opened the video and saw something you never thought you'd ever see. It was a video of the night of the party, the night your dad took you from the town you were in. You were seen laying on the bed, your eyes closed and you saw the guy above you. You recognized him from the school and hated him instantly.

As the video played, you saw your brothers come into the room and stopped the guy, you were asleep and it was clear he was trying to take advantage of you. You saw your brothers beat the guy and kick him out of the room. You didn't think that much of it, in fact you were proud that they protected you like you knew you would protect them.

You didn't think anything of it and were about to close the video when you saw dean start touching you, in places he shouldn't.

You eyes were glued to the screen as your jaw fell open and all thoughts left your brain, except 'there's no fucking way.' You watched as sam and dean opened your legs, as dean started fingering you and as sam watched. You realized it was from a corner of the room, a security camera possibly.

When you saw dean take his dick out if his pants and move yours down, you felt tears slip down your cheeks. You kept silently begging it not to happen, but then it did. You watched as dean put his cock in your pussy and start fucking you, you saw sam watching and getting hard. You saw dean holding you down. Tears were streaming down your face and everything in you told you to turn it off, but then something even worse happened.

Dean pulled out and came on your stomach, and you saw sam hesitantly come between your legs. "No sammy," you whispered as more tears streamed down your face. You watched as sam started fucking you and moaning, seeing you laying there with no control over what was happening, you felt sick to your stomach. You watched as you started to wake up and dean held you down and you cried even more.

You watched as sam grabbed your thigh, and you looked down at your current thigh, seeing a bruise that looked like someone grabbed you. You had it since that night and then it hit you, sam gave it to you.

At this point, you turned off the video and started pacing, you were having a panic attack as you tried to disbelieve what you had just witnessed. 'There's no way, there's no way, there's no way that just happened.' But it did and you couldn't deny the gut wrenching feeling of the so dark truth you knew.

Just then, you heard a knock on the door, followed by deans voice. "Y/n, you die in there or something?" You froze, dean. The same dean that, no, that raped you. They both, truly raped you. It hit you like a freight train, your brothers, raped you. "Y/n?" He knocked again.

You took a deep breathe and tried to compose you voice. "Y-yeah, give me a sec." You said in the most wobbly, broken voice you had ever heard. You mentally cursed yourself, now he knew something was wrong. "Y/n, open the door. Now." You were shaking at how scared you were of him. "Y/n open the god damn door!" He screamed. You knew sam was next to him and were so scared by both of them. You tried your best to wipe your tears off of your face.

As you opened the door, you saw sam and dean at the threshold, staring at you. It was sam who spoke up.

"Y/n, are you okay? What happned?" He reached for your arm, which you recoiled harshly at, that certainly didn't go unnoticed by either of them. All your effort to stop the tears failed as you looked up at them.

"What did you do to me?" You whispered so quietly, they almost didn't hear you. With tears streaming down your face, you showed them your phone, the video still on your screen. Sam looked like he'd seen a ghost and dean looked like he just shit himself. As dean went to say something, the door to the motel room burst open and in came you father.

"Sam, dean, y/n, let's go. We got a house of demons outside town that need to be killed- whats going on?" He was packing his guns in a hurry but stopped when he saw the three of you frozen to the spot. Both of your brothers looked towards you.

"Nothing daddy, just cramps. Where're the demons?" He walked over to you as sam and dean walked away.

"Baby do you need to stay here? We need your help but if you can't I get it." You shook your head, tears completely gone.

"No daddy, I'm fine I promise, I can help, I want to." You needed to help your father, but you were so scared of sam and dean. He started packing his guns and you went to his truck with him. "Sam, dean follow us, come on sweetheart." As you climbed into his truck, you didn't dare look at sam and dean. They got into the impala silently as you and John left the motel.

The ride to the house was silent in johns truck. As you pulled up, he explained that there were five demons inside, the men responsible for majority, you help if you can without getting killed. The entire time you were at the house, you didn't dare be alone or near sam and dean. Fear of them was constant on your mind, but you needed to help your dad so you tried to not think about it.

Sneaking around the back alone, you saw a demon alone watching through a window. You took your chance and threw holy water on it, instantly burning it as it looked towards you. You started fighting the demon and were winning until John, Sam, and dean came around the back after killing the others. Dean and sam took care of the demon as John rushed to you, checking you for wounds.

When sam and dean killed the demon, you kept your gaze on John, not looking at sam and dean, who shared a glance, remembering your encounter with them.

You got back in johns truck as you watched in the rear view mirror as dean got into the impala. John started the truck and you all went back to the motel. Before the trucks engine even died down, you were at the motel door heading straight to the bed. You layed down as the three men entered.

"Y/n? You okay sweetheart?" John asked. You didn't look at anything besides the wall in front of you.

"Yeah, daddy, I'm fine, just tired, gonna go to sleep." You shut your eyes and heard them shuffle around for about 10 minutes. You of course did not see the way sam and dean were looking at each other. Eventually they went to sleep at which point, you got up and started packing your bag, so hurriedly, you for sure grabbed something that wasn't yours. You looked at your phone and decided against it, knowing they could track you from it.. You didn't know where you were going or how you were gonna get there, but you just knew, you had to get away from sam and dean before they try to rape you again. You were guided solely by fear.

You knew you couldn't leave from the front door, you didn't want to be tracked at all and figured someone might see you. You didn't leave a note or anything, you grabbed your bag, and a wad of about five hundred dollars and went to the bathroom. You shut the door, opened the window and climbed out.

You walked across the street to the gas station, looking at a clock seeing it was about 2 am. You looked around hoping for someone or something to get you out of town and away from sam and dean. You could feel the tears streaming down your face and heard a car pull up next to you.

Some blonde guy reached over the seat and opened the door. "Hey, you look like you could use a ride." You looked around one last time, at dads truck, at the impala and at the motel and climbed in. "Yeah, thank you."

You said wiping a stray tear. "Where you heading?" You sniffled.

"Anywhere, I don't care, just anywhere but here." With that the car started up and you drove into the night, feeling a little easier knowing that sam and dean would never find you again. You didn't care if they would be worried or if they thought a monster had got you. You knew now that you were going to be okay, Sam and dean would never see you again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it, again this was inspired by @negans-lucille-tblr 's post so go look at her page, she has amazing fics and is an amazing writer.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #john winchester #winchester boys #winchester sister #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #supernatural angst #spn angst #winchester angst #winchester sibling

[alexandrablake]

love, jj

Prompts: 88. “I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did” from this prompt list! Pairing: Jemily, technically Word Count: 2,456 Warnings: Mentions of death. A/n: Red (@hurricanejjareau) picked this prompt. thank you, ily. that is all.

                April 29, 2011 Emily,

        Hey. It’s me. I’m sure you can tell by my handwriting. I’ve had you look over enough of my reports that I’d honestly be kind of disappointed if you didn’t. And before you say anything, yes, I know we play Scrabble, but that doesn’t count. I need to talk to you. God, Emily, I just need to talk to you. To see that you are alive, that you are well, and, honestly, to see that you are real. 

        These past few weeks without you have been awful. Everything is different. I’m spending more and more time around the office. The way we all skirt around your name like you never even existed is just painful. For a while there, I almost started to believe you weren’t real. And that’s a big fear of mine- to wake up one morning not worrying about you, because I know that’s all you have right now. You have Hotch and I thinking about you, and that’s it.

        Depressing. And nothing I need to tell you, but it’s not like you’ll read these anyways. It’s nearing two months since you “died.” I don’t think Rossi has processed it yet. Penelope is a shell of her former self coping. Even Ashley seems distraught. Spence has dealt with far too much trauma, and yet, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been at my house everyday this week, crying and then sleeping on the couch. It’s heart wrenching, and it takes everything in me to not tell him you’re okay. That you’re alive. But I can’t, not with Doyle still out there, always being a danger to you.

        But, my God, is Morgan the worst to be around right now. Second to only Penelope Garcia, you were Derek’s favorite person in the team. No point hiding it, you’re all profilers and I spend way too much time around you guys.. He’s gutted. Honestly, I think he’s the one person here who has really “accepted” that you’re gone. Even Hotch is off. But not Morgan. And that’s the horrifying part. He’s the exact same person that he was before you left, but now his smiles are a little too wide and his gestures are a little too exaggerated. It’s terrifying to be around. 

        I guess that leaves me. I’m doing okay. Miss you everyday, but I feel bad every time I do because I know the truth. I know where you are (kind of) and I know that you are alive. They buried you. They know where you are, too, but for them, that’s six feet under.

        Love, JJ

        March 1st, 2011 Emily, 

        Me again. Today was better, I think. I know we like to say that the serial killers never take a vacation, but they seem to be on one right now. It’s just a bunch of consulting on relatively low level cases. Thank God, because I don’t think any of them could handle a case right now. Reid didn’t sleep at my house last night, which is improvement, I think. He definitely didn’t sleep, but I’ll take what I can get. Derek is almost worse.

        It’s lonely here without you. Penelope isn’t herself, and I find her sitting at your desk all the time. She’s stopped staring at your photo constantly and now avoids the hallway with all the memorials so she doesn’t have to walk by you. She’s in her office even more than she normally would be. There’s boxes of cupcakes being brought in all the time. She’s an absolute and utter wreck. 

        You remember that feeling we all felt when Haley was killed? When we all stood around her casket and watched with teary eyes as Hotch and Jack said their final goodbyes? The feeling that nothing would be okay again? Yeah. That’s about what’s happening now, but now it’s not just Hotch feeling like his life is over. It’s all of us.

        And God, you must be so lonely. 

        Love, JJ

        April 10th, 2011 Emily,

        Today was an all-time low. Everywhere I looked, there you were. Oh, there you were grabbing coffee after an all-nighter spent at my house. Oh, there you are, legs dangling over the side of the chair you’re lounging in because you don’t know how to sit properly. Oh, there you are, smiling at Hotch as you talk animatedly in his office about God knows what. Oh, there you are, downing shots with Rossi.

        Your ghost was everywhere over this office, over my life. You were this office, you were everything. I can’t go anywhere to escape you. How can you have a ghost when you aren’t even dead?

        April 11th, 2011 Emily, 

        Another crying Spencer night. They’re off on their second case, a spree killing in Tampa. I don’t know. At this point, I’m kind of lost. I’m spending far too much time at that office even though I don’t work there because it’s one of my last connections to you. I just… miss you, I guess. No, I know I miss you. 

        I just can’t stop feeling guilty. I’m causing all this pain in the team and in all your loved ones. I was the one who told Hotch you survived, I was the one who suggested you “die.” This is all my fault. 

        Hotch told me he was doing assessments of the team. That shouldn’t be happening. You should be there. I’m not going to ask for the results, and I don’t think I would be allowed to if I asked. I just don’t want to face the reality of what I’ve done.

        Love, JJ

        May 15th, 2011 Emily, 

        Hey, it’s been a while. Not much has changed. I haven’t been to the BAU since my last letter. I can’t face them anymore. I can’t sit within those walls that seep of you. I can’t face you.

        God damnit, Prentiss! Why did you go after Doyle? You knew we could have helped! This could have all been avoided if you would have trusted us!

        May 15th, 2011 Emily, 

        I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just miss you. A lot.

        May 22nd, 2011 Emily, 

        With you being gone, I’m starting to realize how much I depended on you. You were my person. If I had a problem, I came to you. If I wanted to get drunk, I came to you. If I wanted to get a break from the overwhelmingness of the testerone of our workplaces, I came to you. If I just wanted to escape, I came to you. 

        I’m still avoiding the BAU as best as I can. Even Hotch and I haven’t been talking. Spence is still coming to my house, though. Still crying. He misses you so much, Prentiss. We all do. 

        When Elle left, I didn’t think any of us would recover. She hadn’t been there for the longest time, but she was an integral part of the team. But we recovered. Then, when Gideon left, some of us were fine, but Reid? I genuinely thought he would never be the same. And I guess he isn’t, but he still recovered. And now you left. So if the pattern continues, we’ll recover.

        But I don’t think I will. Because every waking minute of every day (and even some of the sleeping ones), the thought that we will never catch Doyle haunts me. The thought that I will never see your beautiful face again. The thought that I will never actually get to talk to you again. 

        They don’t have those thoughts. To them, you are dead, under the ground, declared dead on the table. To them, there’s no chance they’ll ever see you again. So, for them, if we don’t catch Doyle, yes they’ll be irrationally angry because the son of a bitch who killed you is still out there, but catching him never had any more reward than revenge and putting another bad guy in prison where he belongs. They won’t realize that not catching him means they’ll never see you again because they don’t even know that’s an option. 

        I love you, JJ

        June 1st, 2011 Emily, 

        The worst part of all this is that I know you’re out there, lonely. I would say afraid, but I know you. Emily Prentiss doesn’t get scared, I know. But you’re alone, in a place that isn’t here. All I want to do is help you. And I can’t because if I do, there’s the possibility that I’ll make everything worse.

        So, I’m trying to focus on positives: happy memories and good things to happen. Like, the other day, I walked through a market and, when I passed a flower stall, all I smelled was that expensive perfume you used to wear. The stuff you stopped using because it made Reid sneeze? The stuff you still use when we would go out on the town? Smelling it made me want to go out and buy a drink and dance the night away. 

        And when I was shopping for new shoes for Henry, I saw a pair of boots that I knew you would buy the instant you saw them. They were lace-up, black with a bit of heel (I know your never-ending goal is to get taller), and there was a slight rose decal on the top. I could hear you shouting, “These are men squashing boots!” because you’re never embarrassed in public. I could see the smile you give me, a flash of blinding white teeth. And I knew the smile I would shoot back because happy Emily is my favorite Emily.

        I love you, JJ

        June 18th, 2011 Emily, 

        You missed Morgan’s birthday. 38! It was a pretty somber occasion because we all knew that something was missing. And it was the day before your 3 month anniversary of being dead. Garcia tried as best as she could to fill the gap, decorating the bar that Rossi rented out very extravagantly. Material items could never make up the lack of you. We all just ended up getting drunk.

        I think it’s really starting to hit Hotch. When I take Henry to hang out with Jack, Aaron’s quiet. Granted, he’s always quiet. (Not around you, though. You always bring out the best in people) This is a different quiet, though. He’s almost silent. I think he’s beating himself up. You know Hotch, anniversaries hit him hard. I think he hoped you would be home now, Doyle staying in the maximum security he belongs in. 

        But the rest of them are moving on. Spencer isn’t having the breakdowns he used to have. Penelope and I can go out for coffee without there being this heavy weight sitting on us. Ashley even joined us once, and it didn’t feel like she was replacing anyone. Rossi is smiling much more. Morgan is still acting a little fake, and he pulls sleepless nights every now and then, obsessing over the case. But he’s better. He can focus on cases, and Penelope tells me that they can go hang out without him being too absent-minded. 

