#I feel my mental state deteriorating day after day and it's always harder to do things during the day

[kyouka-supremacy]

Btw today is a month since this blog was shadowbanned 🥳🥳

[bedrockbones]

Quacknobros with your mimic!quackity and techno plots a way to keep quackity as a piglin hybrid and kidnaps him to be his runt (kinda like a continuation of your Persistent Hunting but also can be it's own thing)

I wish you would write a fic where... ///not accepting some context for this one: kind of a sequel to persistant hunting oneshot where quackity is still suffering from ptsd from schlatt so his instincts are a little haywire. spent so long mimicking schlatts hybrid traits out of stress, they still havent gone away anyway don't talk to me about my past and present tense mixups just go with it

The horns still hadn't gone away, even days later. Quackity was starting to wonder if they ever would.

One nice thing about Wilbur's shitty ravine is there were barely any reflective surfaces for Quackity to see himself in. He could almost pretend Schlatt's horns weren't curled around his head.

Almost.

They were pretty fucking heavy after all. And stress shifts always hurt.

The root of the horns throbbed with each step Quackity took. He could practically feel the weight of them dragging him down, slowing his steps. How Schlatt carried these things around and still had the posture he did? Quackity had no damn clue.

At this point, Quackity couldn't even tell if the stress was residuals from Schlatt or his current predicament confusing his body. Pogtopia wasn't exactly sunshine and daisies. What with Wilbur's deteriorating mental state, the whole fucking war boiling over.

Oh, yeah. And Technoblade. Technoblade that never approached but never left Quackity alone. Always lurking around the corner. Still doing his tasks but for some reason his tasks always happened to need him to be right fucking next to Quackity.

Like now. Quackity didn't need to turn around to know Technoblade was watching him. At least with the instincts of a goat hybrid, Quackity could feel that tickle on the back of his neck that came with all prey hybrid's instincts. The feeling of being watched. Stalked.

Hunted.

Though, Quackity didn't need prey instincts to know that. He still remembered quite clearly the speech Technoblade had given him all those months ago.

Which left him here. Trapped in a ravine filled with people that wanted Quackity dead for a variety of reasons.

Trapped with Technoblade.

"Tommy wants you."

Quackity very much does not squeak when Technoblade appears in front of him. Fucker was fast despite his size. Really not fair.

He swallowed, forcing himself to meet Technoblade's gaze. Those red eyes stared back at him, glittering with something Quackity couldn't name.

When the pig hybrid doesn't offer up any more information, Quackity is forced to speak.

"Um- okay. Where is he?" He's proud to say his voice didn't shake, but the horns on his head were throbbing. A deep ache was pulsing through them in time with his racing heart.

"In the armory." With a lazy hand, Technoblade gestured down the hall behind him.

But he doesn't move. Technoblade's large form still took up the bulk of the passageway, blocking Quackity's route. His gaze was focused on Quackity's horns. They throbbed even harder in response.

Fuck.

[irregardlessly-tish]

Hi, I just want to rant about something personal…

So, when I was two years old I met at kindergarten the person who would be my best friend through all my school years and a couple years after we both graduated… She went to college, I went to art school which then I dropped out but we still messaged each other almost every day. Near the end of her last year she wouldn't message me too much, it was mostly me messaging first, I understood she was busy with exams and sometimes I'd tell her stuff such as "Hey, if my messages bother you just let me know/you don't need to reply right away, it's fine" I'd get insecure, feel like I was bothering her and she would reassure me and say things like "Don't worry, I'll always have time for you!" until one day, she just stopped replying, she ghosted me for around two years or maybe a little more…

I felt pretty fucking bad during that time period, she was my only irl friend, I never had many friends and after ending highschool and my mental health deteriorated it was even harder to make new friends and maintain the ones I had. I tried to contact her but she just didn't reply and I felt I was making it worse, felt that maybe I was just too fucking much or too fucking annoying or whatever that she didn't even wanted to tell it to my face and ghosting me was the best option. Still, it hurt me a lot that she would say that she'd almost have time for me and that I wasn't annoying her, like why would she lie like that and make me think that everything was fine? I spent so much time beating myself up for fucking up our friend ship, I felt so useless, so guilty for doing something that I didn't even realize was so bad that she had no other choise but to ghost me.

And then one day she messages me here, on tumblr even tho she had an account she never used. She said she'd have texted me but she didn't have my number (it was still the same number I had always had, I didn't change it in all those years), I was a bit hesitant but if she wanted to reconnect, then why not? Maybe I'd have closure or something, I don't know. We started talking a bit, at first she would talk like nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened until I asked her why she had stopped talking to me. She gave me basically a "It's not you, it's me" kind of response. She said that she wasn't mentally in a right place and had stopped messaging me and her friend from college (mind you, she hadn't blocked me on social media so I saw she was haging out with ex highschool classmates, classmates who, by the way, bullied me and even tried to spread rumors about me, stuff like me being secretly a lesbian and trying to seduce her to get her to stop being my friend. So, she wasn't in the right mental state to hang out with me and another friend, but she was in the right state to hang out with those other friends of hers). Still, I didn't question it, I didn't know what she was going on internally so I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. I told her, though, how I had felt, how I thought I had done something wrong and that I felt guilty for a long time, blaming myself for whatever had happened that made her stop talking to me. She said she was sorry, it was just a moment in her life where she wanted to focus on her career but that she had missed me a lot and wanted to be friends again. There were many other things I wanted to say, a part of me wanted to make her feel as bad as I had felt, tell her that she knew I wasn't mentally in a right place either and she chose to ignore me, making me feel worse than I was already feeling, tell her about me cutting and trying to kill myself, about me overdosing and being in a coma for two weeks, I wanted to make her feel guilty… But I didn't, I didn't tell her how bad for two years had been for me because I knew it wasn't fair. I was very resentful, but thought that this was a chanse to left all those bad feelings behind and maybe continue our friendship were we had left it.

We hung out one afternoon, a couple of days after her messaging me asking for my number, we talked some more about life (I never went in too deep about how bad I had been), at the end she hugged me tight and said she was so happy to see me again, telling me once more how much she had missed me. This was February 2022. That was the last time I saw her or ever heard from her. She never messaged me back after that. Again, the feelings of guilt, the sensation of doing something wrong that I didn't even know what was came back, I wanted to hurt myself, feeling like I was a piece of shit who didn't even deserve love, deserve to have friends because I was so stupidly useless I didn't even know how to have friends. Months passed and I began to think different, I wasn't the one to blame for "our friendship not working", she was the one who wasn't putting any effort into it. She was the one saying she missed me while still hanging out with people who bullied me and talked shit about me in front of her.

A couple of days ago, I saw her dad at the park, we were both walking our dogs. I didn't thought he would even recognize me since we hadn't seen each other since I was a highschooler but he did and he greeted me. We talked for a bit, just asking how everything was, nothing too deep. The next day, she messaged me again, this time on instagram. I didn't open the message, I've decided, even if she comes back crawling, saying again she misses me or whatever, I don't want to be her friend, even if she promises she won't disappear on me again, at this point I don't care, I can't have someone so unreliable in my life, my mental health is already bad as it is... so today I decided to block her on everything, I just don't care any more.

That's all, I just wanted to get it out of my chest...

[londonivfcentre2]

How pollution is causing a male fertility crisis

Sperm quality appears to be declining around the world but is a little discussed cause of infertility. Now scientists are narrowing in on what might be behind the problem.

“We can sort you out. No problem. We can help you,” the doctor told Jennifer Hannington. Then he turned to her husband, Ciaran, and said: “But there’s not much we can do for you.”

The couple, who live in Yorkshire, England, had been trying for a baby for two years. They knew it could be difficult for them to conceive as Jennifer has polycystic ovarian syndrome, a condition that can affect fertility. What they had not expected was that there were problems on Ciaran’s side, too. Tests revealed issues including a low sperm count and low motility (movement) of sperm. Worse, these issues were thought to be harder to treat than Jennifer’s – perhaps even impossible.

Hannington still remembers his reaction: “Shock. Grief. I was in complete denial. I thought the doctors had got it wrong.” He had always known he wanted to be a dad. “I felt like I’d let my wife down.”

Over the years, his mental health deteriorated. He began to spend more time alone, staying in bed and turning to alcohol for comfort. Then the panic attacks set in.

“I hit crisis point,” he says. “It was a deep, dark place.”

Male infertility contributes to approximately half of all cases of infertility and affects 7% of the male population. However, it is much less discussed than female infertility, partly due to the social and cultural taboos surrounding it. For the majority of men with fertility problems, the cause remains unexplained – and stigma means many are suffering in silence.

Research suggests the problem may be growing. Factors including pollution have been shown to affect men’s fertility, and specifically, sperm quality – with potentially huge consequences for individuals, and entire societies.

A hidden fertility crisis?

The global population has risen dramatically over the past century. Just 70 years ago – within a human lifetime – there were only 2.5 billion people on Earth. In 2022, the global population hit eight billion. However, the rate of population growth has slowed, mainly due to social and economic factors.

Birth rates worldwide are hitting record low levels. Over 50% of the world’s population live in countries with a fertility rate below two children per woman – resulting in populations that without migration will gradually contract. The reasons for this decline in birth rates include positive developments, such as women’s greater financial independence and control over their reproductive health. On the other hand, in countries with low fertility rates, many couples would like to have more children than they do, research shows, but they may hold off due to social and economic reasons, such as a lack of support for families.

There is mounting evidence that pollution may be at least partly behind declining sperm quality and sperm counts (Credit: Yuichi Yamazaki/AFP/Getty Images)

Exercise and a healthier diet may be a good start, since they have been linked to improved sperm quality. Blanchard recommends choosing organic food and plastic products free of BPA (Bisphenol A), a chemical associated with male and female fertility problems. “There are small things that you can do,” she says.

And, says Hannington, don’t suffer in silence.

After five years of treatment and three rounds of ICSI (Intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection), an IVF technique in which a single sperm is injected into the centre of an egg, he and his wife had two children. For people who have to pay for fertility treatments themselves, such a procedure may however not be affordable. In the US, a single round of IVF can cost upwards of $30,000 (£24,442) and insurance coverage for IVF can depend on the state you live in and who your employer is. And Hannington says he still feels the mental toll of his ordeal.

“I’m grateful for my children every day, but you just don’t forget,” he says. “It will always be part of me.”