        Hotch is the one I’m really worried about. We both remember the aftermath of Haley’s death. The grieving, the silence, the sleepless nights, the constant fidgeting so he could keep his mind of it. That’s what’s happening now. He’s just as worried about you as I am. We both know the possibility of never seeing you again.

        That leaves me. Three months later and I wouldn’t say I’m much better than I used to be. I still have trouble hanging around them. I still find myself grabbing my phone to text you something before remembering that I would never get an answer. I still find myself longing for you, for your smile, for your touch.

        I love you, JJ

        July 17th, 2011 Emily,

        I think this will be my last letter. I’ve come to a few realizations, and, even though I still desperately need to talk to you, writing these are one of them. 

        One: This isn’t healthy for me- nothing about this is. 5 stages of grief. We both know them, they have to do with the unsubs all the time. These letters are classified as denial. And I need to get through all five. Yes, you aren’t dead, but you may as well be. I can’t see you, I can’t talk to you, I can’t know where you are. There’s a death certificate. You were “buried.” And I need to get to acceptance. I need to accept that I may never see you again. I can’t just exist in this state of limbo forever. 

        Two: You are okay, and you can care for yourself. I guess this goes under the first one, but I don’t really care. You don’t get as close as we did are and not have an ever present worry of “what if she’s not okay? What if I’m not there to protect her? What if she needs my help?” But that’s where the denial thing comes in. I think that I’ve been doing that to myself because it keeps you near to me. It keeps you alive. Because if I can worry about you, there is still a you to worry about. Therein lies the issue. There is no you to worry over. To the world, you are dead. And I need to accept that. Because the you that does exist is perfectly capable and doesn’t need my help. 

        Three: Not having you here is the worst part of this all. Technically, you were gone before you left because I left, but we still talked and hung out. We still went to bars on alternating Saturdays. But we can’t have any of that anymore. And I think that’s what made me realize the last thing. 

        I am completely, utterly in love with you. And that’s terrifying. Unrequited love stories are the worst to read, but here I am, writing one. I loved how hot you looked when you tied your hair up. I love the way you carried yourself. I love the way you smiled at me when Reid went on one of his tangents. I love the way you looked at me when I delivered the profile. I love our hushed talks on the plane when everyone else is asleep, talking about everything and nothing.

        The worst part? You are the missing piece in this puzzle. You, Emily, were the one thing I never took into account when planning my life out. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, I just did. Yet, here we are- me, writing crappy letters admitting my feelings, and you, halfway across the world, completely unaware of the havoc you’ve wreaked on me.

        I love you, JJ

#if this is the second time you saw this #no it isn't #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jj x emily #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #eva's 25 days of christmas #advent calendar of fics (ACoF) #eva writes occasionally

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 15 took forever ergh

Man, this was a thing. In this thing, Sans cannot do poker face, and Undyne is half bro and half troll. Chapter can be found here.

           Frisk wiped the sweat from her forehead and clutched the envelope tighter as she crept over the last "bridge." The monsters in Hotland were supposed to have disarmed all the traps and puzzles for the humans’ visit, but they had replaced them with a bunch of regular wooden planks, not bothering with supports or railings to keep people from falling into the lava.

           There! She was across. Puffing a little in the heat, Frisk trotted up the ramp and saw the doctor’s laboratory – helpfully labeled “LAB” – right where they’d said it would be.

           But no one had said there would be a crowd blocking it. “…your very eyes!” someone was shouting from a stage in the main area.

It wasn’t very impressive, just a rickety platform with one corner curtained off and a few musicians standing around. The only thing on it was a giant metal rectangle that rocked back and forth on a single wheel, with no human features except for strange, floppy arms ending in white gloves. Yellow and red lights twinkled in elaborate patterns on its front as it raised an arm and twirled in place. “No, you say? It’s not enough?” asked a tinny voice.

           Frisk had no idea what it was supposed to be – some kind of loud statue? – and neither did the rest of the audience. The rectangle spun itself impatiently. “Well, then, behold!”

           Just like that, the thing froze in place, and there was nervous laughter as it began to look like it was broken—until something darted out from behind the curtain and whacked it in the back. There came a POP and a grinding sound, and the rectangle exploded in a plume of smoke!

           But before the audience could work up to a proper state of panic, they heard a silvery laugh. Out of the smoke stepped a dazzling figure; it was shaped like a human, but as the air cleared, the stagelights shone on a monster made entirely of bronze and steel, its features delineated in ivory. Sleek black lacquer served as hair, and it winked an opalescent eye at the gawking crowd. When they didn't get the hint, it raised its hands and tapped them together, then bowed graciously as the applause started in earnest.

           This must be the automaton she’d been sent to find! Somehow, Frisk doubted she was supposed to get up on stage to give him the note; if she was, the answer was—

           “Yes!” At that cue, the musicians broke into a swift-paced dance tune. Mettaton bowed again, then launched himself into a series of amazing leaps and twirls, hopping around the little stage like an agile, attention-fueled clockwork toy. The audience cheered and clapped along, which seemed to put an extra spring in his step, as Sans would say.

           Frisk had crept closer and spotted a set of steps beside the stage. She started up them on all fours, hoping to catch Mettaton after this song. A Royal Guard moved to stop her; Frisk showed her the fancy seal on the note she was carrying under her armpit, and the cat-woman directed her to go up and wait behind the curtain.

           The human did so, and immediately bumped into someone. “E-excuse me,” another monster said apologetically. Frisk turned to see a stocky lizard monster with bright yellow scales, wearing glasses and a doctor’s coat; she offered a sheepish smile as the human child backed up. “I’m just here to m-make sure M-M-Mettaton doesn’t s-squeak too much,” the doctor said, holding up an oil can. "I hope he s-stops after this number so I can—"

           The audience was applauding again, and the lizard gulped as Mettaton launched right into another routine, the musicians scrambling to keep up. Frisk couldn't help poking her head out from the curtain; she had never seen anything like the automaton, especially not this close.

           "I'm so g-g-glad that I finished him on time," the yellow monster said quietly, as if to herself.

           "You made him?" the child whispered back in astonishment.

           The monster looked a little frightened, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. "Um...just his b-b-body." She shuffled her feet. "It w-was nothing."

           Frisk watched the automaton do a series of backflips ending in perfect splits. "That looks like a lot. It's incredible," she said honestly.

           "Really?" The lizard squinted at her to see if she meant it. "W-Well, if you think so..."

           Out of nowhere, Frisk felt a cold sensation sliding down her back. The same way one has to sniff at something that looks rotten, the child had to peek out at the audience: sure enough, there was Chara at the back of the crowd, frowning up at the stage.

           As Frisk stared, the woman's gaze shifted until her eyes met Frisk's. Chara smiled thinly, and the child's gut knotted. How did—

           Another grinding sound pulled Frisk's attention back to the stage. Mettaton’s ankles were starting to smoke as he moved faster and faster; to Frisk's horror, one of the joints locked up, and the automaton's heeled boot skidded across the stage, lurching him off balance. The little human had a panicky mental image of the poor monster lying in a heap, people trying not to laugh too loud, Chara rushing up to help because everyone was watching...

           Maybe that was what gave Frisk the courage to drop the envelope and dash onto the stage as Mettaton came careening toward her. She grabbed the nearest pearly-gloved hand and swung him around with all her might, nearly wrenching her shoulder out of its socket.

           But it was enough: the automaton slammed his knee and his other hand into the stage and used the momentum to twirl back onto his feet...all in time with the music. The child didn’t have time to catch her breath; Mettaton winked at her with a little clicking sound and then caught her up to dance in place with him, setting her down long enough to let her pose dramatically.

           The first time she did it was just freezing up as she faced the audience, but they cheered so loudly that she tried it again the next time she came down, and the next. To her amazement, she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. This was fun!

           All too soon, the song ended with a crashing flourish, and she panted happily as Mettaton held her arm up, prompting the now-huge crowd to applaud both of them. The automaton turned to address everyone, but Frisk was glad to stagger back to the side of the stage, where the lizard monster was waiting behind the curtain. “Th-thank you so much,” she said. Despite her scales, she appeared to be sweating, beady eyes fixed on Mettaton. "He's g-going to be s-so upset with me..."

           Frisk hated how miserable the doctor looked, as if she expected the automaton to blame her for the mishap because it was her fault. The human tried to think of something to say, and spotted the note in the monster's hand. “Oh, you found it! Thank you!” Frisk cried, as if her life had been saved, and was rewarded with a shy smile as the lizard handed her the envelope. “Here, sir. This is for you,” said Frisk, turning to Mettaton as he came over.

           Sure enough, he was scowling. "I was just telling the doctor how amazing you were," the child said as gushily as possible. "But, um, you're so amazing that we're worried about you pushing yourself too hard. Please take more care so you can keep performing for us," Frisk finished.

           The automaton blinked, his attention diverted. “Why, thank you, darling,” he said, ruffling her hair fairly gently, “and thank you for your assistance! That was marvelous! Any time you’d like to come back for another performance, my little beauty, you are absolutely welcome.” He gave Alphys a brief glare, then allowed her to creep forward and begin re-oiling his joints as he tore the note open, eyes flicking over the words with inhuman speed. “Ah, duty calls.” The metal monster  smiled at Frisk again, working his ankles to spread the oil evenly. “I’m heading to meet His Majesty now. Would you like to come back with me, darling?”

           “Thank you, sir, but I promised the Queen I’d stay and meet more people in Hotland,” Frisk lied. She turned to the other monster and gave a half-bow. “My name is, um, Kris. What’s yours?”

           “Uh…m-my n-name?” The lizard pushed up her glasses. “I-I’m Dr. Alphys, the r-royal s-s-scientist. It’s n-nice to m-meet you, Kris.”

           “I’ll see you later, then, Kris!” Without further ado, Mettaton stepped out of the curtain and leapt off the stage, sailing clear over the astonished humans’ heads and pirouetting once more before he pranced out of sight.

           “Um…” Alphys was fidgeting with her claws. “So, d-do you like…stories? Novels or p-p-plays?”

           “I don’t know,” said Frisk, rubbing her sore shoulder. “I’ve never read any.”

           Alphys’ eyes got wide, and wider. “C-c-c’mon!” she nearly shrieked. “Do I have s-some things to sh-show you!” And she was off, racing down the steps and tearing the doors to her laboratory open as though her tail had caught fire.

           Frisk started to follow, but another bad feeling crept up on her, and she had to turn to look at the audience, praying she wouldn’t see—

           Chara was still there, still staring at Frisk. But this time, she wasn't smiling. She looked...thoughtful.

           Why did that seem so much worse?

 ~

             Sans lay on the floor in his room, flat on his back, his head spinning. For a long moment, he had no idea what'd just happened. He'd woken up and had to get away in a hurry—from Undyne? Because he'd been chewing on Frisk? That was a dream...right?

           But if it was a dream, what was he smelling? The boss monster glanced this way and that. All he saw was his pile of long-outgrown socks, his too-small treadmill shoved against the wall, and the wadded-up sheets on the kiddy-sized bed. Sans grunted and turned onto his side, curling up with one arm under his head.

           Then he blinked, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and jammed it into his nasal bone, inhaling so deeply that he almost sucked the material up into his skull. Ha! Frisk's scent was all over him! It wasn't a dream after all. Heh, as if he could've imagined her saying those things, making those little noises and tasting like—

           Sans tried to leap to his feet, but he made it about a third of the way before he staggered and fell back with a butt-rattling thump. No good; he'd done too much yesterday and gotten too little sleep. That last shortcut had completely drained him.

           It was just as well, when Sans gave it any thought whatsoever. He'd gotten out of Frisk's room fast enough that she had a decent chance of convincing Undyne he hadn't been there. It'd be about eight flavors of stupid to go back to her now, no matter how badly he wanted to.

           And boy howdy, did he ever want to. The giant skeleton stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to rub his face in his shirt like a damn cat. His tongue came up and ran slowly across the back of his teeth, remembering the taste of apples—she must've had some before she went to bed. He'd never be able to eat one again without getting twitchy.

           In fact, he had a feeling that life was going to be trickier in general from now on. Being around her had been distracting enough before he knew exactly how soft she was, what it smelled like snuggled into her neck...

           Shit. No wonder humans were such obsessive morons about this whole thing. Magic was already tingling throughout his bones, especially his pelvis, a helpful reminder that it was there in case he wanted to have his way with anyone; Sans had to bring his fist up and clonk himself square in the forehead to snap out of it.

           ...And it didn't even work. The harder he tried not to think of Frisk, the more irritated he got, and he also had a headache.

           It was a profound relief to feel the house shake as the front door was thrown open. Undyne shouted something, and Pap's door also banged open; Sans had to smile as his brother loudly rejoiced at seeing Frisk. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a moment later, Frisk shrieked with laughter—probably because Pap had picked her up and swung her around, just as he had swung Kris around all those years ago.

           Sans sighed. The stairs were too small for him, and he wasn't sure he could manage a shortcut to the living room. Maybe it was just as well: he was tired and cranky, and he hadn't calmed down enough to trust himself yet; better give her some time to get reacquainted with Pap first, before they started handing out everyone's gifts.

           Oh, crap. She'd asked him to do something last night with the wagons, but he'd been too distracted by the other stuff she'd said, and too intent on proving that he could do stuff, too. He had spent the past couple days thinking it over while he was pulling the stupid wagon, theorizing that he could cram some of his accumulated magic back down and revert to a lesser height for short periods; listening to Frisk whistle, he'd wondered if he could do that, too, and then gone off a long mental tangent about lips.

           Maybe those self-adjustments had worked so readily because he'd had so much practice manipulating his other body parts, or maybe he'd just wanted it to happen badly enough. Maintaining his crammed-down form was something he'd have to work on, and he didn't know if he'd be able to do it at all outside the Underground and its ambient magic, but...

           He closed his eyes, letting his body relax, ignoring Undyne's stupid loud voice through the floor. He was home, his brother was happy, they had Frisk here...

           Some time later – a few minutes, or an hour – he jumped as the door banged shut downstairs. The boss monster wondered irritably if someone else had come in, or if they'd left, or what. Then, picking up at a random point where his mind had left off, he wondered whether his body felt as awful to Frisk as hers felt good to him. Was it like making out with a coat rack?