To know more: https://www.londonivfcentre.com/fertility/how-pollution-is-causing-a-male-fertility-crisis

[ericinprogress]

This might be considered my version of, "Draw it again." As stated in the WIP posting of this, I was not entirely happy with the statue that was sitting on right of the bench. I originally completed this in 2013, but decided to give it a go at replacing that statue. In the process of doing that I over-hauled the entire painting to closer match my current skill-level as well. I also kept the original color scheme I started with back in 2013, instead of the blue hues I ended up completing it with the first time. I can now say I finally feel like it's complete! Finally, I included a link to the time-lapse video of the re-working of this painting.

Time-lapse video

Original 2013 Version Alternate 2013 Version

Song that inspired: Thrice - Circles _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Seemed like a confession was starting over. A clean slate to clear my cluttered mind. Round after round of apologies and I don’t feel any different. It makes me wonder if being transparent was really worth it. Almost feels like I’m dragging my feet towards that crucial step forward, but a step in any direction would be better than where I am today.

If it’s another day wasted, I can always sleep it off. Although I sometimes feel motionless in my dreams, trapped in snapshots from sour moments in time I’ll never be able to fix. They are like fragile mental pictures too scrambled anyway when I try to focus. But I think if I could just let them deteriorate this time I could leave this place in my head. And in the morning I might be in a capacity to sort it all out if it’s not still a fog in my mind.

And If it’s another year wasted, I think I’m beginning to feel weary and uninterested. But I know looking back again gets me nowhere. If I’m still waiting eagerly for you to come around, It’s probably because I’m tired of starting over.

I thought you should know that regaining control was something implied. Those endless debates with myself about whom I need to be have to come to a conclusion. Let’s see what happens when I apply a little more destruction. Let’s just look the other way when things aren’t going my way. But If I want to find comfort I have to let go of the urge to say, “Let’s burn it down.” So you keep asking if I remember when. Well shit, isn’t a fond memory of being young a nostalgic and thoughtless point? When I feel the need to constantly make up for the shortcomings and compromising of character, I find If I can’t look past the mistakes nothing is harder than beginning to pick up the pieces Hey God, if you’re listening I need moment, But I’m scared of how I reflect when the dust settles. I think I’m finally running out of distractions. I’m feeling frantic trying to solve the puzzles myself. I don’t like not knowing where to turn when the answers don’t come to me on their own. So I guess I need your help. Maybe I just need to know that you are real.

[i-cant-sing]

An Accident

Yeah... you may have seen this before, earlier this week when I accidentally posted it. Anyways, this is a part 2 of the Todoroki clan being obsessed with reader's hair. So, um enjoy.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Todoroki Clan:

Rei is obsessed with reader’s hair.

She’s taken such good care of it, and after years of hard work, your hair now reaches just around your butt. Your hair is healthy, thick, luscious, and cut into a smooth, U shape; of course all trims are done by Rei herself because she doesn't even trust professionals. And even though you’ve asked Rei on multiple occasions to cut it short, at least up to the middle of your back, she just wouldn’t, always saying that you’re being unreasonable. But you’re not; you’ve given her multiple valid reasons.

For example, Rei and Fuyumi do your hair themselves. And initially, they would let you choose whatever hairstyle you wanted, but now they pick one for you, saying they know which one will suit your outfit of the day better. Rei likes to do double buns, or ponytails tied with ribbons or just one high pony with a pretty big bow on the top of your head. Fuyumi on the other hand makes super intricate hairstyles, and while they look pretty, only you know how much pain your scalp is in. Fuyumi does your hair as if you’re her doll, yanking and twisting hard, saying that she needs to be this rough to achieve the distinctive braid patterns. Thankfully, Rei usually does your hair most of the time.

One of the main reasons you've begged Rei to let you cut your hair short is how much time she (and you) would safe. Since your hair is so long, it takes a lot of time for Rei to put in hair masks, serums, oils, etc. It takes even longer to wash and dry them out, and then style them as well. But she smiled oh so kindly, and told you that she doesn't mind. She looks forward to taking care of your hair, forcing you to sit between her legs for hours as she applies some expensive magic growth oil, ignoring how you didn't like this.

And even if your hair is curly naturally, like even 4C curly hair, Rei will have it straight as a stick in no time (don't bother telling her that you like it natural). But don't worry, its still quite voluminous.

Of course, Rei washes your hair herself, telling you that you’re simply not capable enough to manage it. (At least she lets you wash your body yourself.) And due to your hair being so long, it takes time to not only wash it, but also dry it. Rei will detangle using a wide tooth comb, starting from the bottom and working her way up. Then she’ll dry it with her cold breath, and if required, call Enji to dry your hair with his heat. You like it when Enji dries your hair, because he does it quickly and your hair becomes far smoother.

And its not just Rei and Fuyumi that are obsessed with your hair, the boys are just as fond of it as well. Enji likes to card his fingers through your hair while he’s working on some papers or listening to news, his warm hands always putting you to sleep in his lap. Its an adorable sight, gives him a sense of peace.

Shotou also likes to run his hands through your long hair, especially after a stressful day. The feeling of his fingers through your smooth, long locks, it calms him. And if he’s feeling extra stressed, then he might braid your hair loosely as well. He always wears a scrunchie on his wrist for you.

You wouldn't ever admit it, but you enjoy it when Natsuo played with your hair. Its like he can sense when you're having a headache. He'll have you sit on the floor while he takes a seat on your bed, and then his fingers will do their magic. He knows exactly where to put pressure on your scalp, and exactly how much force to use. His massages always relieve your migraines, and he always massages with expertise to ensure their is proper blood flow in your scalp.

While you are more than happy to let Natsuo touch your hair, you hate it when Dabi's around. If you didn't know better, you'd think he wants to rip your scalp off. He knows how much it annoys you, always pulling at your ponytails, tugging at your braids, even yanking it a few times when you ignore him. And you've complained to your family, but all of them say that "oh he's just playing around." Or "no, he just misses you. He's only teasing." And when you ask Dabi to stop it, he'll just smile and say "big brother privileges."

He's insufferable.

Everyone gets to play with your hair, but God forbid if you do. Oh no, apparently you'd "destroy it", as if you're not capable of managing your own hair. You're not allowed to open your ponytails because, quoting Rei, "you're yanking your hair. You're going to rip your follicles- baby, stop. Just let me do it." But you know that she does that because she wants to brush your hair with the soft, bristle brush before you go to bed. And somedays, Rei doesn't tie your hair in a bun or something, letting your hair fall, and it gets in your way, and even then you're still not allowed to put it up because "oh honey, your hair needs to breathe too. If you keep it in a pony, the band will leave a mark in it." Honestly, everyone finds it adorable when you're dressed in your little, fluffy skirt paired with a cozy oversized sweater, all mad and pouting, trying to blow the hair strands blocking your field of vision. Like a little baby.

While Rei looks at your hair and sees years of her hards work and patience, all you see is losing control over your own life. And you are. They decide everything for you, from the clothes you wear, the food you eat, and even things you should like and dislike. They choose when you should go out, what you should watch, when its time for bed. They disregard your opinions and feelings, and if you show that you're frustrated, then its means that you're just throwing a "tantrum", and you need to be put to bed like some cranky child. You've told them that they're too overbearing, but they always say that they just love you.

What kind of love is controlling?

They're so lost in their delusions, that they don't even see the deteriorating effects it has on you mentally.

Actually, one person did see them. Dabi.

He saw how much everything was overwhelming you, how you were near tears when they talked over you, made choices for you.

He felt a bit bad for you, just a tad. Mostly, he felt there was another opportunity to mess with you.

When Dabi came to bother you one night, tugging at your hair again, this time a bit harder than usual, he saw you were ready to cry. You didn't even bother saying anything to him anymore, just kept quiet and did your best not to cry. Of course, now he ridiculed you. Called you a little crybaby and used that annoying patronising tone with you. And just as he was about to leave, he said "if your hair bothers you so much, why don't you just cut it, you big baby?"

As if something had finally snapped in you, you let his words echo. Why don't I cut it? What's stopping me?

Was it because you had learned to just give in?

You didn't even realise you had walked to your bathroom until you were holding a pair of scissors. Which surprised you, because you weren't allowed to use scissors unsupervised. It was almost as if a sign from the universe motivating you to do it, and definitely not Dabi who left them on the sink.

Holding the pair of scissors in one hand and a chunk of your hair in the other, you hesitate for a second and wonder what will Rei do. But before you could stop yourself, you cut.

I'll cross that bridge when it comes.

You start low, maybe 2 inches above your hips. It looks okay, but maybe you could cut a little more. And a little more. And a little more. Before you know it, your hair is around shoulder length, in an uneven, chunky bob. Its not perfect, but somehow you feel much better. Like you’ve finally gotten some control back. Wiping your tears away, you ruffle your hair a bit, the cool air on your neck adding to the feeling of freedom. You feel normal, happier, peaceful. Things you haven't felt in years. And all because you had 3 am meltdown.

After you cleaned up the bathroom, you went back to bed, anxious how everyone will react in the morning. Maybe they won't care. You thought. Its only hair. My hair.

Everyone was waiting for you at breakfast the next morning, and to everyone’s surprise, Dabi had joined them as well. Rei was cooking up some eggs, while the kids chatted. Enji was suspicious of the mischievous glint in Dabi’s eyes, and it was filling him with unease. Just as he was about to question him, you walked in.

Everyone went silent.

Then Fuyumi let out an audible gasp, while Dabi chuckled darkly. Natsuo, Shotou and Enji looked at you with their mouths agape.

“Good morning.”you greeted them.

Rei, who was facing away from you, finally turned towards you. “Good mo-”Rei’s breath hitched, eyes blown wide, as the plate of bacon fell from her hands.

Its funny how everyone in the kitchen, including you, had the same thought at that moment.

What the fuck?

Taking a deep breath, you moved to sit in your usual spot between Fuyumi and Rei, but Shotou suddenly pulled you back and pushed you into the seat beside him. He knows his mother is in a better state mentally, but something tells him not to risk it. Fuyumi snapped next, quickly getting up and cleaning the mess on the floor while Enji pulled Rei, who was still staring at you in disbelief, to sit beside him. You remained indifferent to everyone’s stares, quietly eating your food. As soon as you were done, Shotou got up and quickly pulled you out of the room, Dabi following close behind.