           The only thing that saved him from another five or six hours of tortured introspection was the smell of pancakes. Sans shook himself, sat up, thought of the living room, and took himself downstairs, where he was met with...no one. To his disappointment, the house was now empty, save for a single plate and a note on the table:

             SANS! YOUR GREAT BROTHER (ME) HAS KINDLY AGREED TO ALLOW YOU TO SLEEP IN LIKE THE SLOTHFUL SACK OF BONES YOU ARE WHILE WE ESCORT OUR DEAR

             Another set of handwriting, much less elegant and more emphatic, had scribbled out KRIS so hard that the paper was almost torn through, replacing it neatly with Frisk.

             FINE THEN OUR DEAR FRISK TO GRILLBY'S AS A CONVENIENT PLACE FROM WHICH TO FURTHER DISTRIBUTE PANCAKES. PLEASE PARTAKE OF THE DELICIOUS BREAKFAST PREPARED WITH LOVE BY YOUR BROTHER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND CONSIDER JOINING U

             There was a trailed-off line where the S should have began, and a smear of ink as testament to a struggle for the pen before the other handwriting victoriously resumed,

             We're at Grillby's!!! (Much smaller:) see was that so hard

           NO ONE SAID IT WAS HARD, NYEH!! I WAS MERELY TRYING TO CONVE (smear)

           Why are you actually writing NYEH you damn goober

           WHY ARE YOU NOT

           oh my god (Much bigger:) SANS EAT YOUR PANCAKES

             Sigh. Sans obediently picked up a fork, then realized no one was around, folded the stack in half, and shoved it down his throat. He remembered another time with a fork and breakfast being crammed in his face; little did he know then...

           With his mouth still full, Sans abruptly stood up and gathered himself for to a shortcut to Grillby's—only for his magic to sputter and fizzle out. Dammit! Had he only gotten enough back to teleport into the living room?

           Well, Grillby's might not be very far, but after the past couple days, he was completely sick of walking. He could just wait a few more minutes for his magic to regenerate. It wasn't like he'd die if he didn't see her right this second. Right?

           He glanced at the fork again.

A moment later, he was closing the front door behind him, shuffling through the snow with his hands in his pockets.

           To his surprise, one of the wagons was parked outside the house, most of its contents sitting on the ground. Aaron and Ice Wolf were busy moving packages into the shed; the only things left in the wagon were the crates of vials, seedlings, and other items for Alphys. Sans caught Aaron's eye, and the merhorse flexed nervously at him before returning to work.

           Hm. Toriel must've told them to bring the wagons to Frisk in Snowdin, and then Undyne had gotten Pap to unlock the shed and made these guys unload all the gifts. Nice! That was one less thing to worry about.

           Ice Wolf was setting down one of the last packages and climbing back into the wagon. Sans watched in sudden apprehension as the wolf pulled out a crate and trotted down toward the river, raising it over his head to—

           It really wasn't Ice Wolf's fault. Apparently, he'd heard Frisk tell Undyne that the crates were all accounted for, and now they needed to go to Hotland; it was already his job to send things there by throwing them into the water, so he figured he might as well help with these, too. One flying tackle and a heated discussion later about the difference between chunks of ice and irreplaceable scientific materials, the wolf monster was directed to the Royal Guards' ferry, which could transport the crates without anything getting waterlogged or melted.

           Okay. That was one wagon safely disposed of. Time to follow the other one's tracks in the snow past the deserted librarby – heh, he'd never get tired of that – to Grillby's.

           Sure enough, the other wagon stood empty right outside the bar, which was absolutely packed. Sans could smell why: for the first time in months, Grillby was serving hot food. If Sans knew Frisk, no one would have to pay for it, either.

           Free pancakes or not, things were quite orderly. The monsters were waiting in a line stretching out the door and along the side of the building; the Royal Guard Captain could be heard directing traffic inside, and those without were politely ignoring Papyrus as he strode back and forth, instructing them to keep waiting. "SANS! THERE YOU ARE!" he said, cheerful as always. "IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, NYEHH! I WASN'T SURE IF THE HUMAN IN MY HEAD WAS ENTIRELY TRUSTWORTHY, BUT IT SEEMS SHE WAS CORRECT AFTER ALL! I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU ARE BACK SAFELY!"

           "Yeah, I'm here," answered Sans, giving his brother a friendly nudge in passing. "An' speakin' of the human—"

           "AH-AH, BROTHER!" Papyrus flung his hands out to block the doorway. "YOU MUST WAIT WITH EVERYONE ELSE."

           Sans stared down at him. "What the crap, bro? I already ate. I just wanna get in ta—"

           "IT IS A DIRECT ORDER FROM UNDYNE! NO EXCEPTIONS!"

           "Well, you're bein' exceptionally dumb!" He tried to stoop to see in the door, but to no avail: there was no room between the monsters in line and those leaving. "Come on, Pap! All I want is—"

           A red-gloved finger stabbed up at him. "BACK IN LINE, SANS! NYEH-HEH-HEH!"

           And just like that, for one second, Sans was so irritated that he wanted to pick his brother up by the spine and toss him aside. It took far too long to remind himself that he loved Papyrus more than life itself, his brother was just being himself, and Sans shouldn't pick him up by the friggin' spine! What was wrong with him today?

           Sans shook himself, pulled a face, and started ambling toward the end of the line. The moment Pap's attention was elsewhere, though, the boss monster turned on his heel, speed-sneaked up to the doorway, tapped on a couple of shoulders, and said, "'Scuse me."

           Somehow, no one else seemed concerned that he was cutting in line. A duck, a wriggle and a side-shuffle later, Sans was in the bar, ignoring his brother's orders to come back that instant!

           There were so many monsters inside that they'd had to shove the rectangular tables against the wall. Undyne was seated at the high table near the back door, keeping her eye on the line as it moved toward the bar; Grillby had set up a griddle and was silently dispensing one pancake and one blob of hash browns to each monster—not much, but it was still human food, equivalent to a couple of good-sized meals. The stools at the end of the bar were laden with plates, forks, and napkins, but almost everyone was ignoring them and devouring their food on the spot.

           Where the hell was Frisk? Even at Sans' height, it took him a moment to locate her. But someone finally moved aside, and his SOUL leapt like an excited little dog at the sight of its favorite human. She was perched on a corner of the bar, tiny feet swinging, wearing her black cloak and a high-necked gown; an intrepid kid had wormed his way into her lap, and Frisk was petting his seahorse-shaped head as she listened to old Gerson. She said something that made the elderly tortoise chortle and whap the bar with his stick, and Sans tried to edge forward.

           "Hey!" barked Undyne. The entire place fell quiet as the Captain got down from her chair and stalked over to Sans. "You shouldn't be in here," she scolded him. "Does this look like a good place to just hang out right now? Huh?"

           The boss monster ignored her and glared at Gerson, who was occupying both barstools at that corner. Then he looked at Frisk, who was smiling at him, and he immediately forgot what he was mad about. He tried to think of something witty: "Uh." Shuffle. "Hi."

           "Ugh! I know the note said we'd be here, but I didn't mean for you to come right in and—are you listening?!" The fish monster had to sock him in the radius to get his attention. "Look, doofus, if you're gonna take up space, do it over there!" She pointed at the gramophone in the corner.

           Sans obediently trudged through the press of monsters and stationed himself near Frisk. Undyne followed him, nodding respectfully to Gerson. "So, boss. How was it, living in the lair of the enemy?" the Captain inquired, leaning against the bar. When he looked blank, she prompted, "How'd the humans treat you?"

           Why was she asking this now, and what was that look she was giving him? ...Oh, fuck, that was right. She might have seen him on the floor in Frisk's room before he shortcut away, and was fishing for information. Ha. He didn't know whether Frisk had successfully denied it or not; better err on the side of being dickish about humans. "It sucked. They're dumb, they smell weird, an' they all stared at me like a friggin' zoo animal," he complained.

           Frisk shifted to look at him, and he quailed at her expression. "Excuse me," she said coldly. "Are you going to mention that you had your own room with a bed even bigger than you are, or how much food you had brought straight to you every single day? All you had to do in return was read and put things in bottles!"

           "Seriously?" Undyne punched one fist into her other hand. "Didn't you have to fight for your life against terrible odds, or steel your resolve and withstand all kinds of torture, or something?"

           "It was a feather bed with silk sheets," said Frisk, and Undyne made a retching sound.

           "Wah ha ha!" Gerson thumped the bar again. "If you ever need another apprentice, girlie, sign me up! Won't hear me complainin'!"

           "Me neither," said the kid on Frisk's lap. To Sans' absolute disgust, the seahorse's curved head was snugged up under her bosom, the cloak tucked in like a blanket. Her hood was down, and in the bar's overhead lights, he was reminded of that fateful moment where he'd seen her clearly for the first time, the delicate symmetry of her features and the beautiful red tones in her eyes...

           Sans didn't realize he was staring until Undyne coughed. "So all humans are gross and dumb, huh?" She scratched behind her right fin. "Well, if you had to get stuck with one, at least you wound up with Frisk. I mean, she's not that bad, right?"

           "Uh..." Fuckin' Undyne! Was she being sarcastic, or actually trying to figure out how he felt? If so, should he try to convince her that he wasn't interested in Frisk, or at least that he wasn't completely batshit in love with her?

           ...Crap. They were waiting for the next batch of pancakes to finish cooking, so the line had stalled, and now a bunch of other monsters were listening. All it would take was one idiot gossiping about Sans' interspecies love affair for it to get back to Asgore, who would lose what was left of his big dumb mind. Sans had to throw them off...but what could he even say?

           Double crap. He made the mistake of looking at Frisk, who had picked up a fork from the bar and—god damn it, she was looking back at him and tapping it against her lips! As if he needed a reminder that she was still stunningly beautiful, or to think more about kissing her. The seahorse was now asleep on her lap, completing the picture of a woman he couldn't hate any less.

           Sans gave himself a mental kick in the nuts: he had to say something before someone noticed him ogling her. "Well...it...coulda been worse," he said, turning his head dismissively, "but you should see what she does t'books. She folds the pages up like a damn kid!"

           "Oh, yes, I just loved having a ten-foot mother-in-law telling me what I could do with my own things," the human shot back. She turned to address the snickering monsters: "Not only did he get literally one hundred eighty square feet of bed to himself while I slept on the couch like a vagrant, he spent an hour in the tub every single night. I kept having to bang on the door and wake him up! And he has the nerve to complain about how I treated my books?"

           The snickering increased as Sans' skull grew warm. Was she playing along, or was she actually mad? Why didn't anything make sense anymore?! "Yeah, well, you snore" was all he could think to say.

           With unnerving speed, Gerson swung his stick up and around till it was pointing at Sans' sternum. "And how do you know that, sonny boy?" he demanded.

           That was a good question, and the others were eagerly awaiting his response. Sans didn't have the guts – ha – to look at Frisk, so he just shrugged. "I could hear it through two closed doors," he said casually.

           Their listeners chuckled, clearly buying it, but Undyne grinned wider. "Good thing he doesn't like humans. You never had to worry about him trying anything weird," she said loudly to Frisk, who was covering her face with one hand. The Captain glanced back at Sans. "Right? 'Cause you don't like humans?"

           "Right," said the boss monster. Just in case, he added, "'m not interested. They're too...uh...lumpy."

           "Lumpy?" Undyne repeated, voice cracking.

           "Lumpy," Frisk mumbled into her hand, and Sans bade a silent farewell to his chances of making it through the day alive.

           Gerson snorted. "Never you mind him, girl. I remember when you were even smaller, and you flirted with every monster you met—why doncha try it again? Promise I won't laugh this time!"

           The human raised her head long enough to say, "No, sir, but I think you'd fall asleep before we got anywhere interesting," and the monsters roared with laughter, all except Sans.

           "That's a fair point," Gerson admitted, once he'd recovered. "A doll like you shouldn't be stuck with a stinky old thing like me. Maybe one of these other fine specimens of monsterhood would suit ya better?"

           "Yeah, I'm a fine specimen!" someone called out, prompting more laughter, and cries of "Me too!" and "I'm not, but I'll learn!"

           "I don't think so," Undyne said flatly, to Sans' eternal gratitude. "Frisk has a lot of work to do, and she's not gonna be here that long. Anyone who messes with her on my watch is gonna be my new training dummy. Got it?"

           "Agreed," the giant skeleton muttered. "Don't want anybody interruptin' her bein' a perfect princess an' fixin' all the world's pr—"

           Tng went Frisk's palm on the bar, slamming the fork down and nearly startling Gerson onto the floor. "Don't call me that!"

           A moment of apprehensive silence, and then the line began moving again, the monsters whispering to each other and glancing over their shoulders. Well, it'd definitely worked, Sans thought, trying to get his SOUL moving again. No one would think anything was going on between them now. ...How was that little shit still asleep on her?

           "Okay, okay," said Undyne, chagrined. "Geez. You're one to talk, boss."

           "What's that supposed to mean?" Frisk asked suspiciously, saving him the trouble.

           Gerson gave three rapid thumps on the floor. "Very true, Miss Undyne! Very true. Here's an interesting fact for ya," he said to the priestess. "When it comes to sowin' their oats, your average monster's not in any hurry, but bosses? They're almost as determined as humans! Wah ha ha!"

           Frisk smiled weakly. "Ahh, I'm just funnin' with you. Don't worry about Sans," Gerson assured her. "Most folks don't know this, but romantically speaking, boss monsters ain't much of a threat to anyone. Sure, they've got that drive to have offspring, but they're too picky to do much about it." He waggled his stick in Sans' direction. "This fella's SOUL ain't interested in anybody weaker than he is. If he can't find another boss monster, he won't fix on anyone at all."

           Sans' mouth fell open, and clicked shut. "Wait. What?"

           The old tortoise cackled again. "Haven't you noticed, sonny?" he asked. "You're not interested in the ladies – or gents – 'cause none of 'em have enough magic to handle ya. Your SOUL can tell when you meet someone who might work out, and it ignores everybody else. It's instinct—keeps you from hurting a lesser monster by mistake. 'Course, the royals have each other, or at least they did, but..." His shrug was eloquent, almost pitying. "Not sure what to tell you, young skeleton. Hope you find a way to scratch that itch someday."

           "Are you serious? How do you know that? Why the hell didn't I know that?!" Sans was too angry to notice how red Frisk was, or how wide Undyne's eye had gotten. "D'ya know how much I've been worryin' about what'd happen if I—" He caught himself just in time. "—got really interested in someone? Yer tellin' me that just bein' interested means it's safe ta go for it?"

           "Wah ha! It sure would!" Thump thump. "Ya really didn’t know that? Didn't you get 'the talk' from Asgore or Toriel?"

           Sans shook his head. He'd never talked to the King about personal stuff, and Toriel knew how much he hated being a boss monster, so she hadn't brought it up. She certainly never told him what to expect if he did find a potential mate. Sans couldn't really blame her; how was she supposed to know he'd meet someone like Frisk?

           Gerson harrumphed at him. "Well, some of us remember how the King and Queen were before the Prince was born—couldn't keep their hands off each other! I had to have a talk with 'em about corrupting our youth with their bad example, and Asgore went on and on about how their SOULs couldn't help it! Poor Toriel wouldn't look me in the eye for a month afterwards!" He cackled yet again. "Not the sort of thing I'd go around repeating to just anyone, is it?"

           "Yeah, well, I wish you'd repeated it to me!"

           "How fascinating," said Frisk, tilting her head to feign curiosity. That wasn't fair: he knew she was faking, and it was still the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen. "So I don't have to worry about Sans bothering me?" she asked innocently.

           "Not unless you're a boss monster, too!" The tortoise had a hearty chuckle at that idea.

           No one really joined in, especially not Sans, who was remembering his own words to Alphys. "If humans had anythin' like boss monsters, she'd be one fer sure"...

           Suddenly, the little seahorse on Frisk's lap jerked awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with one long, hand-like fin. "Good morning," the priestess said kindly.

           He yawned a weird little yawn, and mumbled, "Good morning, Princess."

           Frisk stiffened. Sans resisted the urge to tie the kid in a knot as the human said, "No, dear. When Sans called me that, he was being sarcastic," with an inflection that made the skeleton wince. "I'm not actually a princess."

           Blink. "Oh." Blink. "I don't get it. Aren't you Chara? You were here before, and Lady Toriel said—oww!"

           Gerson had rapped the seahorse between the ears with his stick. "Pay attention, sprout," he said severely. "Chara died before you were even hatched. This here is Miss Frisk, you got that?"

           The little monster mumbled an apology, ears drooping. Grillby saved them all from further awkwardness by moving over and crackling something at Gerson, who nodded and leaned over to whisper to Undyne, who stood up in turn and stomped the floor for everyone's attention. "Two dozen pancakes left, and we're out of hash browns!" she called out. "Everyone who hasn't gotten theirs yet, count off! One! Two! Three—"

           Groaning arose as "Four," "Five," "Six" came down from the head of the line, ending in a triumphant "Twenty-four!" near the door.

           "What the hell," complained the twenty-fifth monster. "I didn't come all the way from Waterfall to get screwed again!"

           "You shouldn't have come to eat our food in the first place," Dogamy snapped.

           "Everyone was already lining up, and I was all the way at the back! So I came to get something for the kids—"

           "Well, you should've thought of that before you went and had another one," Faun cut in. "It's people like you who're the problem, making more mouths to feed instead of helping the rest of us!"

           "Oh, like you ever get your lazy carcass out to work the fields! I'm trying to keep our race from dying out, and you—"

           "No, you—"

           Someone shoved someone else, and in a flash, Undyne interposed herself between them. "Take it outside!" she ordered, addressing the angry latecomers as a whole. "Or, don't fight each other over something we can't control! Put some of that energy where it counts!"

           "Like where? Going out to look for food and getting captured by humans like her?"

           It was no use: more squabbles and counter-squabbles started breaking out, and within seconds, the place was in chaos. Sans moved in front of Frisk, knowing he couldn't trust himself to join the fray—he was already agitated, and it’d be too easy to kill someone by mistake. Undyne had no such qualms, and was dragging a couple of miscreants around in headlocks when an ear-splitting whistle brought everyone to their knees.

           The only exception was the child on Frisk's lap. The priestess had shielded his ears with one hand, and was lowering the other from her mouth. "There's more coming," she said into the pained silence, voice clear and steady. "Sans has arranged to pick up several hundred pounds of food, two days from now. We'll bring it straight back here, and every last one of you will have some, including your families." Frisk gave the room a slight smile. "If I'm lying, feel free to eat me instead."

           Before anyone else could speak, Gerson tapped the bar next to her. "Is it true that you're in talks to buy us that place on the river?" he asked.

           "Yes, and we can improve your existing farmland in the meantime," replied Frisk.

           Murmurs arose throughout the room, hope warring with skepticism. "Well," Gerson said slowly, "on behalf of the entire Underground, I've got to say—"

           "OH MY GOD!" Sans and Frisk both sighed as Papyrus waved from the doorway. "CAPTAIN UNDYNE! THE QUEEN IS HERE! SHE WANTS TO SEE KRIS RIGHT AWAY!"

           The crowd gasped, monsters hurrying to stand aside for Frisk; she waved away Sans' proffered hand, set the kid on the bar, and hopped down. "I'll be right there," she called to Papyrus, and walked out through the aisle, smiling at each monster in passing.

           That was what did the trick, Sans thought, along with Pap getting her name wrong—good reminders of the warm-hearted human they'd known and loved. The murmuring started right back up again, but now the thoughtful or hopeful voices were much louder, the pissy ones silent.

           The seahorse had floated down to the floor and was bobbing his way through the crowd. Watching him go, Sans wondered about Frisk's reaction to being called a princess. Not only should she be one, as far as he was concerned, she should be in line to rule the whole damn kingdom. Judging from her performance as High Priestess, she'd be damn good at it, much better than her scrawny little half-brother...

           Undyne had left right after Frisk, and the other monsters were filing out. When the place was nearly empty, Gerson muttered, "You've got to do better than that, son."

           The giant skeleton shook himself and scowled at the old man. "Whaddya mean? I didn't attack anyone. I was just makin' sure nobody went after Frisk."

           Another laugh, shorter and more cynical. "You're about three hundred years too young to play dumb with me, boy!" Gerson brandished the stick at him. "What I mean is, I don't blame you for bein' sweet on her, but you can't keep looking at her like that. For one thing, it's embarrassing! Wah ha ha!" Thu-thump. "More importantly," he said, sobering in an instant, "people 'round here have nothing to do but talk. No one's forgotten the whole mess with Chara, 'specially not His Majesty. Better not give him a reason to think history's gonna repeat itself."

           Sans tried to formulate a denial, and also several questions, but then the old tortoise banged his stick on the floor again, this time to assist himself in sliding off the barstools. "I'd tell you to leave her be," he grumbled, "but if your SOUL's made up its mind, I suppose there's no helping it." A gross, multi-part sniffle. "That little lady, strong enough to match a boss monster? Ha! Will wonders never cease?" He adjusted his pith helmet. "Well, feel free to come see me in Waterfall, the both of you—but not till tomorrow! This was plenty of excitement for one day! Wah ha!"

           "Hold up!" Sans protested as the tortoise started shambling toward the door. "What do you mean, 'the whole mess with'—"

           Right on cue, there was a cry of "BROTHER!" as Papyrus popped his head in. "BROTHER, COME AND SEE! KRISK HAS BROUGHT PUZZLES! THERE'S ONE FOR YOU, TOO!"

           Ah, the gifting had begun. Sans waved him away. "Tell 'er ta get started without me."

           "REALLY? IF YOU SAY SO... OH! HELLO, SIR GERSON! THE HUMAN SAID TO TELL YOU THAT SHE HAS PEANUT BRITTLE, NYEH-HEH!"

           "Ooooh," the elderly monster said, perking up. The moment Papyrus was gone, Gerson turned and rapped his stick on Sans' patella. "There you have it, boy! It's like my old mam always said: 'Gerson, if you ever find a girl who remembers how much an old fart like you loves his peanut brittle, you hang on to her, human or not!'"

           Sans highly doubted that Gerson's old mam had ever said that, but he wasn't in the mood to argue. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. Instead, he turned to the bartender as Gerson gradually left. "Hey, Grillbs. I’ve got a few minutes—what's on tap today?"

           It was disgusting, he knew, but the simple fact was that Grillby had to stay in business somehow. When there was no food to serve, he could always sell drinks, and when there were no drinks, he had gotten creative—for example, the "mudslide" he slid down the bar to Sans was named for its primary ingredient and sprinkled with enough magic to…still taste like mud. But it was a drink!

           The bartender wandered over as Sans downed the whole thing at once, remembering too late that he could have just put his tongue away and avoided tasting it at all. Clearly, he needed to drink a little more and get his head on straight. The skeleton gestured for another, and when Grillby crackled at him, Sans just said, "Don't worry, Frisk'll pay my tab."

           The flames on Grillby's eyebrows rose higher, but he produced another mudslide and watched Sans gulp it down. "So," said the boss monster, "I kinda remember what happened with Chara, but my memory ain't what it used to be since everythin’ blew up in my face." He held his mug out. "Wanna tell me a little more 'bout ‘er?"

 ~

             "...and this is for you, too," said Frisk, placing another box in front of Toriel.

           The goat monster shook her head. "Goodness, child, you shouldn't have! How am I supposed to carry all this back with me?"

           "Make Sans do it," Undyne suggested, to general approval.

           They had decided to tackle the gift distribution in stages, starting with Papyrus, Undyne, and Toriel, and were opening them in the skeleton brothers' living room. Papyrus was happily occupied with his first gift, an interlocking ring puzzle; he'd declined to open anything else yet, ostensibly to wait for his brother, but mostly out of impatience to get the rings apart.

           "Speaking of which, where is Sans?" asked Toriel. Papyrus was already muttering to himself, the rings clicking as he began tugging harder.

           "Who knows, Your Majesty?" Undyne had only a few boxes by her feet, and was doing her best not to look at them too hard until everything had been doled out. She brightened as Frisk set two more down for her. "Is that all of 'em?"

           "That's all for everyone here." Frisk picked up the very last package, straining a little to lift it, and took it to the back room. When she returned, she said, "You can open them now, Lady Toriel, or wait until you get home. Since we're staying so close by, Undyne, I think you can go ahea—"

           The Captain had already ripped open her first box and tossed the lid aside. She paused and squinted at an array of bottles nestled in white cotton. "What's all this?"

           "There's regular moisturizer, waterproof moisturizer, burn ointment, treatment for scale rot, an antiseptic for small cuts, and armor polish," Frisk explained, pointing to each in turn. "I infused everything myself, except the polish."

           "Thanks! I hope you don't expect me to remember all that," Undyne commented, bending to grab the next box and catching herself mid-rip. "Oh. Uh, sorry, Your Majesty. Your turn."

           Toriel smiled. "Please go ahead, Captain. I—"

           The box was already wide open. "Whoa!" It was a set of the "history books" Undyne had admired on the humans' last visit—the most action-filled comics Frisk could find, much more violent than the story-driven ones Alphys liked. She grabbed the top one and flipped through it gleefully. "Ha ha! I can't believe it! Are those his guts?"

           "NYEHHH!" Meanwhile, Papyrus was now reduced to banging the rings on the arm of the couch. "HUMAN! I DO NOT WISH TO ALARM YOU, BUT IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SOLD A DEFECTIVE PUZZLE!" He gave the rings a final shake and threw them on the floor, then plunked himself down on the couch, arms grumpily folded.

           Undyne glanced up from her comic and snickered. Papyrus looked very hurt until his friend bent to pick up the separated rings, holding them over her head like spoils of war. "See, Pap? You gave it your all, and look what happened!" She threw the rings back on the floor and caught his arms to pull him up for a triumphant noogie. "I knew you had it in you!"

           "Y-YES, OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN CONQUER ANY PUZZLE! N-NYEH-HEH-HEH! ...PLEASE STOP CELEBRATING MY GREAT VICTORY!"

           "I believe I'll open something now," Toriel murmured, leaving Papyrus to extricate himself. She unwrapped the paper on the top box, peeked inside, and immediately gave a squeal of joy. "Oh, my goodness! My child, how did you—" She clasped her hands. "Are those real vanilla beans?! And—"

           "I didn't know the exact recipe, so I got every pie ingredient I could think of," Frisk said, grinning at Toriel's excitement. She slid out the bottom box in the stack. "Check these next, please. I couldn't remember if you needed salted and unsalted butter, so I got both."

           "Yes, I do! But..." The boss monster pulled out tall jars of milk, buttermilk, and heavy cream, then looked at her narrowly. "I don't wish to be rude, but how long have you been transporting these? I know the weather is cold, but won't they have spoiled by now?"

           "Not on my watch," declared Frisk. "I used a few preservatives—if you put a little in the jar beforehand, it keeps the contents fresh for up to a week without affecting the flavor."

           "Seriously?" Even Undyne was interested. "That's pretty neat. Is this the kind of stuff you've been teaching Sans?"

           "Yes, it is. He knows how to make preservatives, medicine, fertilizer—I brought the recipes and ingredients for those, too. You'll be able to save a huge amount of magic using them."

           "I see," Toriel said slowly. She smiled, almost a grimace, as she put the jars away. "It may not have been under the best circumstances, but I am very thankful that he met you again, my child. His life has very hard since...since the accident, and I have not been as supportive as I could have. Spending time with a wonderful friend like you must have been such a relief to him."

           "Don't be so hard on yourself, Majesty. You had a lot of problems, too," protested Undyne.

           "Yes, but I..." Toriel was definitely grimacing now. "I suppose you're right, Captain. Still, I am very glad to know that he has been in Frisk's care."

           Frisk was fighting another blush. Her neck still itched from the healing spell the innkeeper had given her for the “crick” in her neck before they checked out that morning. "I hope I’ve helped. I know what it's like to lose someone, and to feel alone. I've missed you all so much," she said truthfully. "I just wish it was safe for some of you to come back with us for a visit."

           Toriel's golden gaze sharpened. "With 'us,' my child? What do you mean?"

           "Sans is gonna escort her home," Undyne said quickly. "Also, she wants bring some of our stuff back with her to show off, but she doesn't know how it all works. The humans are kinda used to Sans by now, so we figured he might as well tag along."

           "That does sound like a good idea," Toriel agreed, and Frisk caught Undyne's eye for a grateful moment. "Would you like to open something else now, Papyrus?"

           "HM?" The skeleton was playing with the rings again, figuring out how to lock them back together. "NO, THANK YOU, LADY TORIEL. I'LL WAIT FOR SANS. WHERE IS HE?"

           Undyne was already tearing open another box, unasked. "Oh, no way! Are these targets?!"

           "Of course! They look like wood, but it's actually metal." Frisk got up to look out the window. Where was Sans?

           "Who knows? Maybe he found a lady friend," Undyne said absently, flicking the metal discs to test their sturdiness.

           "That's not a nice thing to say, Undyne," Toriel reproved her.

           For half an irate second, Frisk thought Toriel was angry on her behalf. Then her brain caught up, and she turned to ask, "Why? Because there aren't any other boss monsters?"

           "Exactly," said the former Queen, "and a lesser monster would not suit him. It's honestly a bit cruel to suggest that he—"

           "WHAT ABOUT A HUMAN?" Papyrus asked without looking up.

           Pause. "A human?" Toriel repeated as Undyne and Frisk glanced at each other in alarm.