They sat in your room as Shotou looked at your hair with worry. “Looking nice, doll.”Dabi chuckled as he plopped down on your bed beside you. “Thanks.” you mumbled. “Y/n how did- why did you- why did you cut your hair?” Shotou asked, still looking at your choppy hair. “Do you not like it?” you asked. “N-no I do. But what will mom say-” “Shotou, its my hair.” you snapped. “Yeah, Shotou.” Dabi mocked. Fuyumi and Natsuo soon joined you guys, worrisome looks on their faces. “Why did you cut it? Oh my god, do you even know how much trouble you’re in?” Fuyumi was freaking out. “Its my hair.” you rolled your eyes. They ignored you. “Okay, okay. Shotou why don't you stick around with Y/n for a couple of days? Fuyumi and dad will try to keep mom away from her.” Before Fuyumi could nod, you stood up. “No.”

Natsuo looked at you confused. “what do you mean “no”?”

“I mean no. I don't need Shotou to babysit me. I can handle myself.” Fuyumi walked towards you, reaching her hands for you but you backed away, “Y/n, sweetie-” You cut her off ,“Stop treating me like a child.”

Shotou spoke this time, “Its for your protection-” “Protection from who? Our mother? Why?”your words dared them to say the truth. To agree that Rei was unstable. They didn't say anything.

A few days had passed by and things were returning to normal. Almost normal. Rei still had this thousand yard stare when she looked at you, but she never said anything. Cutting your hair was the best decision you had made, because not is it only easy to manage, but it also got the family off your back. Rei doesn't wash your hair anymore(although you think she's just not over the shock), Fuyumi doesn't need to do your hair, they dry faster, and all of your brothers (including Dabi) doesn't mess around with them anymore. Enji was the first to adjust to your new cut, he even complimented you one day.

Did you feel guilty because you know how attached Rei was to your hair? A bit, but then realised that you needed this. You need some control over your life, and if this is how they react to your new cut, then maybe you could start taking back reigns over other aspects of your life as well.

You thought that maybe Rei had finally gotten over it a week later, when you were laying in the bathtub, enjoying the hot bath. When you heard her walk in, you were a bit startled. Why was she here- is she finally over it? "Um- hey." She smiled at you. "Why are you here?" She took the bath stool and sat behind the tub. "You know why." She replied and started rolling her sleeves up. Is she here to wash my hair? "Oh, are you here to wash my hair? I don't need help with that anymore now that they're short." Rei smiled again, this one looking forced, before dipping her hand in the tub. "No, silly." And with that, Rei froze the entire the tub in 2 seconds. The ice trapped your limbs, and reached up to your clavicle. The sudden change from hot to cold had you jolt, but you couldn't move due to the frozen ice. "Mom-!" You heard the buzzing sound of a trimmer and then felt Rei entangle her fingers in your hair to yank your head back. "I'm here to complete your haircut." You tried moving your head but her grip on your scalp was unrelenting. She started trimming the right side of your head, moving it slowly as to get every single hair. "Honestly, you should've come to me. I do agree that it'd be a good idea to start again." Tears fell from your eyes, your teeth chattered and you could feel your heart beat slow down as the cold seeped into your bones. "M-mom, I'm col-d. P-please s-stop..." Rei was done with one half of your head. "You know, I read somewhere that your grows thicker if you cut it. I'm sure that after I've shaved your head, your hair will grow even fuller. I've already gotten some new oils and hair masks! Maybe we could do them together." You couldn't hear anything besides the slowing of your own heart beating. Your breath had started to become shallow, you couldn't think about anything except for how painful ice could be. Your lips were turning blue, eyes were getting clouded with black spots, all sensation from your body was losing. Just before you lost consciousness, you heard the bathroom door open and a panicked yell.

You felt warm.

When you came to, your entire body felt warm and weighted, probably due to the heavy blanket spread on you.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself in a dimly lit room. It was...your parents room. Why am I here? You turned your head to look around but your eyes stopped at the large figure sitting on a chair next to your bed.

"Dad?"

The figure's head snapped towards yours. "You're awake." He paused. "How- how are you feeling?" You moved the blanket off you, your body felt dense and ached. "Warm and...sore. What happened? Why am I in your bedroom?" Enji shifted in his seat. "I think its best if you stay here from now on, so that... your mother and I can look after you." Your eyes widened. "What? Why?" You moved to sit up but then a pain shot through your head. "Ah shit." You hissed in pain as you went to massage your temples but your hands halted at the feeling of your hair... or lack there of. You tried to run a finger through your choppy bob cut, but all you felt was your shaved head. Your eyes met Enji's, looking at him in disbelief as you recalled the events that had led up to this. "Darling-" You jumped off the bed and ran towards the vanity mirror, praying that this is just a nightmare. But as you looked at your reflection, you realised that this was the terrifying reality you were living in.

Tears dripped from your eyes as you took in your appearance. Trimmed- no, shaved pink hair. You couldn't see a single bit of hair above the roots, only a baby pink scalp. She had not only trimmed your hair first but then also proceeded to shave your scalp off. Your head looked like it had peach fuzz.

You couldn't bring yourself to look away, not even when Enji placed a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n-" He didn't even what to say. He was still in shock from what would've happened if Fuyumi hadn't yelled for him when Rei was-

Enji shook his head. Now's not the time. You're here and you're fine. You're fine. Enji pulled you towards him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. "You're fine." He repeated, more to himself than to you. "Why- why would she do this?" Your voice was muffled by his chest but he understood. He understood your pain and it tore him apart that he still wouldn't be able to help you.

Enji honestly didn't know what to tell you. He didn't know what words would bring you comfort. "It... it was an accident." His chest rumbled as he spoke. You pushed yourself away from him as you looked at him perplexed.

"What?" Your eyebrows raised, nostrils flared and blood rushed to your face. You were going to blow up.

"An accident? Is that what you said? Oh okay. Was it an accident when she froze the fucking tub? Did the trimmer accidentally fall from her hands to my head?! Oh and did she accidentally pull the razor over my head?!" Angry tears fell from your eyes but you were far too enraged to care.

Enji opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Turning around you saw her.

Rei was standing there with a tray of food and water. Her face turned to shock before turning to happiness. She set the tray on a nearby table before she rushed towards you, her hands reaching for your face.

"Angel, you're awake-" you pushed her hands away roughly as you backed away from her.

"Dont you dare touch me."

The couple, they had never heard your voice such hostility. It wasn't like you. Rei shook her head as she tried to reach for you again, taking another step in your direction. But you smacked her hands away again. "I said don't touch me!" Your yelling had got your siblings to rush in the room, wanting to see what the commotion was about.

Rei's eyes shifted from you to Enji, looking at him for help, before they returned back to you. She took a deep breath before speaking. "Y/n, darling. What's wrong?" You scoffed at her soft tone that tried to quell the storm of negative emotions bubbling inside you. "What's wrong? What's wrong? I don't know, you tell me, Rei. Why the fuck am I bald?!" Your head was pounding with rage, raw unbridled anger.

When Rei didn't say anything, Fuyumi stepped forward to help her out. "Y/n its-"

"Shut up."

Fuyumi's- everyone's eyes widened. Of everyone, you never even rose your voice at your favourite sibling. But to hear your voice turn so cold towards her, it shocked everyone. "Y-Y/n-" she tried again but you cut her off. "I said shut up. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Rei and she'll answer for herself."

Enji placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back slightly. "Have some respect. She's your mother-" You yanked your shoulder away from his grip. "No, she's not!" You inhaled deeply, trying to stabilise your voice. "No, she's not. You're not my dad. I'm not a part of this family. And I'm so sick of playing this game."

Dabi's eyes narrowed. "Stop being an ungrateful brat. You've been given all the luxuries one could only imagine, spoiled to no end-" You laughed. "Did I ask for anything?" "You never had t-" "And all these luxuries that you're talking about, I didn't get them for free. I had to give up a lot. No, wait-" you laughed again, tears blurring your vision. "I didn't give up anything. You all took it. Yeah, all of you snatched everything away from me. My family, my friends, my privacy, my sanity, everything. And you-" you moved towards Rei, pointing a finger at her. "You have been the most greedy one of them all."

Rei's jaw fell open, as she shook her head. "No-" You shook your head.

"Yes! I gave you everything. I let you dress me up in those god awful clothes, feed me whatever you wanted, stick to your side like glue because you don't like it when I was out of your sight for a more than a few minutes. For fucks sake, I didn't even go to college this year because you weren't ready to see me become an adult!" You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. "I played into your sick little fantasy. I let you treat me like a child, talk to me like I'm some helpless baby. I let you touch me even though it disgusted me to no end. I never even complained when you gave me ice burns because I was throwing a tantrum." You looked at the rest of your family, and they were shocked to hear that last bit. You smiled cruelly at them. "Yeah, you didn't know that did you?"

Rei was crying herself by now, as she reached out for you once again but you moved away. "I let you have everything. All I wanted was this little bit of freedom, for my own sanity. But you couldn't stomach that could you?" Your head hung low, your tears hitting the floor.

"Why do you have to be so selfish?"

Your voice held so much pain and defeat. Rei couldn't help but engulf you in her arms, wrapping herself around you tightly before you could even protest. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She cried out. "I- I promise I'll fix this! Yes. I-I've already gotten you some new hair oils! They say that they'll help you grow 6 inches in a month! Oh and Natsuo also brought some stuff for hair growth! Some vitamins and- Natsuo whats that spray called? Minoxy? Mi-minoxidil! Yes! He said that'll help you grow your hair in no time! Doesn't that sound nice? You'll have long hair like before!" Rei pushed back to look at you. You couldn't believe it.

"Are you- are you really that delusional?" Your voice was so soft, almost like you would break any moment now. "Are you so blind to see what you're doing to me?" Your eyes held so much pain and confusion. "Sweetie, don't worry- mommy will take such good care-" You pushed Rei away from you, your anger rolling back in full speed. "YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!" You shrieked. "Y/n-" Shotou tried to interject. "I'm not a part of your fucking family."

Enji stepped towards you. "Calm down."

You looked at him. "You said that what happened was an accident. What will you do if another one happens? And you're not around this time to save me? Hmm? What will you do? Continue playing house with my dead body?!"

Rei's sobs shook her body. "Shut up. Think before you say stupid shit like that." Dabi spoke this time, moving to stand between you and his mother. "Or what? You're going to hurt me? More the reason why all of you, but especially you-" you pointed at Rei "deserve to be in that nuthouse-!"

You were on the floor before you could even process what had happened. Had you- had you fallen? But when the searing pain of the burn on your cheek came alive and you looked at his hand that had erupted in blue flames, you realised what had happened.

Dabi slapped you.

"Y/n!"

Your cheek felt like someone had placed a hot iron on it, the sting spreading to your entire cheek, but you were far too shocked to care about the pain.

Dabi slapped me.

Shotou, Natsuo and Fuyumi quickly rushed to your side, picking you up and out of the room, while Dabi stood there in stunned as his own hand throbbed. The image of his handprint branded on your scared face wasn't going to leave his mind anytime soon.

Enji hesitated, looking at his wife and son in disbelief, before leaving the room to look for you.

Rei walked towards Dabi and smacked his arm. "What did you do?!" She yelled at him. He opened his mouth to explain but nothing came out.

"She's your little sister, Touya! W-why would you do that?!" Rei scolded him.

He hurt you. Like Enji hurt Rei.

He hurt you.

Rei sighed before closing her eyes and engulfing Dabi in her arms. "Its okay. Its not your fault." She rubbed his back soothingly. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

Dabi wrapped his arms around his mother, burying his face in her neck, before nodding.

"Yes. It was an accident."

So... how was it?

[stellocchia]

This is part 4 of the Comprehensive Analysis of c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship during the Exile Arc

Part 1 -  Part 2 -  Part 3

We’re here once more just to suffer... though be fair I did decide to do this to myself, so I can’t really complain there...

As always under the cut we will be exclusively be talking about the characters unless stated otherwise and we will be talking about some serious topics, so keep that in mind

We’re starting this off with the infamous Beach Party stream: Tommy Is Left ALONE at his Exile Party with Dream

Now, quick introduction to this vod, since we find out about some details later on: no-one, aside from Dream, shows up because Dream destroyed the invitations and also Ghostbur won’t be around any longer because Dream sent him away (knowing fully well that that could have killed him since he already heard directly from Ghostbur that rain melted him). 

Basically at this point Dream is taking a step further into the manipulation process by not only making everyone else believe that Tommy didn’t want to see them but by also physically ensure they’d believe that. Also Tommy doesn’t start this one drowning either (perhaps because he was in high spirits the day prior?)

*creeper blows up* “Shit shit shit shit (...) I’m stupid I’m stupid I deserve that I deserve that. No no no no I didn’t I didn’t, today is gonna be a good day, today is gonna be a big day” (first response to anything negative has become taking on the blame, which we see later on with the Community House situation)

“Will Tubbo be there? Maybe! Myabe he will! Maybe he will!” (Tommy still very much missing his best friend)

“He [Tubbo] did boot me out... no no! you know what? I’m in the mood to reconcile!” (a big trait of Tommy’s has always been his loyalty to people, no matter how much they hurt him)

“It was definitely 8 pm GMT, 8 pm G-” *Dream joins the game* *Tommy pauses for a few moments on the Nether bridge completely still and then turns back* (I want to point out that the reaction any time Dream joined was one of absolute fear, for good reasons of course)

One thing that I’ve noticed is that Dream rarely comes from the Nether when visiting Tommy, opting instead for the objectively longer route through the water, which honestly seems to reinforce something he said early on, which was basically that even with the longer route it doesn’t take much effort to visit, and yet Dream is the only one willing to make that effort.

“Hello!” “H-hello?” “Hi!” “Hi ho-” “Where is everyone else?” “Oh... I don’t- I don’t know...” “I’m running a little late, I’m sorry” 

Considering that we know that Dream was in fact the one who sabotaged the invites, therefore meaning he knew fully well that nobody would be there, does the fact that he came late seem like he really wanted Tommy to stew in his own loneliness for a while to anyone else? You know, to properly break his spirit. Also Tommy immediately after this goes to take off his armour (Tommy Slippers included) and weapons, but this is the one time Dream lets him keep it (which, once again, he’ll use as a point against him later on). 

“Wilbur sent out the invites, didn’t he?” “Yeah, yeah no he sent them to everybody. He actually told Tubbo to his- like, he told him, he didn’t even need to give him an invite” “Really?!” “Yeah” (just want to point out that this is in fact not gaslighting, as some people seemed to think at the time, but it is still manipulation)

“I’m sure they said they’d be here by the day-” *watching the sun go down* “Time...” “I- I thought I was late so I’m surprised people aren’t here, but...” (turns out Dream was around 15 minutes late supposedly)

Tommy at this point takes out the cake, but he doesn’t eat any. I do think this is a good time to point out that the further we are into the exile the less we actually see Tommy eating (sometimes he straight up throws away any food he has in the inventory). He also sleeps less and less (or, at least, rests less, after all sleeping doesn’t necessarily mean being well rested afterwards) which we can deduce both from his comments on the subject and his rapidly deteriorating state. 

“Dream, no-one’s here” “I don’t know why... guess I’m most surprised Tubbo isn’t ‘cause he said he was gonna be, but-” (once again harping on to the retoric that Tubbo specifically willingly abandoned Tommy)

“I figured, I mean I figured you’d probably care the least if I was here so I just- I didn’t mind being a little bit late because everyone else would be here, but...” (once again the idea here is: “even if I was late I still came, no-one else did”)

“No-one cares about me anymore!” “That’s not true...” “No-one cares about me!” *Tommy takes his armour off again* “Tommy...” “No-one cares- no-one cares about me!” *Tommy destroys the rest of the cake* “No no no *sigh*” “No-one cares, do they? No-one showed up to my party... and it was the one thing, THE ONE THING they had to do for me after exiling me and fucking me over and not one of them came with me. And... none of them care about me anymore... ‘cause I’m not in L’manburg anymore, ‘cause I’m not with- ‘cause I’m not the vice-president”

Okay, that was a long quote, but 2 things I want to point out here: Tommy had about half of his health here, he refused to eat, take of his armour and marched towards the Nether, which is again him acting with no regard for his own self-preservation. And also there is a bit of Wilbur retoric sprinkled in there, with the whole “people only care about you when you have power” mentality. That’s exactly what Wilbur tried to convince him of in the Pogtopia era and it looks like he’s seeing a confirmation of this through the party. 

“If no-one is gonna put in any effort to come and see me, than I’ll make the effort harder to come and see me then, alright?” 

At this point Tommy has borrowed Dream’s netherite pickaxe and he proceeds to destroy a chunk of the bridge he’s made in the Nether, swapping it out for a one block wide wooden bridge. Of course, it goes without saying that he is not acting rationally, he is hurt and angry at the moment and he wants to convince himself that if others don’t care about him then he won’t care about them, which is why he starts lashing out more after this. And this is the result of Dream’s direct actions by the way.

“What is everyone saying about Tubbo’s compass? What is that? What is it? Explain to me” “I- uh I’m pretty sure that he burned it or something... or he lost it, something like that” “Wha...?” “He doesn’t have it anymore”

Tommy, up until now, didn’t even fully believed that Tubbo had a compass, but with the official confirmation of it being paired with Tubbo possibly willingly burn it, it’s the last straw for Tommy who decides to do the same. Though he doesn’t end up actually burning it, he does goes to take it out of the enderchest and bring it to the Nether. I do want to point out that Tubbo did not, in fact, either loose it or burn it willingly. It was blown up by accident in a creeper explosion.

*Tommy holding his compass over a sea of lava* “He burnt it? On purpose?” “I- I think so” “You know what, wou know what? Y- you know what?!” “Why don’t you- why don’t you sleep on it Tommy? Just wait don’t do anything, you know? Anything you can’t take back and then...” “I don’t sleep anymore Dream...”

Pretty sad scene... also a confirmation of what we said before about Tommy sleeping less and less. Also I’m not entirely sure why Dream was suddenly against Tommy burning the compass when he didn’t seem to be at the start, though it could be because Tommy was so obviously hesitant about it, so he probably wouldn’t have done it either way. Which means that it was a good moment to get friendship points. 

*Tommy standing in front of the portal in the main Nether hub* “I just want to go home... please can I go home...?” “Uhm, do you wanna see the Christmas tree for, like, 10 seconds?” “Can I stay?” “You can’t stay, but you can go look at it, I’ll let you out-” “Why can’t I stay?” “It’s not like they want you anyway Tommy” “wha...?” “Tommy, no-one showed up to your party and everyone was invited. Do you want to see the Christmas tree?” “I’ll just go back...”

This is the one single scene that is capable of making me emotional every single time. Just Tommy’s broken and small voice throughout it is something else... also Dream’s absolutely smug tone in all of it. But, the one thing, aside from the great acting, that I want to point out in all of this is how the reason for why Tommy can’t go back now has shifted from Dream killing him if he does to his old friends not wanting him around any longer. This way Dream gets to fully play the part of the magnanimous friend who still cares while everyone else is depicted as the enemy. Also I do find it interesting that in this scene Dream keeps insisting quite a bit for Tommy to go see the tree (in contrast to the first time where he refused for him to go back even for a few seconds), which almost looks like him testing how effective his conditioning was.

“That guy is gonna kill me, the little guy” *pointing at a baby piglin* “Oh” *Dream proceeds to get rid of it* (Tommy is by now basically dependent on Dream for his own safety)

“Do you need food?” “*sigh* No” (Tommy is literally on 3 hearts with 3 1/2 hunger bars and he is still refusing to eat)

They spend quite a bit of time after this by playing with Dream’s riptide trident and later also with the throwing one. Also Tommy changes his “girlfriend” hot girl for HOTTER girl (because I know you all deeply care for this kind of updates)

“I actually didn’t have a trident before and it took forever to come here, so I got a trident to come here quickly” “Oh thank you! You obviously care about me Dream” (Tommy feeling compelled to thank Dream for literally anything paired with Dream constantly showing off how much effort he is willing to put in)

“Let’s make a guest tent, let’s make a guest tent!” “That’s a... great idea” “In case any guest wanna- I mean maybe even- maybe you- we’ll make it here. It- it needs to be close to me because I’m- I’m really missing contact” (on top of everything else, Tommy was also canonically touch starved)

Dream and Tommy also make a guest tent together (and it’s implied a few times that maybe Dream will use it) before playing with tridents a bit more when it starts raining. Also Tommy builds a cobblestone smartphone were he keeps snapchat streaks with girls (this goes in the list of sentences I never thought I’d type). 

“Hey thanks for letting me keep my armour today” “You’re welcome” “It was nice of you” “I just thought it’d be good for the party and everything” “I’m sorry it wasn’t that much of a party in the end” “Eh, we make it a party together, so” “Yeah”

So, once more I want to point out a couple of things: there is no reason, aside from Dream’s conditioning, for Tommy to feel grateful that Dream didn’t take away his means to defend himself, nor is there any reason for Tommy to be the one apologizing for the party turning out the way it did. But also one other thing I want to point out is Dream’s insistence over them having fun together, which he keeps saying even later on during the prison visits. And I want to point that out because I do really think that Dream believes that or that he, at the very least, does try to convince himself of it. I’m still not entirely sure on that point, but, by now, I’m fairly sure that Dream really does believe that him and Tommy are his warped and toxic version of what “friends” would be...