           "YES. HUMANS ARE PLENTIFUL, AND SOME OF THEM HAVE MAGIC! COULDN'T SANS BORROW ONE? FOR EXAMPLE, FRISK IS VERY—"

           "No."

           Everyone froze at the vehemence in Toriel's voice. The boss monster breathed in, and out, almost baring her teeth. "I...excuse me. I need to check that this is everything necessary for a pie."

           Undyne let the targets slide off her lap as Toriel took her boxes to the kitchen. "What's the matter with you, Papyrus?" the Captain hissed. "Why’d you have to go and bring up humans? Don't you remember what happened with Chara?"

           The skeleton's brow creased. "JUST THAT THE HUMAN PRINCESS WENT TO LIVE WITH OTHER HUMANS...WHEN WAS IT AGAIN?"

           "A little over…what, twenty years ago? I guess you were probably just a kid, but still…" Undyne saw how intently Frisk was listening, and sighed. The Captain checked the kitchen, where Toriel was occupied with moving things around and muttering to herself, then beckoned them closer. "Okay, here’s the short version. A bunch of humans came to see the King," she said quietly. "They were here for a couple weeks, and Chara got really depressed after they left. The King wound up sending her off to marry one of the guys she'd met—didn’t you learn this in history class, Pap?"

           Papyrus still looked blank, and the fish monster sighed in exasperation. "Anyway, she came right back here 'cause the marriage didn't work out, not sure why. Asgore had a huge fight with Asriel and the Queen about whether Chara should stay here or go marry another human. He made her leave again, but she never got married to anyone, and she didn't come back until the visit where everyone blew up."

           "OH." Papyrus looked at the reconnected rings in his hand. "WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH SANS MARRYING A HUMAN?"

           There went Frisk's face again. "Because," mumbled Undyne, "as far as everyone is concerned, it all happened because a human got too involved with monsters—an adult human,” she clarified, nodding at Frisk. “The whole problem with Chara was that there was no one here for her to pair off with. Monsters can always figure out a way to combine their magic if they really want to have kids, but she didn't have any magic at all, so it wouldn’t have worked. Besides, humans barely even live sixty years. Asgore thought it'd cause too much heartache if she stayed."

           Papyrus digested this information for a moment, then said at least part of what Frisk was thinking: "DIDN'T IT CAUSE A LOT MORE HEARTACHE TO SEND HER AWAY? THIS WAS HER HOME, AND THEY WERE HER FAMILY, EVEN IF SHE COULDN’T GET MARRIED."

           "That's exactly what Asriel and Toriel thought, and they never forgave him for it. Then both Chara and Asriel wound up dead, and Asgore blamed every single thing on the humans. Then Toriel stood up in front of everyone and said it was his own damn fault for throwing their child out like a dog, twice, and here we are now."

           Frisk shivered. Those were Chara's words from the day Frisk hid in the living room and overheard those terrible things. As a child, she hadn't understood why Chara seemed to hate her kind, loving parents so much. Poor Princess, Frisk thought bitterly, digging her nails into her leg. "Papyrus," she said aloud, "check your gray box. It's not a puzzle."

           A moment later, Toriel looked up at a strange sound, like air hissing out of a broken pipe. She finished re-packing the pie ingredients and turned to see Papyrus holding up a bundle of dry pasta, some ground beef, various herbs, and a bag of fresh tomatoes. His sockets were the size of salad plates, and he was making a noise that could best be described as a pre-scream.

           "Hey, would you look at that, Pap! You haven't made spaghetti in years! What have you done?" Undyne said through gritted teeth, ending with a glare at Frisk.

           As expected, Papyrus paid no attention. He had just enough presence of mind to set the box down gently before he exploded into a rapturous, unbroken "THANK YOOOOU" that lasted at least two straight minutes, starting with a huge hug-and-twirl for Frisk, then Undyne as she rescued the human, and finally ending in the kitchen with "LADY TORIEL!!! LOOK!!!!"

           "That is wonderful, Papyrus, but…oh, dear! Look at the time," Toriel exclaimed. "Ladies, may I expect you at my house tonight, around eight o’clock? I'll have a pie waiting!"

           Frisk bit back her reflexive protest about Sans. "What about the rest of your gifts?" she asked instead.

           Toriel smiled at her. "We can come back here tomorrow, of course! After all, I missed seeing Sans today. We don't need to stay cooped up in the Ruins for your entire visit!"

           "AND IT MAY BE POSSIBLE THAT I WILL HAVE LEFTOVER SPAGHETTI FOR YOU, LADY TORIEL!" added Papyrus. "NOT THAT I EXPECT IT TO GO UNEATEN, NYEH! I WILL MERELY BE SURE TO MAKE ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE. I WOULD HATE FOR YOU TO MISS THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN OF CULINARY PERFECTION!"

           "Yes, of course," the former Queen said kindly, eye twitching only a little.

           The priestess hesitated, and Undyne stepped in again: "We'll see what happens this afternoon, Your Majesty. We've got a lot more stuff to give out, and Alphys wants to see Frisk, too. I don't know how late we'll be back here tonight, and it's a long walk to the Ruins—"

           "That's what Sans is for!" Toriel said gaily, and Frisk felt a twinge of irritation. "If I come across him," the boss monster continued, gathering up the boxes of ingredients, "I will be sure to send him straight here. Until then, my child, please enjoy your stay. I'll see you this evening!"

           There was no way out of it, so Frisk smiled and nodded and waited for the door to close before she said, "Dammit."

           Undyne shrugged sympathetically. "It's a mom thing. Mine was the same way."

           Frisk bent to pick up handfuls of packing paper. "So was mine," she muttered.

           The Captain waited for more, but Frisk went on grabbing and folding up paper until it became apparent that that was all. Undyne shrugged, glanced at her unopened boxes, and shrugged again, reaching for the comics. "Just put it outside," she advised as Frisk looked around for a larger trashcan. The human sighed, draping her cloak over her shoulders as she opened the door.

           Papyrus was puttering around the kitchen in sheer bliss. Out of habit, Undyne got up to supervise, and they were soon embroiled in a deathmatch against the tomatoes and noodles. "Higher! HIGHER!" the Captain yelled. "Remember! You have to break your foes' fighting spirit! Hear their cries of defeat and smell their agony!"

           The skeleton clanged the wooden spoon harder against the sides of the pot. "Yes! I hear it!" he exclaimed.

           "Yes! Good! You—" Undyne stopped. "Wait. I hear it, too." She went to the door, through which came a distinctive, high-pitched sound. "Oh," she said in disgust. "What the hell is he doing here?" The fish monster reached for the doorknob. "Close your ears, Pap."

           Papyrus blinked, spoon still poised for a mortal blow. "But I don't have—"

           Undyne opened the door, and the skeleton dropped the spoon into the sauce mixture as a shrill mechanical voice cut through the air: "I simply can't believe it! My little beauty grew into such a real beauty! What a sight for sore eyes amidst all these...these monsters!"

           "Shut up, tin man," snapped the Royal Guard Captain, coming onto the porch. "I—oh! Hey, Alphys! Where did you guys come from?"

           "From a place with manners." Mettaton adjusted his fur stole and swept back his fringe of real black hair. "That awful skeleton said my little beauty was here, so I came all this way—"

           "Do you know where Sans is?" demanded Frisk, who was still recovering from the shock of going to take out the garbage and encountering Mettaton instead.

           "Y-yes," said the scientist, coming up behind the automaton. "He came to see me in a p-panic because he forgot how to teleport home. I hope he's still sleeping back in the l-lab."

           Frisk stood stock-still. “He forgot…?”

“Pffffahahahaha!" The fish monster slammed her fist into the side of the house. "Oh my God! I knew I should have dragged him out of Grillby's when I had the chance! He was drunk, wasn't he?"

           Alphys just sighed. Frisk growled under her breath, which made Undyne laugh even harder. "He..." She choked back a sob. "He was right here, and he walked all the way to...to..."

           Pause. "I think he t-took the ferry," Alphys said, and moved back as the Captain collapsed into a snorting heap.

           Oh, for God's sake, Sans! "Never mind. It's wonderful to see you again, Mettaton!" she said with unfeigned enthusiasm, shaking the automaton's still-pearly-gloved hand. His arms were much less floppy now, his body more streamlined, face smoothly outlined with tiny gemstones. Before he could launch into any further praise, the human moved aside and took Alphys' clawed hand. "And thank you so much for coming all the way here, Doctor. It means a lot to me."

           There was that shy, scaly smile. "Th-thank you, um, Frisk. I'm r-really glad you're here." She chuckled nervously. "This is going to t-take some getting used to. But...you are v-very p-pretty."

           Frisk smiled wider, and bent to give the scientist a hug. “Thank you,” she said in Alphys’ ear. “I’ve really missed you.”

The scientist mumbled something, then yelped as Undyne suddenly scooped them both up. "You know what else? This lady brought a buttload of presents for everyone,” she announced, setting them down on the porch. “Go on in while I grab your stuff!"

           "I..." It was no use pointing out that the living room was about a third of the size required to open all the additional gifts, especially Mettaton's: Undyne was already charging toward the shed. "Yes, please, come in," said Frisk, leading the way inside. It would pass the time till Sans got back, she thought ruefully.

 ~

             It wasn't his fault. Grillby had talked, and Sans had drank mudslides, and then Sans didn't know where he was anymore.

           Everything was a blur for a while after that. He had no explanation for why he kept walking back and forth past his house, or how he wound up on the ferry, or how long he'd been lying outside the lab when Mettaton's rib-prodding woke him up. Sans had made it inside and found some nice cool floor to collapse on, and nothing else happened for a while.

           Then a horrible, oozing feeling of dread crept over him, starting at the top of his cranium and trickling down till it hit his SOUL. He twisted to look upward at a familiar little pair of feet. The demon-child was suddenly peering down into his face, waving merrily, whispering, “Good to be back.”

           And then it was gone. It stayed gone, too—no more fear, no nightmares, nothing. That was a relief, but a really weird one. The thing probably hadn’t even been there; it was just the mudslide talking…

The next time Sans awoke, he was alone, and any lingering apprehensions vanished as he looked at the clock. It was already late afternoon, heading into the evening. Shit! Where was Alphys? Where was Frisk?!

           ...Right. She was in Snowdin. Okay.

           Where was Snowdin?!

           Think, think. Snowdin: he lived there. It had his house. Sans took stock of his magic, which was doing well, and his mental capabilities, which could probably direct his teleportation now without getting him encased in solid rock or dropping him hundreds of feet from the cavern ceiling. The giant skeleton concentrated, and a moment later, he was back on the floor in his own room.

           An odd smell was drifting up from the kitchen almost directly below. Dammit, he'd told Frisk not to actually get any spaghetti stuff! Oh, well, Pap sounded pretty happy. Where was everyone else?

           A faint thud on the side of the house answered that question; Undyne was outside, laughing her ass off. Not long after, the front door crashed open and more voices flooded the house. To his surprise, he heard Mettaton and maybe a little of Alphys before Undyne and Papyrus drowned her out. There was Frisk, too, directing things—how the hell were they going to fit everyone inside?

           The answer seemed to be a combination of Papyrus sitting on the stairs and Undyne smushing up against Alphys on the couch. Sans wished Undyne would hurry up and ask her out already; Al could use some non-fictional companionship, and the house could use a little less time with Undyne in it.

           Should he at least come out and say hi, even if he had to stay upstairs and lean over the railing? But he didn't feel like talking to everyone, or making them feel like they had to find room for him. Besides, for all he knew, Frisk was still mad at him, just because he'd been a stupid jerk in front of people and then disappeared without warning for half the day...

           No, better stay where he was for now, safe in his room, listening to them have fun as Undyne brought the presents in, and not feeling jealous or lonely at all.

           Mettaton went first, because he was Mettaton. He also had the bulkiest set of gifts, including several bolts of very expensive silk; the automaton was so overjoyed that he promised to have his tailors make a couple of things for Frisk, too, and loan her some of his new hair accessories. Sans just hoped he wasn't going to make her wear the literal paint she'd bought for his face!

           Did she even own any makeup? He'd never seen her wear more than a tiny bit. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her wear anything fancier than that dumb, sexy purple dress for All Souls Day.

           There was more mechanical jubilation from downstairs, this time over the sets of dance steps and sheet music. Now MTT was proposing a grand fete after the next shipment of food arrived and Frisk's measurements had been taken, perhaps toward the end of her visit. After all, she still couldn’t be sure that Asgore was willing to make peace between the two kingdoms, and whether the dance would be a celebration or a permanent send-off; more importantly, they couldn’t start planning till the caterers knew exactly what they'd be working with.

           Sans smirked into the darkness. A party, huh? As long as it didn't remind anyone of the farewell gala thirteen-ish years ago, then whatever, Frisk would love it; he'd be careful not to stare too hard if she got dressed up. He'd seen plenty of fancy ladies at the castle, and he was sure he could handle the sight of any—

           Cries of dismay came through the floorboards. The boss monster was ready to zip downstairs and start busting heads, but the furor died right down, and he soon pieced together what'd happened: Papyrus had come over to admire something with a plate of spaghetti in his hand, only to trip over...probably nothing, and Frisk had thrown herself between the silk on Mettaton’s lap and the flying arc of tomato sauce.

           The good news was that Mettaton was offering to take her laundry back with him, including a stain treatment for her sacrificed dress; the bad news was that she didn't have anything clean to wear in the meantime. There was a moment of silence as they tried to figure out what to do, with Mettaton's entourage all the way off in Hotland and the shops already closed for the day.

           Alphys spoke, and after another quiet moment, Papyrus yelled something, his footsteps tramping excitedly up the stairs, Frish right behind him. They clattered around for a minute in Pap’s room, probably the closet; then she headed to the bathroom at the end of the hall, Sans trying not to tense up as she walked by.

           He must have made some kind of noise, because now Papyrus was knocking on his door. "BROTHER? IS THAT YOU? IF THAT IS YOU, COME OUT THIS INSTANT! WE HAVE ALL BEEN CONCERNED ABOUT YOU AND YOUR TENDENCY TO DISAPPEAR FOR LONG PERIODS WITHOUT BEING HERE!"

           Sans cringed. Of course Pap would be worried about him not coming back! Feeling like a complete ass, the boss monster got up slowly, yawning wide and rubbing his sockets as he opened the door. "Hey, bro," he mumbled. "Sorry 'bout that. I just thought I'd get some rest, didn't know I was gonna fall asleep."

           "HMPH." Papyrus didn't just make the sound; he always had to say "hummff." "COME DOWNSTAIRS AND SAY HELLO TO OUR GUESTS. AND SPAGHETTI!! THE GREATEST GUEST OF ALL!!"