“I should have died and then- and then I didn’t! I should have died...” (suicidal thoughts)

*Tommy reaching the maximum height with the trident* “I’m alone...” (just a very famous scene here, but also keeping to the theme of loneliness even when other people are around, in this case Dream)

“Just- just build a guest tent Dream! You’re probably gonna be the one who stays in the most so... since you’re my guest” 

*Dream standing inside the guest tent* “I’m in- I’m in my tent my tent” (the implications I mentioned before)

“Maybe I’m just gonna stay here, maybe I’m just gonna live here instead” (referring always to the guest tent and Logstedshire)

This all ends with Dream gifting Tommy the throwing trident (which he then puts in his enderchest) and Tommy also gains a zombie head from their mob hunting.

“Let me keep the other trident please” “What the one that you can throw?” “Yeah” “Okay Tommy, I’ll let you keep it” “Really?” “Yeah, as a gift, a beach party gift. You can remember our bonding experience from today” “Awww, thank you” (this is the conversation as a frame of reference)

“Listen Dream, what do we do now, then? If no-one is gonna come and visit me, what do I do?” “Nah, I’m visiting you!” (Dream really is convinced to me as much the center of Tommy’s universe as he is of his, huh?)

“Dream, as much as I’m feeling happy, I’m not. I’m not Dream. Where do we go from here?” “Uhm, I think that you will come around to liking it here, and you’ll build up your own ‘empire’ here, and you’ll be happy and maybe they’ll come and visit you- like you said! You said the thing about all, like, power right? You have no power and now they don’t visit you, maybe you’ll be- you’ll be back in power and then they’ll...” “I’ll always be exiled” “Yeah but that doesn’t mean you can’t become powerful, you can become powerful away from- away from them”

This is the closing conversation, that ends with Tommy entering the sea and disconnecting once he is on only one bubble of air left. Which, by the way, is a case of Tommy dissociating, which we know because he always later seems confused when logging in and finding himself in the water (meaning the confrontation with Jack at the hotel wasn’t the first case of him dissociating).

Also, while Dream is spewing all of this stuff about how “Tommy can still be powerful here” it’s obvious that that’s not the case. Tommy is not allowed armour or weapons and he is basically not allowed any allies (what with Dream sending Ghostbur away, intercepting Ranboo’s mail and making sure to keep away from Tommy as much as possible). Tommy is quite literally stuck in a position of powerlessness that he cannot escape from with someone who actually enjoys having him at his weakest.

I’ll leave it here for today, because this was literally one of the most intense streams so I had quite a lot to say and this became so damn long... I’ll probably condense the next two together.

[jaeminscoffee]

Little do you know | L. Ty

Pairings» Lee Taeyong x reader.

Genre» Fluff.

Word count» 1.53k

Warning(s)» tw/mental health.

Synopsis» Because little do you know, he was there to stay. Stay and love you. Love you till the sun dies.

Listen to: Little do you know; Alex and Sierra

Your mind could be described as a ticking time bomb. 

Your constantly flowing thoughts as the timer. And your insecurities; the safety that's threatening to pull itself off and just put you into this world of dread you've been staying cautious from for as long as you can remember. 

You've been a strong independent person prior to all misfortune in your life. You were capable of keeping yourself together, of keeping yourself anchored, or keeping yourself sane. Key word, were. 

Having regretted not listening to everyone around you saying "it just takes one dreadful event to spoil the rest of the entirety of your life" you let the bad take over the good. 

Obviously, you were warned and it's easier to just accept that you were in the wrong from the starting, but that's the catch, you weren't.

He was genuine, seemed genuinely into you and did of course care about you, a little too much maybe but that was, as you'd thought till now, for your sake. 

Sangyeon was the reason you'd worn few of your brightest smiles. He was the reason you'd been happy for a certain period in your life. He was the reason you'd been safe, barricaded by all those bad things happening outside this small love bubble he had created around you. It was just him and you against the world, again, that's what you thought. 

In reality it was him against all those who cared about you to drag you away from potentially ruining your life. And truth be told, this was something Sangyeon could have done nothing about. OLD, and schizophrenia. 

Not knowing about these until 2 years into your 'relationship' you were heartbroken but nevertheless, ready to stay by his side and help him out. But it was when he started viewing you as a prized possession rather than his lover when you started contemplating your decision which of course led to extra precautions, extra arguments, extra physical restrictions and extra everything. 

Jojo had warned you, Eric had warned you too, so did Juyeon and so did basically the entire senior year students, probably even the entire campus. Heck best friend!Taeyong had even gone as far as getting into a physical fight with your ex. The matters only got worse from then. 

Your ability to smile slowly deteriorated. Your ability to make out whether you're feeling too much or too little deteriorated. Your ability to feel loved even after being spoiled both materialistically and emotionally deteriorated. You were weakened. Mentally, and physically. 

Helpless.

Breaking free from such toxic relationships was a whiff of fresh air in a long time. But that regular breathing came with a cost. The cost of living on constant fear of never being able to go back to normal again. To never be able to know what true love is again. To never be you again. 

Taking a glance beside you with another silent sob breaking free from your throat. You felt nothing. Or maybe you did, you just didn't know. That overwhelming feeling of being a burden to the poor guy beside you due to your doings made you feel extremely horrible. 

Taeyong had always been one to warn you from the day he saw your ex steal a glance at you from way across the cafeteria. He was one to always walk on glass shards to have you walk on a smooth road. He was one to always be there for you sp that you'd have a shoulder to lean. He calls himself, your human diary. 

Of course being oblivious to your friends' genuine love and concern for you, you took it as Taeyong's conscience that asked him to move in with you when he got to know the state you were in. Rounding back to the point that you feared you could feel nothing, you couldn't feel his love for you. 

It took years of constant breakdowns and arguments with everyone around you to normal down a bit. When you could smile a little more usual. When you actually got to know all that Taeyong gave up to stay by your side for your healthy recovery. And that's where the feeling of being a burden comes in. 

Taeyong always reminded you of how much you mean to him. How much he's ready to wait. How much he likes you for how you are and how much more he's ready to express for you to believe him. And you appreciated that but at the same time, you didn't want him wasting your time on someone like you. 

You scoot further down the headboard, shifting closer to Taeyong's unconscious form as you wrap your arms around him, your shoulder shaking ever so slightly to not disturb the peaceful boy as you constantly let out chains of apology, pulling yourself even closer to him as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

You get flashbacks of your seemingly innocent relationship, how you'd be just in the same position with your ex, how he'd have his arms wrapped around you, keeping your body flush against his, how he'd always sleep only after making sure that you'd fallen asleep. Only encouraging your tears to flow down faster. 

Too focused in staying silent and indulged in memories you fail to notice Taeyong's shift in position, turning to face you as his breathing picks a steady pace at the sudden intrusion to his slumber, immediately shooting awake when he notices your trembling figure, wrapping his arms around you the same manner as yours around his. 

"Y/n?" 

"I'm sorry.." you shake harder with each loud sob that left your throat, squeezing him a little tighter, feeling guiltier now that you woke him up dead in the night. 

"Hey, it's okay.. It's okay, love. Let it out, hm?" he hushes your apologies, moving to shift both of you into a sitting position as his back rests against the headboard, while he lets you straddle his lap. 

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this all because of me.." 

"I'm not going through anything because of you, Y/n. I'm going through everything with you. Don't be sorry for that" He hums in a comforting manner, rocking your figure back and forth in an effort to calm your reckless cries. 

"I don't know why, Tae, i.. -i just, keep getting reminded of all the-times i spent with him and, the dread, the fear, it.. -it all comes crashing in at the same time and i keep pulling you into the pit too, I'm so sorry.."

"Your emotion's something you don't have a grip over, doll. It's like that for everyone. You really don't have to apologize for anything. I volunteered for this, I stayed because I wanted to stay. And I'm more than happy that I'm the one you're facing your worst at. That you're not alone. But I'll need you to stop feeling bad for it Y/n. So that i know you trust me a hundred percent.. "

"i need you to stop feeling like you have to apologize for something you can do almost nothing about. And I need you to know, I'll be there. Whenever, where ever." you sob silently as you let him do the talking from here on, not trusting your voice. 

"I also need you to just let go. Let yourself feel bad, let yourself cry, let yourself lean onto someone without feeling guilty because, y/n if you'd just let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world. And I promise I'll stay, and no judgements will be passed. You're human. There's no way you can handle all by just yourself, you'll only end up losing yourself if you do that. So, don't apologize hm?"

"But, yong. You're wasting your time, your love. Yourself for.. Me.. -me. I don't. I don't deserve it. I d-don't deserve you.." you choke out as soon as he comes to an end to his talking. 

"That's how you think, darling. If anything, you deserve much more than me. And about wasting my time loving you?" he shifts again to rest his chin on top of your head. 

"I'm ready to wait, for as long as you want me to wait without reducing an ounce of my feelings for you. Don't worry about that. " Taeyong places a peck to the crown of your head, rubbing your back as you calm down a little, the soreness from all the crying kicking in. 

"But I'll need a little more time, Taeyong.. I don't know when, but i promise I'll get back and.. I don't know if that'll be enough to return all that you've done for me.. But i.. I'm trying." you lift your face up and away from his shoulder to look at him.

A faint, fond smile grows on the lad's face, as he let's go of one of his hands to brush the stray tresses away from your face and then proceeds to dry your cheeks, kissing the last tear away. 

"And I'll wait. And I'll love you till the sun dies. So just let go. Trust the process."

"Lay your head on me, and let yourself breathe"

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch. 4

what you can do with what there is

Chapter Three

This is the fourth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Last Chapter: some time passed and Spencer is still struggling, especially after he felt betrayed by Rossi on the Solitary Man case. Georgetown tried to recruit Spencer to run their Chemistry department.

In This Chapter: Aaron comes to some heartbreaking realisations, gets very protective, and Stuff Happens in Alaska.

TW: haley & foyet as well as grief mentioned; chapter centres on an outsider's view of depression.

Word Count: 4.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. — Ernest Hemmingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Much of the year passes in somewhat of a blur for Aaron. He focuses on looking after Jack, dedicating absolutely everything he has to his son when he’s at home while throwing himself into the cases that come across his desk at work.

A small part of him he’d thought was dead regenerates as his work serves as a stark reminder of all the people he saves, all the good he can do with his job still. Maybe he couldn’t save Haley — something that will no doubt haunt him for the rest of his days — but he can save other people’s loved ones. There is still good to do, and he tries to draw his strength from that.