           Oh, for God's sake, Frisk! Why had she—no, there was no use crying about it now. He couldn’t count on giving it away to anyone, either: even the starvingest monster remembered what Pap’s cooking was like. "Whoa, really? Lemme see," Sans said with enough enthusiasm to make Papyrus race downstairs to the kitchen.

The boss monster came out and paused at the head of the stairs. There was a small table in the corner at the foot of the staircase; he lifted it up and set it down next to him in the hallway, then zipped himself down to sit in the now-free space. God, he hated being huge. "Hey, guys," he said, pulling his legs up to his ribcage.

           "What do you mean, 'hey, guys'?!" Undyne was glad for the excuse to put down her spaghetti, though it was difficult to find room for it on the floor. "What the hell have you been doing, besides being drunk and stupid?" She tried to stay angry, but a smirk kept showing through. "Did you seriously go all the way to the lab because you couldn't find your house?"

           A beat of silence. "Yes?" hazarded Sans.

           The only thing that saved Undyne from another attack of the giggles was the bathroom door opening upstairs. "Is that you, Sans?" called Frisk.

           His SOUL went pitter-patter again. "Yeah, I'm back. Couldn't stay away from Pap's spaghetti," he replied, earning a soft “NYEHH” from the kitchen.

           "I dunno, this might not be the right batch for you," Undyne said, loud enough for Frisk to hear. "The sauce is, uh, good, but it’s..." Snort. "It's..." Cough. "It's really lumpy."

           More silence. It took Sans a second to remember why he wanted to punch her for saying that, and then fucking Papyrus had to add,  “LUMPS ARE ESSENTIAL FOR PROPER FLAVOR!”

It was quiet upstairs; then Undyne snickered, and Frisk burst out laughing, the sound echoing down the stairwell and setting Undyne off again until both women were near tears.

           "Private jokes are for children, darling," Mettaton informed Undyne, nudging his own plate away with his foot.

           "You're for children," she mumbled, and Mettaton rolled his crystalline eyes.

           “WELL?” A moment of crisis united them again: Papyrus was in the kitchen doorway, looking expectant. Alphys bravely twirled up an entire forkful and crammed it in her mouth, moving her cheeks to fake a smile.

They all fell respectfully silent as Papyrus went back to the kitchen, Undyne grabbing a glass of water for Alphys to help wash it down. "Oh, d-dear. Well, getting back to your idea, M-Mettaton," the scientist wheezed, "we should r-really ask His Majesty b-before we have any big events like that."

           Mettaton clicked at her. "Oh, Alphys, it won't be anything excessive! Just a band, a few tables, every single monster in the Underground dressed in their absolute best—"

           "Like this?" Frisk asked wryly, coming down the last step.

           Sans had angled himself to face the others, and he stayed that way long enough to see their reactions first. For some reason, Mettaton looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. “Really, darling?” the automaton asked distastefully. “It’s like wrapping a star sapphire in toilet paper.”

Papyrus, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WOULD FIT YOU, HUMAN! SANS, LOOK AT WHAT I'VE HAD IN MY CLOSET ALL THESE YEARS, JUST IN CASE, NYEH-HEH!"

           "I l-like it. If w-we ever had a costume party, that w-would be perfect," Alphys remarked, adjusting her glasses.

           Undyne snorted. "Yeah, except he didn’t look like that up top!"

           Sans had no idea what to expect when he turned his head. He’d just been imagining Frisk in a ruffly ballgown, and it occurred to him much later that if she’d come downstairs wearing something really fancy or weird, he’d have been fine. But she wasn’t, and he wasn’t.

           Frisk was wearing his old clothes. The blue hooded jacket, the white shirt, the black pants with white stripes—there they were, wrenchingly familiar and yet very different. For one thing, they were a bit too small on her; the pants reached the tops of her knees, while the shirt just barely covered her midsection. She wasn’t a lot taller now than he’d been before the accident, but as Undyne had immediately noticed, Frisk was filling it out far better than Sans ever had.

           Her perfect figure notwithstanding, it also hit him that she was wearing the most shoddy, unfashionable, lazily masculine clothes possible – hence Mettaton’s distress – and she still looked like a princess.

           "SPEECHLESS AT MY FORETHOUGHT, EH, BROTHER?" Papyrus had puffed his own chest out. "THE CLOTHING YOU WORE TO THE GALA MAY HAVE BEEN DESTROYED, BUT I HAD A SECOND, SECRET SET HIDDEN AWAY! DID YOU NEVER WONDER HOW I ALWAYS WASHED YOUR CLOTHES SO QUICKLY WHEN YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER?"

           Sans tried to say "Sort of," or literally anything else, but too many things were crowding his mind, starting with nostalgia, and amazement that he'd ever been that small, with some bemusement that she was still so tiny. But that outfit also represented everything he used to be, everything he wanted back and couldn't have...and Frisk, who he was supposed to pretend he didn't want.

           That was plenty of emotional crap to work through, and it wasn’t even his biggest problem. When Sans tried looking down to get ahold of himself, he found himself staring at the one thing that fit her perfectly.

           “YES, I EVEN PRESERVED YOUR SOCKS FOR POSTERITY!” boasted Papyrus. “I HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO KEEP THAT GIANT PILE IN YOUR ROOM, EXCEPT OF COURSE FOR THE ONES I MADE INTO SOCK PUPPETS. BUT THOSE THAT I SAVED AS REGULAR SOCKS HAVE BEEN AWAITING THE DAY WHEN SOMEONE COULD WEAR THEM AGAIN!”

           Sans made a noise. It could have been a disagreeable noise, or a polite one, or anything in between. He didn’t know, or care, because her feet were right there, and his dumb old socks had somehow become the most erotic thing imaginable—and he could imagine a lot of things. Sure, her feet had always been cute to look at because they were so small, but so was the rest of her. Those stupid goddamn socks were…more cute. A lot more.

           Not for the first time, he thought of last night, smelling and hearing and touching, and wondered what’d happen if they ever got around to that stuff again with more lights on. He could handle seeing her, or everything else at once, and literally no combination thereof.

           Frisk was looking at him, wine-colored eyes wide with puzzlement. “Sans?” She raised one foot to scratch her other calf. “Are you—”

Noooope nope— The only thing Sans could do to keep from tackling her in front of everyone was yell, “Be right back!” and take a shortcut to the first place he could think of.

 ~

             There was stunned silence in his aftermath. Alphys gave a faint, heartbroken moan of “Oh, c-c-c’mon, he was right at the best part!”

           “My, my,” Mettaton said slowly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was being…amorous.”

           “Nope, no way, he’s just weird,” Undyne muttered. “He probably doesn’t have a thing for feet at all. …Geez, did you guys see the way he was staring?! What’s wrong with him?”

           Frisk was beet-red. “Well, dinner was absolutely delicious!” she chirped. “Thank you, Papyrus! So, Alphys! Why don’t you open your gifts now?!”

By unspoken consent, they turned to watch Alphys pick up her first box, passing their plates back for Frisk to discreetly scrape back into the pot and shove back into the refrigerator. Luckily, Papyrus wasn’t paying much attention; he was still staring at the foot of the stairs where his brother had been. “HOW STRANGE,” he muttered. “I REALLY THOUGHT HE’D LIKE THE SOCKS.”

 ~

             One hour later, the clock struck eight, and Asgore jerked upright, staring blearily into the semi-darkness. Only the kitchen light was on; the fireplace was down to the last embers. The King of monsters retrieved his cold tea, threw it into the grate, and got up to put the mug in the sink.

           A sound at the front door made him look up; a heavy knock made him scowl and raise his voice a little more than necessary. “Yes? Can it wait till morning?” he asked brusquely.

           “I don’t think ya should, Yer Majesty,” said a familiar voice.

           Asgore’s scowl deepened until he was nearly snarling. With great effort, he said, “One moment, Sans,” and tossed the mug into the kitchen, ignoring the sound of ceramic breaking. He took his time crossing the living room, and was in no hurry to unlock or open the door. “Good evening,” he eventually greeted the other boss monster.

           Sans was a couple of steps down, putting him and the King on eye level. “Evenin’,” he replied. “Sorry ta be here so close to bedtime, but I owe someone a favor.”

           Asgore raised an eyebrow. “A favor? What do y—”

           “Dreemurr.”

           The King stood as though he’d been changed to stone: not even his eyes moved as Toriel emerged from behind the leafless black tree in the courtyard. She nodded grimly, folding her hands. “I am here to say something to you about Frisk. Anything you say in return will be a waste of breath.”

No reaction. She nodded again and took another step forward, voice flat, eyes cold and hard. “You’ve allowed Frisk to be here, but I know you, Your Majesty. You’ll let the rest of her visit pass without so much as a word to her, and you will let her go home empty-handed, hoping Stephin will forbid her to come again and save you further discomfort. Never mind the possibility of procuring food for your people and freeing our kindred from slavery, unless you—”

           “Tori,” grunted Sans. “Leave ‘im alone. Get to the point.”

           Asgore glanced at him in surprise. Toriel ground her teeth, but after a moment, she said calmly, “You are right, my friend. I will be brief: I wish to inform His Majesty that if any harm befalls Frisk for any reason while she is here, there will be consequences…and that if His Majesty does not meet with her in a diplomatic capacity before she returns to the humans, I will do so.”

           Both men started. “You can’t do that,” the King protested. “When you left here—”

           Sans braced himself, and sure enough, Tori drew herself up till she seemed about thirty feet tall. “Do not tell me what I cannot do, Dreemurr!” she thundered. “When I left here, I ceased to be Queen, but I have not ceased to be me! You will not take another child from me, and I will not allow you to deprive our people of their last hope because you are too proud to admit your own incompetence! Do you understand?”

           One more long, frozen instant. Asgore took a deep breath…

           He slammed the door shut.

           Sans coughed theatrically. “So. That…that happened.”

           Toriel’s eyes closed. “Take us to Snowdin, please” was all she said.

           Sans complied, letting her come up and lay a furry hand on his arm before he whisked them through space and onto the porch of his house.

           “Thank you, my friend,” said Toriel. She gave him a tired smile. “I am so sorry. You wanted someone to talk to, and I made you take me straight to that close-minded, selfish—” The former Queen shook herself. “I…don’t suppose that whatever you wanted to talk about can be discussed in a minute or so? I’d like to collect the girls and head home now. If you want to stop by tomorrow—”

           “Nah, the timing’s my fault. Don’t worry, it’s a short thing,” Sans said absently. He glanced at the door, wondering if everyone was still there, then ceasing to wonder as he heard several different voices at once and also some clanking. It sounded like they were playing charades. “It’s more of a thing I’d like ya to think over so we can talk about it later. And don’t tell anyone. Please.”

           Toriel nodded pleasantly. “Of course, Sans. What is troubling you?”

           Sans grabbed the doorknob, said, “I’m in love with a human,” and opened the door to boisterous greetings of “Sans!” “Where have you been, punk?!” and “SANS! THANK GOODNESS! QUICK, HELP ME EXPRESS THE CONCEPT OF ‘SUMMER RAINDROPS’!”

#songfell #shoulda been like three ones oh well

[asexualastarion]

For the album ask game... how about The Black Parade?

oh ABSOLUTELY. i LOVE you. this is all subject to change at the drop of the hat bc im wishy-washy and i love all of these songs anyway so

this got WAY too long so i am putting it under a readmore shhvkldlkdgjlkdsj

not including b-sides:

1. Teenagers- kind of a basic pick i know, BUT, in my defense, the song slaps. it’s such a fun song, especially when you’re singing it at the top of your lungs. the guitar part is super cool too- im trying to learn it rn but it’s a slow process bc im bad at guitar.

2. Mama- what can i say. it fucks. the old time-y feel, the harmonies/background vocals, the layers. the guitar goes so fucking hard. banging lyrics- “you should’ve raised a baby girl, i should have been a better son”??????? songs to be trans to.”but the shit that i’ve done with this fuck of a gun” is the kind of lyric that you can only properly convey if you’re screaming it at the top of your lungs. the whole ending is just. mind blowing

3. The End.- LISTEN!!!!!!!!! the end is WAY TOO FUCKING UNDERRATED!!!! oh my goddd i love it so much. i love it SO much. it’s such a perfect beginning to the song. the lyrics are great (”now come one, come all, to this tragic affair” if you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, you can find out first hand what it’s like to be me”, “another contusion, my funeral jag. here’s my resignation, i’ll serve it in drag. you’ve got front row seats to the penitence ball, when i grow up, i want to be NOTHING AT ALL!!! SAVE ME!!! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!! SAVE ME!!! TOO YOUNG TO DIE, AND MY DEAR!!! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME JUST WALK AWAY AND TAKE ME!!). the bit with the snapping and the ooooohs is fun too. such a good song, it could honestly be 1 or 2 but my ranking system isnt based in logic and makes no sense to even myself

4. House of Wolves- house of wolves was my favorite mcr song for a good chunk of time, but as a result i’m kinda burned out on it, which is why it isn’t higher.  however it is still number four  because it’s objectively a fucking amazing song. the guitar is so fuckin fun, the lyrics are great, and it’s just. fun to dance around and sing it at the top of your lungs. you better run like the devil cause they’re never gonna leave you alone!!!!! tell me i’m a bad, bad, bad, bad man!!!

5. Welcome to the Black Parade- the big man itself. the titular song. their biggest hit. a lot of people shit on wttbp for being popular and, like, pretty much the only song of theirs to ever be on the radio anymore (and even then it’s once in a blue moon), BUT. it got popular for a reason. it’s a really good song. i love the structure of it, i love how it builds and builds and builds. the lyrics are wonderfully done- “a world that sent you reelin from decimated dreams/ your misery and hate will kill us all”, the whole “do or die, you’ll never make me” stanza is The Ultimate rallying cry. and the “im just a man, i’m not a hero” is just. ughghghdlkslakdjglsdkg. the titular song of an album entirely about death and dying and misery being SO hopeful and SO upbeat really portrays the album as a whole much differently- mcr is known as The Emo Band because, yeah, their aesthetic is dark and their songs touch dark stuff but they have never been all whiney and boo-hoo-y and melancholic for the sake of melancholy. there’s always been a positive note to their music and a lot of people just don’t get that which makes me sad. anyway. wttbp is fun and i like it and i like the drums and the trumpets at the end. marching bands fuck

6. Blood- ok so the pattern here seems to be that i favor the fun songs over the slow ones, and blood sticks with that. much like with mama, i love the old time-y feel. i love that this is like a fun little bonus ditty to end the album on. the lyrics are silly and fun and jovial, and the piano is great. love it and it makes me happy

7. Disenchanted- OUGHH. OUUUUUGH. i know cancer is objectively the saddest song on the album, but disenchanted just hits different. “when the lights all went out, we watched our lives on the screen/ i hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene” just DECIMATES me, man. the acoustic guitar is a nice change of pace, and the vocal performance is just. so fucking emotional. especially the “woahhhhhhhh-ohs” at the end. great song, makes me Feel Emotions

8. The Sharpest Lives- ok so i know this is pretty much in the middle of the list, but i want to stress that i dont hate any of the songs on this album, so even the middle of the list is pretty fuckin good imo. the sharpest lives makes me go batshit.  the lyrics are so fucking wild. “a light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be” is SO fuckin sick like OH my god. what a line. also “there’s a place in the dark where the animals go/ you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow/ juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands/ drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, romeo” like WHAT?????????????? GERARD POPPED OFF W THIS ONE FOLKS!! also i love how at the beginning the whisper-y vocals bounce from ear to ear. also “so why don’t you blow me......a kiss before she goes” is fuckin hilarious. honestly this song should be higher but i havent gone through a phase where i’ve been obsessed w it yet so it stays down here for now. one day it will take hold and be all i can listen to for a month straight and THEN it will climb the ranks. 

9. Cancer- makes me cry like a liddol baby. my mom doesnt let it play in the car cause it makes her too sad. twenty one pilots covered it and it was FUCKING AWFUL so the song is kinda ruined now cause i can only think about their shitty cover. like the AUDACITY. but anyway besides that the song is heart wrenching and amazing. the hardest part of this is leavin you!!!!

10. Dead!- look, i know technically the end. and dead! are the same song/ are just continuations of each other but i’m listing them separately bc dead! is, to me, the worse of the two. not that it’s bad or anything, it just doesn’t pop off the same way the end. and all the songs before it on the list do. however i do love the guitar at the beginning and the solo, and the “one! two! one two three four! LA LA LA LAs” are super fucking fun. 

11. Famous Last Words- i used to hate this song!!!! i truly did!! it’s obvs not on the top of my list now or anything, but i have grown to appreciate it a lot more than i used to. like with wttbp, it is the silver lining of the album that betrays its optimistic side. it’s a happy final message to a dark album. the ending is fucking amazing. I am not afraid to keep on living!!!! i am not afraid to walk this world alone!!!!!!

12. Sleep- Sleep is, unfortunately, just kinda boring in comparison. i almost forgot to even put it on the list. however, i do like the “the hardest part’s the awful things that i’ve seen” and the “a drink, for the horrors that i’m in. for the good guys and the bad guys, for the monsters that i’ve been” lines. also the “three cheers for tyranny, unapologetic apathy!” line. but overall it’s just. eh

13. This is How I Disappear- i have. complicated feelings on tihid. on one hand, it reminds me of my favorite oc, re, and is on their playlist. on the other hand, i have grown bored with it over time. it just doesn’t stand out to me at all really. that being said, i do really like the “who walks among the famous living dead” and the “can you hear me cry out to you” stanzas. 

14. I Don’t Love You- while i dont think idly is a bad song at all, it just simply isnt my kind of song. i do think gerard’s vocals are extremely strong throughout, especially during the “when you go, would you have the guts to say/ i don’t love you like i loved you yesterday” line. like wow ok maam please continue. but overall i just dont vibe w breakup songs bc i cant relate

including b sides: 1. Heaven Help Us

2. Kill All Your Friends

3. Everything else

4. My  Way Home is Through You

my reasoning: 

heaven help us is tied for my favorite mcr song Of All Time. everything about this song is catnip for lil old me. the angsty christian imagery, the vocals, the guitar. all of it. the lyrics make me lose my mind, especially the “will you pray for me? or make a saint of me? and will you lay for me? or make a saint of- cause i’ll give you all the nails you need/cover me in gasoline/ wipe away those tears of blood again/ and the punchline to the joke is asking ‘SOMEONE SAVE US’” and the “you don’t know a thing about my sins/ or the misery begins/ you don’t know, so i’m burnin! I’m burnin!!!” parts. like i absolutely vibe with this song so fucking hard. i sing it constantly, it’s great to sing (very stimmy for me), it sounds beautiful. i am obsessed with it through and through

similarly, kill all your friends also speaks to my very soul. i can’t pick favorite lyrics bc id just have to copy and paste the whole song. i love the build-up, i love the time progression throughout the song (it’s been TEN FUCKING YEARS since i’ve been seein your faaaaaace rounnnnnd heeeere), i love the “you’ll never take me alives”. literally everything about this song makes me emo. it just Gets Me. it’s literally about my greatest fear. all my friends growing up and moving away and getting on with their lives without me, leaving me to rot in my hometown waiting for them to return. we only see each other at weddings and funerals, so it’s time to kill all your friends so we can party when the funeral ends!! it’s probably tied with heaven help us, but i’m putting it at number two just because it didn’t hook me as strongly as hhu did. it’s more of a strong, steady favorite than a “this song has latched on to my very soul and i have to listen to it on repeat over and over and over again”, if that makes sense. it’s still in my top 5 mcr songs though

i never vibed with my way home is through you. i don’t listen to it often, and i just don’t really feel it. it’s not bad, it’s just. eh.

anyway if you’ve read this far down i love you so much. thank you for listening to me ramble, mcr means a lot and i love to infodump about my music tastes. i really really appreciate being given an opportunity to do so <3

#mcr #asks #anon #SERIOUSLY. ILY. MWAH.

[dr-gloom]

The Makings of Greatness: Chapter 12

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: platonic logince, platonic moxiety, platonic anxeit, familial ThVi

Tags/Warnings (for this chapter): pattons so cute lol, idk i cant really think of any tags, injury, conspiring

Ko-fi

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue  Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Ch 10  Ch 11  Ch 12  Ch 13  Ch 14  Ch 15  Ch 16  Ch 17

Virgil scoffs lightly, waiving his hands around. “Wait wait wait, what about the treasure!”

Patton looks regretful. “I wanna say… Larry.”

“The- the centroid of the mechanism, or…”

Patton smiles hesitantly. “I’m sorry, my memory isn’t what it used to be; I lost my mind!” Virgil slumps, defeated. And he was so close… “Literally!” Patton’s head spins around and he points to the gaping spot in the back of his head where the wires stick out. “You haven’t found it, have you? My memory circuit?” His head spins back around and he looks at Virgil hopefully. Virgil sighs, shaking his head.

“I… I need to find a place to hide, Patton. So… I’m just gonna… go.”

Virgil never thought it was possible for a robot to look so heartbroken, but Patton’s face absolutely fell as Virgil walked away from him. “Oh, uh…. Well… I guess this is goodbye? Okay… I’m just gonna…” He turns away from Virgil. “I’m sorry that I’m so… dysfunctional.” Virgil pauses, glancing back at Patton. “So uh… Go ahead. I do understand. I do…. Bye-bye.” Virgil looks at Morph, fighting with himself mentally. He really needed to find a hiding place, and Patton was…. Well, he was loud, and crazy, and could turn on Virgil any second. Virgil sighs.

“Look…. If you’re gonna come along, you’re gonna have to stop talking.”

Patton jumps up, smiling and running over to Virgil. “Oh, this is great!” He jumps into Virgil’s arms, and Virgil scrambles to catch him. “Me and my best buddy, lookin’ for a-!” He wilts slightly at the glare Virgil shoots him. “Being quiet. Yep.” He hugs Virgil’s head.

“And you have to stop touching me.”

Patton grins and nods, hopping out of Virgil’s arms. “Touching and talking, the two big no-no’s. Got it!”

Virgil sighs, looking around. “Okay… I think we should go that way…” He turns to walk in a different direction, and Patton grabs his arm to stop him.

“Hey! Before we go on our big adventure… search… thing. We should stop by my place!” He pulls a bushel of those tube-shaped stalks aside to reveal a strange sort of egg-shaped structure with a large opening in its side about half a mile away; possibly a previously crashed pod that had long since been overtaken by vegetation, for all Virgil could tell. He grins. Perfect.

“Pat, I think you just solved my problem.”

“Ooh, really? What’d I do?”

Virgil looks around the interior as Logan carries Roman further inside, Patton bustling about to dust things off, move clutter around, and clear a space for Roman. Now that he was actually inside the structure, it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t some felled craft. But then… what was it? Was it always intended to be Patton’s home even when Flint was alive?

The same strange pattern decorating both the planet’s metallic surface and the surface of the map was scattered across the round walls of Patton’s home. Round hatches protruded from the floor, and various random objects – a chess set, a sail and mast, a couple small barrels, bottles, pots and jars – were cluttered near the back; Virgil’s best guess was Patton’s room, though he couldn’t fathom how having a bunch of random junk was the same as having a room full of toys and books. Aside from the hatches and the clutter, the inside of the structure was essentially empty, now having been covered in moss and other foliage since it seemed Patton wasn’t too big on upkeep. And who could blame him? He was just a robot, stranded alone on a planet for god knows how long.

“Sorry about the mess, guys! You think in a hundred years I might’a cleaned up a little more but..” He laughs lightly. “You kinda stop expecting company, I guess, and I’m only a robot!” He turns around, smiling as he watches Logan set Roman against one of the larger hatches in the floor, providing a decent support for Roman to lay back in a slightly elevated position. “Aw, how cute! How about drinks for the happy couple?” He grabs a tray from behind the sail and holds it out, two flower pots (one with a wrench in it) sloshing oil onto its surface.

Logan grimaces. “Ah, no thank you. And we are not a couple, I am merely acting as the captain’s physician until we get off this planet.” He shrugs off his coat, looking around. “The markings on the walls are highly intriguing. They closely resemble the ones on the map; likely a long-forgotten hieroglyphic language.”

“Mr. Shae.” Virgil turns from his own observing to look down at Roman, who’s sitting up despite the obvious pain he’s in, one arm in a makeshift sling. “Stop anyone who tries to approach.” He grunts and curls in on himself, and Logan places his folded-up coat behind Roman, guiding him to lay back and use the coat as a pillow.

“Yes, yes, captain. Now you should listen to me. You need to rest, as you’re injured and further movement could exacerbate your condition. Lie still.”

Roman grins up at him. “Very forceful, doctor. Go ahead, say something else.”

The tone he uses has Logan blushing slightly, though Virgil doesn’t know if it’s out of embarrassment, frustration, or something else.

“Hey, look! More of your friends!” Virgil and Logan turn to regard Patton, who’s standing at the threshold of the structure and gesturing outside. He grins and turns to look back outside, jumping and waving his arms. “Guys, guys! We’re over here!” Patton gives surprised cries as he dodges a few solar gun blasts and Virgil rushes over to him, pulling him inside and to the ground.

With his heart beginning to beat harder in his chest, he cocks his own solar gun and rises from his crouch to see over the lip of the opening, firing at the rapidly-approaching pirates. It’s one against six, and Virgil can feel anxiety clawing at his chest and squeezing his stomach as he dodges solar blasts while still trying to hit the ones firing at him.

Too bad he’s a terrible shot. He’s never even held a solar gun before today. He ducks back inside to reload, the onslaught continuing.

“Stop, stop! Hold your fire!”

Virgil loads a new cartridge into the gun and cocks it, getting ready to shoot up again and resume the fight, but a voice calling up the hill stops him.

“Hello?”

Declan.

Virgil peaks over the lip of the opening, glancing down the hill to see Declan’s flesh hand waving a makeshift white flag from behind a drop in the hill’s side. “Virg-o?” Declan pulls himself up onto the hill, grinning his usual smooth grin. Normally, it would calm Virgil’s nerves.

Now it just makes his blood burn.

“If it’s alright with the captain, I’d appreciate if I could have a short word with you.”

Virgil ducks back down, glancing at Roman and Logan with wide eyes. What was he supposed to do? What if this was a trap? What if they shot him as soon as he stood up?

“No tricks, just a little palaver.”

Roman scoffs. “He must be here to bargain for the map, that worthless piece of-“ He tries to sit up and groans, Logan putting a hand on his shoulder to push him back to laying down.

“Captain, I insist you lie still. I mean it.”

Virgil’s eyes widen slightly in understanding and he grins. “That means he doesn’t know the real map is on the ship…” He glances down at the gun in his hands, thinking, and looks back up at the two adults across from him. “I have a plan.”

Virgil walks down the short hill, Declan walking up to meet him halfway. Morph flits along behind Virgil, quickly catching up and letting out a happy little titter as he flies up to Declan, rubbing against his cheek. Declan smiles and pets the blob. “Ah, Morph. I was wondering where you went off to.” He sits down on a more elevated part of the hill and rubs at his robotic thigh, letting out a tired and pained sigh. “This leg’s been finicky since that game of tag we had, back at the galley.” He grins up at Virgil, and for the first time since they met Virgil can see the malice behind it. He grimaces.

Declan sighs.

“Look…. Whatever you heard back there, about you, I didn’t mean any of it. The men… they thought I’d gone soft. They would have gutted me and killed the three of you if they’d lost their trust in me. I didn’t want that.”

Virgil almost believed him. Almost.

Declan wraps his robotic arm around Virgil, pulling him close. He glances back towards where his men are in hiding, then at the teen beside him, lowering his voice. “Listen. If we play our cards right, we can both walk away with the treasure.” Virgil puts a hand to his chin, thinking it over, and Declan grins.

“Yeah?”

Declan laughs, clapping Virgil on the shoulder. “If you get me that map, then I promise, an even portion of the treasure is yours.” He straightens up and offers Virgil his hand, confident he’d tricked- no, convinced Virgil.

Virgil sighs and shakes his head, the smile slipping from his face. “You’re…. You’re really something, you know that?” Declan’s hand falls to his side and his shoulders droop slightly. “All that talk of greatness…. Light coming off my sails. What a joke.” Virgil laughs as he paces around Declan, the sound making his chest ache and pulling the grin from his face. Oh. “I mean, at least you taught me one thing. Stick to it, right? Well that’s just what I’m gonna do.” His tone grows more aggressive, angrier, and Declan’s eyes widen in slow understanding. No…. “I’m gonna make sure you never see one drabloon of my treasure.”

Declan feels rage swell in his chest, an old, burning feeling that he’s been clinging to since he lost his arm. “That treasure is owed to me!” He snarls.

“Well try to find it without my map!” Virgil shouts back, practically in Declan’s face. Declan growls low in his throat.

“You still don’t know how to pick your fights.” Virgil shoots him a scathing glare as the cyborg stands. “Now, you listen here. If I don’t have that map by dawn tomorrow, I’ll blast all of you to dust!” Morph flinches back at the rage dripping from Declan’s voice, his body, his words, cowering behind Virgil. Virgil stands resolute, not taking his eyes off the pirate. Declan turns to head down the hill, calling over his shoulder, “Come on Morph.” When the blob doesn’t flit to his side, his anger sparks again and he spins around, shouting, “Now!” Morph clings to Virgil, cowering behind him, and Declan sneers, starting the walk down the hillside.