Grief, of course, still flickers relentlessly in his heart, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t quite seem to extinguish the flame burning its way through the tired tissue, but at least the smouldering doesn’t hurt quite so viscerally anymore. He’s learned to live with it. Getting up in the morning feels easier day by day, and sometimes he’s even able to look at Jack without seeing Haley’s face — and if he does, it doesn’t punch him in the gut in quite the way it used to.

As soon as he’s back to work he tries as hard as he can to keep an eye on Spencer, but the hectic nature of the cases and the younger man’s talent for melting into the background when he wants to is making it far harder than he’d like. He’d come over to his place a few times after Aaron had invited him to stay for lunch and he’d seemed a little more comfortable each time, brightening up considerably as he sat on the sofa with Aaron or let Jack take him on a tour through his lego sets.

The problem is that even though Aaron knows Spencer’s mental state is deteriorating, he has no idea how to bring it up. Sometimes it’s even easy to miss: it doesn’t affect his work, he avoids the rest of them as much as possible — Aaron and Penelope appearing to be the only exceptions for some reason — and his fake smiles seem to have the others on the team pretty much convinced.

He can’t exactly order him into his office and demand to know what’s going on, especially since his work is still exemplary, nor does it seem tactful to bring it up when Spencer is sitting on the floor playing trains with his son. Broaching the subject of emotions isn’t something either of them are exactly comfortable with, and he knows he’ll scare him off if he ambushes him.

Something had changed after their case in New Mexico, but he still can’t quite put his finger on what. An element of relief has been playing over Spencer’s face and body language; something of the deep uneasiness he’d been carrying lifted.

He’d be relieved if Spencer had had even a single conversation with him outside of work since that case. Surely if he was genuinely feeling better his visits to Aaron’s apartment would only increase, but they’ve stopped altogether.

Between working hard to distract himself from the pain of losing Haley and looking after Jack, he just can’t figure it out.

That is, until the Alaska case.

🌧

Aaron makes a point to get on the jet last. Spencer’s been avoiding him, but if he chooses a seat first, then Aaron can slide into the seat opposite. He doesn’t exactly have a game plan, but he wants to at least stick close to Spencer, to have at least one conversation with him.

Having him close has felt more and more essential recently. He chalks it up to feeling Spencer’s avoidance all too acutely, but really — if he’s being completely honest with himself — he knows it’s more than that; something deep inside him is shifting. If it is what he thinks it is, he’s in for a world of trouble.

The jet always feels cosy at night, the soft lighting and comfortable seating a decent environment to get a nap in, and as he climbs in, the door closing behind him, he sees the rest of the team getting ready for a few hours of sleep before they debrief an hour or so before landing. Spencer’s tucked into the corner closest to the door, feet curled up under him as he faces towards the window, the blackness of the night and warm light of the plane reflecting his tight, pensive face.

As he slides in opposite him, Spencer’s eyes open briefly. He’s careful to school his expression, but Aaron sees the turmoil in the miniscule movements of his face muscles. He wants to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his anxiety passes but he doubts that would be helpful: he’s clearly playing at least a part in the pain Spencer’s going through.

“Okay?” he murmurs, as the quiet roar of the jet engines starting up gives them a little privacy for conversation.

Spencer nods, keeping his eyes closed as he shifts a little. Maybe it’s the gentle illumination of the cabin or maybe it’s just one of the first real times of clarity and concentration he’s had in months — barring his fierce focus on the cases — but in this moment Aaron notices. He notices how Spencer’s lost a significant amount of weight, how his face is gaunt and exhausted, his body language tense and self-protective. It’s like all the confusion that’s been playing across his mind is answered in an instant.

Aaron’s stomach clenches with guilt. How did he ever let it get this bad? How did he not see? How has everyone else not seen?

He’s been operating in such a haze of trauma and grief it’s as though he’s been floating through life, not focusing on anybody but Jack longer than necessary. Even when Spencer was sitting on his couch and clamming up whenever he brought the team up or discussed something that made him uncomfortable for some unfathomable reason, he just couldn’t see it. He’s been so wrapped up in himself and Jack, he’d missed the signs of someone who means so much to him spiralling down into a black pit of… what? Exhaustion? Despair? Misery?

Aaron clears his throat. “Spencer,” he starts — it feels more appropriate to use his first name — as they take off towards Alaska, “you can be honest with me.” He tries for gentleness, and reaches across the small table between them to brush Spencer’s hand with the pads of his fingers; meant to be a reassuring, non-assuming touch.

His stomach does a somersault as his fingers meet Spencer’s cold skin. As much as he wants to pretend it’s nervousness, some sort of anticipation, plain and simple worry for the wellbeing of a colleague, he can’t. Every fibre of his being is begging him to take Spencer’s hands in his, hold them until they warm up again, until his eyes open and meet his own, until he climbs into Aaron’s lap and lets him make everything better.

Instead, Spencer’s eyes squeeze tighter as a small tear makes its way past his eyelashes, sliding down his pale cheek and Aaron’s chest burns at the sight.

“Oh, Spencer,” he says, voice hoarse as emotion crawls up from his chest, invading his throat. “I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not noticing sooner, sorry you’re in so much pain, sorry I can’t make it better.

Spencer just shakes his head, eyes still tight and wrinkled, withdrawing his hand from where it’s still resting under Hotch’s cautious touch. “Not your fault,” he whispers eventually, bringing himself together enough to manage a watery, self-deprecating smile. “I’m being ridiculous.” He wipes another tear away and inhales deeply, letting out slowly as he looks down in his lap. “I’m tired and we need to sleep before we get to Alaska. Can this wait? Please?”

He’s definitely telling the truth. His eyes are dark and every muscle in his body is belying his exhaustion, there’s no question about that.

Aaron knows he needs to relent. Spencer is right, they all need their rest so they can focus their full attention on the case once they arrive in Alaska, and it’s not like he’s going to spill his soul to Aaron on a jet surrounded by people he doesn’t seem all too happy with.

“Okay,” he sighs, trying to school his face rid of anything that could be construed as pity as he tries for something closer to empathy. “Let’s talk about it after this case.” He doesn’t add a question or leave any room for argument: he’s going to get the truth out of Spencer if it kills him.

Spencer nods once, closing his eyes and drawing even tighter in on himself. Aaron doesn’t quite trust he’s really agreeing — he’s holding something back; his face is a little too blank to be natural, his body language tense, and Aaron isn’t inclined to believe it’s simply apprehension for such a conversation. But pushing won’t get him anywhere. He takes his comfort in at least knowing now, knowing what to look out for, knowing he needs to protect Spencer, as well as a tentative agreement.

He closes his eyes, not intending to sleep but to think. Something’s gone horribly wrong, and he needs to figure out what. With Spencer involved, he’ll move heaven and earth to get to the bottom of it.

Emily and Derek are taken on a tour of the small town as soon as they arrive by seaplane, and the rest of them are directed to Carol’s Tavern by the Sheriff. Aaron tries not to be obvious, but he can’t help himself from hovering a little closer to Spencer than normal, itching for an excuse to touch him as they enter the inn and start to set up.

Spencer sits quietly in an armchair, speed-reading through the existing files and documents on the case supplied by the police department, and he looks so small Aaron wants to cry. He didn’t have weight to lose in the first place: he’s skin and bones and he looks utterly exhausted. He’s flipping through the papers slower than usual, rubbing his eyes and face constantly as his leg bounces up and down. It’s so unlike Spencer, Aaron has to ask himself again in utter bewilderment how on earth a team of FBI profilers all missed this.

“Everything okay?” Dave asks as he sidles up to where Aaron is standing, pretending to fiddle on his phone while he sneaks covert looks in Spencer’s direction.

Aaron’s known Dave long enough to hear the implication in his voice, and he fights to keep his cool, to keep the blush off his face. “Yeah,” he says as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring whatever he’s trying to imply. “The Sheriff is going to escort me to the police office as soon as he wraps up talking with Carol. I want you and Spencer to head to the ME.” Even if Spencer is having problems with people on the team, surely Dave will be a comforting fatherly presence. As much as he itches to go with him instead, that would only raise suspicion, and he knows Spencer would never forgive him for that.

“I hear it’s actually the town doctor,” Dave says, raising an eyebrow, “not an ME. But we’ll head out as soon as you do.”

The Sheriff wanders over and Aaron sends Dave a flat-lipped smile and follows him out of the inn. He catches a final look at Spencer’s bone-weary face as Dave collects him to go to the doctor’s office, and nothing registers on Dave’s face to say he’s noticed Spencer’s misery; he simply taps him on the shoulder, tells him where they’re going, and collects his coat.

To some extent, he forgives himself for not noticing Spencer’s suffering despite the guilt he still feels, but the rest of the team — Dave, his father figure — not seeing it, not reaching out, not doing everything they can to alleviate it feels unforgivable.

Anger rises in his chest as they walk the short distance to the police office. How long has it been like this? No wonder Spencer was so cagey when he bought up the team: they abandoned him in his hour of need. He forces the swelling fury down as they walk into the building as best he can though; it’s unproductive and they have a case to solve. He’s going to work relentlessly until it is, until they can fly home and he can fix this.

They regroup back at the inn that evening, sharing their facts and theories from the day’s work. The fire is going, a cosy antidote to the freezing Alaska air outside, and Aaron’s sure he would probably feel quite content if he wasn’t so damn worried about Spencer.

It’s the sort of place he could properly relax and enjoy on holiday. Haley was always a two-weeks-in-Europe kind of person, but he’s always preferred a cosy, private cabin in the middle of winter. His therapist has slowly got him used to the idea of one day moving on with someone new, and he thinks that maybe he’ll have to revisit Alaska and take that person with him one day.

(He ignores the part of his heart that longs for that person to be Spencer.)

“Alright, so we have a psychopath with hunting skills who knows the routines of everybody in town,” JJ sighs, resting her head on her palm, curled into the corner of one of the sofas. “How do we keep everybody safe?”

“Sheriff, I suggest you institute a curfew until we have the unsub in custody,” Aaron says, voice grave. “Nobody out after dark.”

“I’ll have one of my deputies patrolling around the clock.”

He nods. “Garcia, how’s it coming with town records?”

“I've run everyone who's been printed through CODIS, nothing's come up so far. I'm gonna pull an all-nighter, finish going through the town records — should have background checks by sunrise.”

“Good,” he says, nodding appreciatively in her direction. His eyes are still half-watching Spencer. “The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning.”

“I’ve got four of the rooms available upstairs,” Carol says, clearly anticipating less than pleased reactions.