“Fine.”

Taglist: @the5thcoy @dailysandersidesaudoodles @hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2 @tanyatoloni1334

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #treasure planet au

[mandivsman-blog]

So, I came to the end of a situationship about a month ago with a man I realized I didn’t know at all. We were seeing each other for about 3 months and I would consider it long distance. Now, he did the classic “love bomb” (telling me he loved me right away, selling me all type of extravagant dreams, calling and leaving messages multiple times a day) a love avoidant technique and towards the end I found out he was deeply troubled, didn’t think he was, and was probably not going to change. He actually turned me OFF at first. I found him clingy but was simultaneously intrigued because I thought he was successful, well traveled, and thought we were looking for the same things word for word. Now, I’m not excusing my part in this. He was not my usual type and at the first sign of trouble I should have left. He was 40 years old, hundreds of sexual partners, never lived with someone, moved all over the country, single for multiple years, never had a long term relationship (2+), never stayed in one place for very long, had no sense of normalcy or routine, was very emotional but lacked empathy for others, and I got a sense he thought people were disposable. And, through all of those things, he was still just being who he was. Not good, not bad. Just him.

Why did I hang around? Well, what is the #1 thing that makes us attracted to another person?

Whether THEY’RE attracted to US. Yes, that’s right, if they like you, that’s half the attraction right there. He was a Casanova right away. Spoke beautifully, like a poem. He supposedly noticed and loved things in about me that I love about myself. He was externally successful, intellegent, funny, clever. We connected deeply on a sexual level as well. It was easy to open up about things I wanted and rarely shared. We had similar goals about the future.

See, it’s easy for a man to give me attention. I glamour/alternative model, sex positive, and extremely open but they don’t know me. They don’t know my past or my fears. Men tell me things all day, everyday. It’s easy for me to simply overlook because it’s the same words over and over. A man can look 10/10, be wealthy and fit and I will feel no sense of attraction. I have to hear the right words.

Words are meaningful but they lose their value if the actions aren’t parallel. This is where it sticky because the words vs. actions is a perception and thus subjective. One person may feel like their words match their actions perfectly yet the other person feels like they are doing they exact opposite. Is there really any objective truth?

Patterns. If it weren’t for recognizing patterns in science we wouldn’t have centuries of information that’s saved millions of lives and responsible for almost every innovation we have. There’s truth in patterns. He told me multiple stories and I noticed patterns. But, what is the truth? Was it my history of being scared of men and not trusting him that made me notice these patterns? Did they matter? And who should I ask for answers?

I choose not to be in a relationship for a long time. I was in a multiple year, live-in, serious relationship for most of my twenties with the only person I ever loved. The split was, in laymen’s terms, because I didn’t want to move forward and take our relationship seriously enough. This still haunts me some days, some days I think it was a blessing. I felt like a kid most of that relationship but I still remember how freeing and how fufilling full trust and endless love and affection was.

He loves me. He would never hurt me. He cares if I have a headache or a bad day. He makes me a priority. He wants to make me happy. He protects me.

And, In turn, I did the same plus more.

That relationship had been outgrown, unfortunately, and there was nothing him or I could do to stop it. He was air headed and light. Surface level. I am intense, quirky, horny, intense, highly-intelligent, inquisitive, complex. I take up space. I crave learning, doing, seeing, questioning. He liked watching TV.

After our split, I had a rough several years. I needed time to heal and figure things out. This time was the first time I truly spent time alone instead of jumping back in a relationship or dating. This is the best thing that I have ever done.

When a person goes from relationship to relationship, fuck to fuck, person to person, they just wind up mirroring their current partners personality instead of cultivating their own. Chamaeleon like. You need consist, heart wrenching, gut churning time alone. A person needs time to let their heartbreak, disappointed heal to change the essence of their character. This is growth. Jumping from one person to another is a distraction. It chips away. Now, I’m not talking about taking interest in your partners interests. I actually love that part of relationships because I love learning from my partners. I’m talking about melding your life with theirs and basically becoming your partner. 

Anyway, I kept on trying to break it off with this person. He was saying beautiful words but I could never feel comfortable with him. He was had no schedule and his stories didn’t match up. I would bring up inconsistencies but he would shrug them off.

Doubt began to built.

When we began seeing each other he did tell me there was some overlapping but about a month in I decided I didn’t want to see someone with that kind of baggage and tried to break it off. He told me, “I have no one else.” Now, it was just “I have no one else.” It was paragraph after paragraph. Phone call after phone call cementing the fact that there was no one else and he wanted me, was pursuing me, and saw a future with me.

But, that wasn’t the case.

He was still boo loving and fucking that girl. I asked him again and he finally told me the truth. A 24 year old girl (he’s 40), with severe co-dependent issues. He told me her current boyfriend (they’re in an open relationship)was older than him and basically controlled her whole life and didn’t treat her well. I felt for that, no one deserves that but hearing that he was OK with entering the life of that person who was extremely sick, and fucking her changed the way I looked at him. If he wanted to help her without the benefit of sex, that would be one thing. I was devastated. I couldn’t understand how someone could tell me the things he had said to me and blantantly lie to me.

Still I tried to make things work because I felt like we could have a great future together...and I just couldn’t fucking let that go...

He told me he would break it off. I asked “in person?” And he said “My therapist and I will decide.” This puzzled me and hurt me. After this situation caused so much drama between us, why add more strife? Remember how he thought she deserved a break up person when I tell you how he disrespectfully ended things with me...

And, I just want to add, if things hadn’t moved lightening fast between us, I would not have felt this way. I’ve been through similar situations with men I’ve cared for and have never been in as much pain as that betrayal made me feel. When clearing out my phone of anything regarding him, I deleted over 20 voicemails from him.

He told me “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never met anybody like you and I’m scared I won’t again.”

Sounds like bullshit, I know, but everybody secretly wants to hear that from their partner. It felt so good. It felt like I found a friend and lover who had plenty of experience but out of all those women he picked me. We all want to believe that. We all play the fool sometimes.

Anyway, I was in rare form. Since the quarantine I had stopped taking my ADHD med bc of insurance issues which I really need for multiple things including mood, and focus, my mental health was declining, I was drinking a lot, I had little direction, and here this man comes along to swipe me off my feet. He had some extravagant baggage which, when I first heard, I was like “this is not my guy but fun for now”, but I grew to want to walk with him through his problems, grow with him, and nurture him. That’s who i am. The problem was, I couldn’t trust or forgive him. So, he wasn’t doing the actions needed to help restore trust. The second he hurt me and I started reacting, I could feel him start pulling away. He had multiple, heavy things going on and whether he wanted to build trust but couldn’t bc he was busy or he didn’t care to, I will never know.

I also was trying to connect with my absent father at the time which did not go well. I should have known better. Every time my father tries to reconnect with me, my life and psych gets flipped on it’s head because, he’s still the same man who abandoned my mother and I when I was a child. See, it would be different if he had done therapy or actually attempted to be a better human but he hasn’t. He just shows up periodically and says “forgive me.” And I’m not, “no, you selfish mother fucker, show me you’ve changed.” He can’t. He’s 50 years old and is who he is. He disturbs my life subconsciously and consciously. He is to me. I was having a this battle with my father and trying to make things work with my love interest...

But I couldn’t stop being angry with him. I couldn’t stop feeling stupid for trying to believe what he was trying me. I kept trying to break off the relationship like once a week. At the time, I really didn’t want to be with him. I felt disgusted with his character but breaking down the root of that action, I just wanted to manipulate him into comforting me.

How pathetic is that?

Such a hard pill to swallow for me. I didn’t have the tools to regulate my emotions and communicate what I needed. I didn’t have the balls to firmly let go of the relationship. I was miserable running in circles.

Now, this was the absolute wrong thing to do and definitely is emotional blackmail. I hated that I was doing it. It hurt me and weighed me down. The person I cared for was walking on eggshells. I was hurting the person I cared for and he was also hurting me.

When I would drink, I would have meltdowns. They weren’t funny or cute. They were hurtful and designed to cause pain. If we’re talking in self-help terms..every time I would feel triggered, my “pain body” or “shadow” would be stimulated and their main function is the cause damage and posing as a faux coping mechanism.

Painbody-“It is an accumulation of painful life experience that was not fully faced and accepted in the moment it arose. It leaves behind an energy form of emotional pain. It comes together with other energy forms from other instances, and so after some years you have a “painbody,” an energy entity consisting of old emotion.”

I remember painbody being described in Eckort Tolle’s “The Power of Now” as “A lizard eating it’s own tail.” A pain that causes you to hurt people and that also hurts you to hurt people. I hadn’t been triggered like this is years. My mind forgot how to protect itself in a healthy way. I was just doing the best I could.

I met his parents and brother in Denver. This meant a lot to me because, for me, I would never introduce my mother to someone I wasn’t sure about. To me, that’s unfair to my mother to constantly bring man after man over for him to meet.

At this point, communication is declining, he’s trying to do the books for several businesses, meet up with friends, travel, and work...yet is trying to build a connection with me? It wasn’t the right time. I needed to feel like the person who supposedly “loved” me actually cared about integrating me into their life. We had nothing planned to see each other, he always made plans last minute. This was another big reason I couldn’t feel comfortable with him. He expected me to be completely on his schedule. Every time he would tell me, 5-7 ahead of the time he was free and I’d have to completely change my schedule for him. I would have to change plans with friends, family. I’d have to move shifts around at work and lose money. Also, he used to call me in the middle of the night and I would wake up and answer. During his all night shifts sometimes he would sometimes call me multiple times. I was so discombobulated. I was trying to be there for him. I wanted to be with him.

Last time I saw him I flew to Seattle. It was going fine until i asked whether he was still talking to that young girl. He said he had. He also acted like she had a family emergency and I was some monster for being upset about him talking to her. At that moment, I knew it wasn’t over between them. He was also showing me something on his phone and I held it a little closer to my face and he snatched the phone out of my hand. Both situations he convinced me I was wrong and should believe him despite his sneaky, withdrawn behavior. I had so much anxiety. I drank the rest of the weekend to try and calm down which had the opposite affect.

After I came home, We barely spoke. I tried to break it off with him twice. He send me a picture of him crying. I was sick. I couldn’t feel better. It had been so long since a man made me feel so small, so insignificant. Everything he said and did contradicted each other. What was the truth?

I began to not tell me friends anything because I was so embarrassed that I still stuck around. I don’t know why but I believed he was good. I believe he cared for me. I believed we could make it.

I went to a therapy appointment and laid everything out in a brutal 2 hour session. I was transparent because I knew I couldn’t figure this out without complete honesty. I called him crying, telling him I missed him and wanted to make this work. At this point, he seemed nonchalant. I think he probably was already seeing the girl again at this point bc he was completely different. That week he was working and barely spoke to me. He answered me hours later. He cared nothing for me. He was tired of my reactions and thought he was absent of responsibility for my behavior.

This made me feel desperate. Desperate for an answer, desperate for a reason. Desperate for the truth. I felt the pull of abandonment on my chest. I called him, he wouldn’t answer. I called again, he wouldn’t answer. This bothered him. When I would speak to him he would act annoyed with me like I was bothering him. Remember though, this man would call me 5-7 times a day, leave multiple messages, send pictures and videos all day long, and a week before this, send a picture of his ass crying. I have NEVER had such a piece of emotional manipulation sent to me IN MY LIFE. And just like that, he snatched all that back. It meant nothing.

I reached out one more time. I spilled my heart out. I said we could start over again. I had meant what I said. He sounded reluctant the whole time but eventually agreed. I promised that I was working daily on forgiving him and working to feel safe in my own body as to not project on him. It didn’t feel right. After this conversation I felt uneasy. I really thought “this is my person and I’m gonna have cute little, smart babies with him”, but at this point he made it seem like it was a competition. I knew there was other women, possibly multiple, I would knew I would never be happy not being the queen. I wouldn’t be able to respect him or look up to him. I knew he had no sense of loyalty and yet I still wanted to make it work. Him not having loyalty perplexed me because his parents are good people his and been together for years and years.

My phone rings at 2:30, I thought he was attempting to make more contact with me (bc that was one of the things I had said would make me feel comfortable) but he sounded weird. I asked “Why did you call me?” And, I don’t really remember what he said but, it was along the lines of “this is the way it is and I don’t wanna deal with it. This is not for me.” He broke things off with me. Then, to add insult to injury, he added “The man you end up with is going to be the happiest man in the world.” Man, stfu. If you’re a man and you’re reading this, never fucking do that. It’s just so shitty and pretentious. This is a pattern of his. He did it to someone else with me. But he felt the other woman deserved in person and I deserved a 2 minute fuck you phone call at 2:30 am. That being said, my guess is he tried to break it off with her but a. It was never completely broke off bc he’s not capable of making a firm decision and B. She’s young and naive so it’s easier not to be held accountable and she’ll be less likely to enforce her needs c. She’ll let him fuck who he wants bc she’s nonmonagomous. D. It’s a trauma bond. E. They lived in the same state. It was just so fucking obvious and I tried to force myself to ignore it.

Anyway, I said goodbye.....and went right the fuck back to sleep. I am not kidding when I say, the weight had been lifted right then and there. Sure, I was mad I was disrespected, lied to, and maltreated but the limbo and that weird feeling in my tummy was torturing me. I spent a week boohooing. I liked him, I missed him but, all in all it wasn’t that deep. I didn’t love him, I was ATTACHED to him. I wouldn’t have been attached to him if he didn’t sell me a dream.

I had screenshots of some of grandiose things he’s said to me and honestly, I just had to laugh. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe what people are capable of.

But, I’m giving myself a break. Since quarantine I’ve been through some changes. After the quarantine started, my yoga studio closed which I went to 5 days a week. I was also meditating at least 5 days a week.I feel like I was really happy and grounded. The difference between my psych then and now is profound. When I lost my job I couldn’t afford my ADHD med this summer so I had to abruptly stop it (Stratera) which definitely left me kind of out of sorts. I wasn’t working, I was alone, I was worried about money, I moved, my (absent) father was trying to come back into my life all while trying to take care of anyone and everyone I could because that’s just what I do. Also, I have a pattern of Rocky starts in relationships. I try to be who I am from the beginning, work things out, and then have a great rest of the relationship without waiting until 2 years in for you to find out that I’m awful. I’ve had good and bads experiences with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I was stupid. I can’t even say I wont act stupid in another relationship again. I probably will because sometimes I suck and that’s okay.

To be continued and edited...