Spencer’s head snaps up at that, “uh, four?” Anxiety is written across his face, not for the first time today, and Aaron itches to hold his hand, calm his worries. His instincts, let alone his feelings, are getting harder and harder to ignore.

“It's the best we can do. Your team is double the size of my department,” the Sheriff replies, somewhat harshly as he gets up to leave. Aaron winces at the way it makes Spencer draw in on himself, almost flinching at his tone. “See you in the morning.”

“Looks like we’ll have to double up,” Aaron says, inching closer to Spencer’s armchair. He ignores the Sheriff’s good night. Anyone who speaks even somewhat rudely to Spencer doesn’t deserve niceties.

Immediately, Derek scoffs. “I’m not sleeping with Reid,” he says, and it’s so out of the blue that Aaron nearly does a double take. How uncalled for, he thinks, and his heart sinks at the sight of Spencer retreating further inside himself, a hurt, bewildered expression colouring his features.

(He once again ignores the part of his brain that responds to Derek’s comment with ‘I’d like to’. That is wildly unhelpful right now.)

“Dibs,” Penelope says, resting her hand on his forearm as they share loving glances with one another, but Aaron barely pays them any attention, his eyes glued to Spencer and his heartbroken expression. He realises that it probably feels like a double rejection for him, both Penelope and Derek choosing each other for him.

“I’ll sleep alone,” Dave says knowingly, coming up behind him and resting his hands on both his shoulders for a moment before grabbing his bag and heading upstairs, room key in hand.

Spencer seems frozen in time, thoughts clearly going a million miles an hour, so Aaron waits until JJ and Emily have paired off and gone upstairs with Derek and Penelope before crouching down in front of Spencer’s armchair.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching his palm to Spencer’s arm briefly. As soon as his eyes come back into focus, a flash of that expression Aaron hasn’t been able to put his finger on — relief? — whips across his face before he carefully schools it into neutrality. Aaron can still see the undertones of pain and betrayal written in his eyes, though. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Spencer starts at that. “You want to share a room with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aaron asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He shakes his head and gathers himself, grabbing his bag and heading to the stairs without replying.

Aaron enters the room a moment after him, surprised to see the ensuite light on and door locked already. He heads towards the only bed in the room, a spacious double, and dumps his bag before sitting on the edge and fixing his eyes on the motel art hanging on the wall opposite him. He takes a deep breath in before exhaling slowly: he can do this, he can share a bed with Spencer and not make it weird.

It’s a good few minutes before Spencer exits the bathroom, changed into a relaxed t-shirt and pajama bottoms with his long hair combed and fluffy around his shoulders. Aaron tries very hard not to think how utterly delectable he looks and simply offers a small smile as Spencer approaches the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor if you prefer,” Aaron says, completely sincere. He’d do anything to make Spencer more comfortable. Any other time he’d expect Spencer to stay polite and insist it’s fine, but this version of the younger man seems to be teetering on the edge of reckless carelessness and furious irritation just precariously enough to say what he really means.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Spencer crawls under the duvet, not meeting Aaron’s eyes as a blush colours his cheeks. “The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Aaron gets ready for bed as quickly as he can before joining Spencer under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body heat and desperately craving more. He tries to stamp those feelings down. He’s only recently lost Haley, and where did this ridiculous crush on his youngest subordinate come from anyway? He squeezes his eyes tightly shut for a minute as his chest tightens with the flood of all these confusing emotions before he turns his attention towards the man lying next to him.

“Spencer?” he whispers, rolling over to face him.

He doesn’t respond, just turns his head a little and blinks slowly.

“Derek shouldn’t have said what he said in the lobby,” he murmurs carefully, not wanting to upset him. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron feels the mattress move as Spencer tenses up, curling in on himself but not turning to face the other way. He can’t help it when he reaches out to place his hand on top of Spencer’s clutched, freezing fingers.

“What do you think he meant?” Spencer whispers, voice vulnerable and strained as his big, blinking eyes meet Aaron’s.

Aaron swallows as his stomach dips at the intensity of sad, hazel eyes staring into his own, and he squeezes Spencer’s hands a little tighter. “I don’t know, Spencer,” he says sadly. “I really don’t. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it was cruel and uncalled for. He’s the one missing out.” He smiles a little in the soft light of the streetlamp streaming in through the curtains, trying to convince Spencer how serious he is.

A gallery of emotions play out across Spencer’s face. They’re gone too quickly for Aaron to read, but he can gather enough to know he’s conflicted about something.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” he promises softly. He feels so unprofessional right now, but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself: Spencer is hurting and every part of him is itching to make it better. His reasons are unimportant and irrelevant at this moment in time, all that matters is Spencer’s well-being.

Spencer looks away at that, shifting a little as he pulls his hands away from Aaron’s. “We should get some sleep,” he says quietly, rolling away to face the window.

Neither of them sleep for hours.

He keeps Spencer as close as possible for the rest of the case, and once they’ve finally wrapped it up — Aaron quietly proud of how clever Spencer is for figuring out the driving motive for the unsub — they clamber onto the jet and collapse into their seats.

It’s nice to be flying home in daylight for once, but the bright light of the clear sky is clearly hurting Spencer’s head as he curls into himself in the same corner he chose on the journey there. The first thing he does when he sits down is close the shutter, heart fluttering at Spencer’s thankful smile.

Aaron works through his paperwork as Spencer sits opposite him silently, not joining in with anybody’s conversations like he used to do, instead seeming totally wrapped up in his own head. It’s nice to sit in the configuration they’re both so used to, although Aaron definitely prefers to sit at the other end of the jet, and he’d relax into it a little more if Spencer wasn’t so obviously in pain. He cracks on with his work, trying his best to focus on the knowledge that the second they get back to Quantico, he can talk with Spencer and they can get started on fixing what’s wrong.

“Hotch?” Spencer says quietly, unravelling himself from his curled ball as they approach landing.

Aaron looks up from his careful organising of the case notes into his binder, and can’t help it when his face softens the second he meets Spencer’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, looking a little fearful for some reason. “When we get back to the office?”

Aaron is immediately torn between feeling elated that Spencer wants to confide in him and not completely trusting that this is a good thing. Spencer didn’t exactly seem like he was chomping at the bit to have the kind of conversation Aaron is hoping for, and he doubts that two nights of sharing a bed changed that drastically.

“Of course,” he says, regardless of his doubts, but his suspicion is only raised when Spencer’s expression turns to something like shame at Aaron’s cautious smile, turning to look out the window instead.

Aaron watches as Spencer eases himself into the chair opposite his desk as soon as they get into his office, wringing his hands as he waits for him to situate himself. Watching his body language, he’s still torn: this really could go either way, but his gut is telling him to prepare for the worst. Aaron prays he’s wrong, but he knows that this is instinct; his subconscious has picked up on things he isn’t even aware of and it’s telling him to brace himself.

“I’m resigning,” Spencer says. “Effective immediately.”

Aaron’s head swims, his vision blurs, his heart pounds — considering the implications of Spencer Reid resigning from the BAU is dizzying him. He does his best to keep his cool, but Spencer is a profiler. He’ll be able to see the raging emotions through the cracks in his mask.

“Is…” he starts, before clearing his throat and briefly glancing down at the table, “is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

Spencer shakes his head, despondency evident on his face. Did he really manage to miss such miserable expressions all this time, or has Spencer finally stopped concealing them now he doesn’t have anything to lose?

“I can’t do this anymore, Hotch,” he says, allowing himself to be vulnerable with Aaron again, and despite the circumstances, he treasures that trust more than anything. “I’m tired. I don’t want it to affect my work, and I have no joy in this anymore. I’ve been offered a position at Georgetown, and I’m accepting it.”

When Spencer joined the bureau at 22, three years below the standard eligibility age, one of the conditions of his contract had been the ability to resign without notice: the brass’s attempt at insuring his mental health and covering their own asses. Three years away from a contract renewal, the condition remains, and Spencer is free to leave if he wants to. Even if it makes Aaron’s heart sick.

“I’m… incredibly sorry to see you go, Spencer.” He’s sort of at a loss for words. “I hope you know that you can still talk to me, even when you leave. I know you’re unhappy, I know there’s something going on and I want to help. This team is a family, and that doesn’t change just because someone leaves to do something else.”

“Well, I’m not sure how welcome I really am in this family,” Spencer responds, an edge of bitterness in his tone that catches Aaron off-guard.

“What do you mean? Is it what Derek said?” Aaron knows it’s something bigger than that, but he still hasn’t figured out what. He knows Spencer’s been a bit left out since everything happened with Foyet, but the specifics are lost on him, and he’s desperate to know, desperate to fix this.

Spencer deflates, suddenly looking incredibly tired. “No, I—” he trails off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worrying about it, Spencer,” he says, firm and kind. “I worry about you. I care about you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I need to go home. I’m exhausted,” Spencer says slowly, standing up to leave. Aaron’s at a loss for what to say so just stands up with him, hoping against hope that this isn’t the last time he sees him. Spencer pauses in the doorway. “Did you mean… what you said? That I can talk to you still?” His voice is small and apprehensive, refusing to meet Aaron’s eye.

He softens at that, feeling some of the intense emotions raging inside of him quieten as he looks at the smaller man standing in his doorway, hanging on with his fingernails. “Yes,” he promises quietly. “I meant every word. You can call me anytime, day or night. If you think I’m just going to let you walk out of my life, Spencer, you’re sorely mistaken.” His voice is fierce, emotional in a way he doesn’t often allow.

Spencer meets his eyes then, and Aaron wants to drown in them, consequences be damned. “Thank you, Aaron,” he whispers quietly, before he opens the door and makes his way across the bullpen, both ignoring and ignored by Emily and Derek chatting happily at their desks.

He doesn’t turn around this time, and Aaron doesn’t wave. He sits at his desk, and he cries.

Chapter Five

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187

[spookybreadstick]

HIII BREADSTICK!!!

I’ve got curious...

How was the first time that EJ got too hungry?

Hope you doing well!! Love you 🖤❤️💜🤍💚💙🧡💜🖤💜❤️

-dancing parrot 🐦🎶

AHHH THIS GOT BURIED BUT I FOUND IT!!!! I hope you like it, sorry that it’s so late!! (Love you & hope you’re doing good as well!!)

I had two ideas for this ask, but I decided to go with EJ’s very first time he got too hungry, back before he was at the mansion (my other idea was the first time this happened while at the mansion, but maybe that’ll be a story for a different time). 

~~~~~~~~~~

⚠️ WARNING: This is very disturbing. This is probably the most disturbing I’ll be willing to go in terms of creepypasta ⚠️

I’ll put the warnings after the emojis and then the story below a cut so you can choose whether to skip this entirely or read the warnings to see if it’s okay for you. In comparison with other creepypasta writers, this is probably very tame but for me personally and the stuff I typically write on here, it’s a bit extreme, so fair warning either way. 

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

If you have easily triggered emetophobia, don’t read! 

 Trigger/content warnings: description of animal death and consumption, v*miting, description of human death, cannibalism, amnesia/memory loss, losing track of time, human becoming animalistic,  mental state deteriorating, uncontrollable urges, overall dark content

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

At first, when he came to these woods, he had tried to feed himself berries and nuts. But his body rejected it. He knew that it was important to eat, and his body was crying out for it, but he couldn't feed it. Anything he ate was simply expelled. So, he had to take more drastic measures. A squirrel, that was the first thing. Squirrels were stupid and easy to catch. (Now rabbits were much harder. They always seemed to know when he was near and stayed far way from him). He had caught a squirrel with a little trap he had rigged, and then he... well, he couldn't quite remember. He might have cooked it. Or tried to. Oh yes, he did cook the squirrel over a small fire. Yes, that's right, because it didn't sit well with him. The cooked meat. His body didn't expel it, but it didn't really accept it either. It took away the edge of his gnawing hunger, but it didn't help much. He needed more.

He caught many more squirrels after that, hoping that maybe this time, the squirrel meat would help him feel better. The hunger, the deep hunger in his belly, it hurt. And then there was a day, a period of several days actually, where there was a dry spell. He couldn't find any squirrels. He grew weak from the hunger. Where were the squirrels? He had stumbled through the woods looking for them. There had to be more to eat in these woods.

And then he happened upon a raccoon. Or maybe it was a badger. A beaver, maybe? It was an animal, at any rate. Larger than a squirrel. And he had meant to cook it, really he had, but there was no time. He had really run out of time, and time barely existed out in these woods anyhow. But there just wasn't time to set a fire and he had quite forgotten how to. There was only one thing on his mind, and that was eating. NOW.

So he had devoured the thing. Ate everything right then and there. And finally, finally, the pain in his stomach went away. And that was how it began. The business of eating things raw. Squirrels and rabbits and deer and all sorts of other creatures that scurried about. He got so hungry when he didn't, then after a point he stopped caring at all that it was raw. He forgot that it was even a problem. Who cared if he ate things raw? Was there even another option? He didn't know. He just knew that the raw meat was enough to keep the hunger away, and to keep him from growing weak.

But there was something else, something more to the hunger than what was in his belly. There was a hunger that came from the deepest part of him. A hunger that boiled in his blood and cried out from his bones. This hunger wasn't satisfied even when his belly was full. It bothered him all the time, but he didn't know what it was. It made him dizzy sometimes, that deep hunger, dizzy with the sheer intensity of his cravings. Cravings for what, though? What could he be craving? He didn't know until after it had happened.

It was nighttime. He had heard a noise, and something in him told him that he needed to find its source. He stumbled blindly into a clearing, and there was something glowing. A fire, yes that's what it was. He had forgotten about fires. He had made a noise then, a noise that expressed his delight at the re-discovery of fire. But this had alerted another creature. The creature had stepped out of it's dwelling, whatever it was, and froze completely when it saw him. And then....

Well, then it was terrible. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened. One minute, the creature was there, standing across from him on the other side of the fire. And the next minute, the creature was pinned beneath him. It had writhed and screamed and struggled. It was much more difficult than any other creature. But in the very next minute, it was all over.

He returned to his cave for the night, and in the morning, he woke up feeling better than he could ever remember feeling. He felt focused and his thoughts were more collected than they had been before. He remembered that he was Jack. The name had felt familiar before, but like it belonged to somebody else. But now he knew that he was Jack.

Jack sat up and looked around, slowly blinking. His memory came flooding back to him, and the anguish of remembering how this "new him" came to be washed over his body. He hung his head and noticed the blood on his hands. There was blood everywhere. A cold dread crept over him as he realized that it was not his blood. He wished with every ounce of his strength that it was from an animal, but he knew better. The taste of.... it was still on his tongue. Jack couldn't bring himself to say what it really was, not even to himself. Not even in his own thoughts could he admit the atrocity that he had committed. Jack had a fleeting thought that it had tasted somewhat like pork, and he immediately gagged in disgust with himself. He hunched over and retched and retched, trying to bring it up, the horrific contents of his stomach, but nothing happened. It had settled happily in his stomach, and that deep gnawing hunger had been satisfied. Horrified, Jack howled out in emotional anguish and he didn't stop. He screamed and screamed until his body gave out. 

When his body gave out, throat raw from all the screams, he finally became aware of another being in his presence. An incredibly tall and pale being, with a face devoid of any noticeable facial features. It was staring at him. Jack braced himself for death by the hands of this creature (a monster killed by another monster, how fitting) but was surprised when the hand of the creature reached out to him.

'Come with me,' the creature said, "I will help you."

[regular-lord-reckoner]

just kind of need to vent some fears i have right now throwing this into the void style but

i know i desperately need to start therapy, have for a long time but i think i’ve realized this week why it scares me so much

it’s not that i’m so much afraid of sitting down and talking about...well, everything, but it’s that i fear my life getting better

i fear growing and healing and being happier because i don’t know what i’ll do when the next inevitable tragedy happens

i’m scared it’ll undo all my hard work or hit me ten times harder

i’m scared i’ll meet new people or even fall in love (fat chance) and something will go horribly wrong

after all, my parents both had pretty shitty lives for a long time but finally found happiness it seemed like and then...bam, worst fucking thing imaginable

and i get that that’s...life. i get that nobody gets to be happy and only ever be happy and i get that horrible things can happen to anyone at any time, regardless of whether they’ve happened before but i dunno

it just seems...safer this way?

like yeah, i’m deeply miserable and can’t wait to die but isn’t that better than actually enjoying life for a second only to be body slammed back into misery?

what if life’s got even more fucked up shit in store for me and i do all this goddamn work to overcome my trust issues and abandonment issues and just...all of it and then i just have something happens that’s almost as bad as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me?

i guess that’s...childish of me? stupid of me? silly and irrational? but i don’t know how to not feel that way when a massive part of my problem is that one day i woke up to a suicide by someone that promised me they’d always be there for me.

i already feel like i walk on eggshells all the time and am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop

if i hear a loud noise downstairs i don’t think, “oh, someone probably dropped something” or even just “what was that?” i think “dead. they’re dead. someone just died and you’re going to have to see it”

and even with all of that aside like...what life am i even supposed to have?

my parents need me. my dad’s old and has a lot of health problems so i’ve been taking on even more responsibilities around the house and that’s only going to increase the older he gets

their relationship has...deteriorated. it’s not constant fighting but it’s been enough that it’s also got me on high alert and i’ve had to intervene several times because i don’t want either of them to say some shit that’s going to really hurt the other and i also just don’t want them yelling at each other

i genuinely worry about what would happen if i were to move out, i feel sometimes like i’m the only thing holding this all together and like...yeah, that’s not really fair to me but at the same time too...i would have ended my shit a long time ago had it not been for them so i feel like...what choice do i have but to stay? might as well, right?

if i’m too chicken shit to get better because i’m scared it’ll all fall apart anyway then i might as well just stay stagnant and stay here and just take care of them and try to keep the peace as long as i can and whenever they’re eventually gone i figure if life’s okay i’ll just ride it out until the end but if not...well.

idk. i know that the obvious answers are here and i know what anyone or any therapist would say if i were to say these things. that i need to just get over this and learn to want to live my life for myself and not worry as much about what’ll happen because that’s not my responsibility

but i feel like i already let down one person i really loved in the worst way so i owe to my family to do this, to stay here and to help out however i can

and yeah, it’s not ideal but it’s at least the devil i know so it feels better than the alternative

the downside is i know it’s going to cost me everything else

i know nobody wants a fucking sad sack who won’t get her shit together and isn’t going anywhere in life

i know i offer little to nothing because i can barely muster up the energy to be enthusiastic about my own interests and just generally speaking i suck

yeah, i’m good for a laugh here or there but apart from that? that’s about it

i can’t seem to form any hobbies or do any activities that might be fun because trying new things makes me suicidal as shit when it’s supposed to be like...fun, but it’s not

i feel like all i ever do is bitch and moan and nobody likes that, that gets old really fucking fast and i know that

i don’t blame anyone for giving up on me or losing hope because i did this to myself and nobody but me can get myself out of this and well...i don’t know if i can or if it’s even worth it

so i just...don’t really know what to do

and maybe this is just my very bad brain at the moment and when i go back on my ~medication i’ll change my mind and want to actually get better, regardless of how terrifying that is, but i’ve spent this entire week crying my eyes out because the thought of it just feels so fucking overwhelming and impossible

i dunno. i’m sorry to anyone who reads this because i know this is... a lot, but i’ve been holding this in for a long time and this entire past year has really been hard on me

i try not to talk about it because i know it’s a bummer and i know it just pushes people even further away from me, but i don’t think it’s helping just bottling it up and pretending like it’s not all i can ever think about and again...i genuinely don’t know if i can do the therapy thing because...yeah

i also just need to get this off my chest because i haven’t said it on here or to anyone but i also lost my dog a few months ago

i genuinely don’t know what happened to him, i think someone may have straight up stolen him because some people moved out of one of the houses near us and i know he’d been going over there sometimes so i’m not sure if that’s the case, if it is i just hope they’re taking good care of him because he’s a very sweet boy who doesn’t deserve anything bad to happen to him

we’ve looked everywhere for him and we don’t have those people’s information and even if we did i doubt they’d admit, “oh yeah, we stole your dog!” so i’m really not sure but naturally the last time i ever saw him i was trying to do some work outside and i needed to just get it done but he wanted to play so i told him to just wait until i was finished and then i’d play with him, so he wandered off and that’s the last time i ever saw him

i’ve felt like such a fucking asshole over it and i’ll scroll through my phone looking for something and see pictures of him and i just...can’t. i still keep hoping he’s just going to reappear one day, tail wagging and wanting a hug

it doesn’t have as much to do with everything else but it’s just kinda like...damn, dude.

oh, and my grandmother has lung cancer and doesn’t want treatment so there’s also that

my relationship with her has broken down pretty badly so i’m not horribly torn up about it but i know it’s going to be hard on my mom and so like...even more reason why i feel like i have to be here, y’know?

idk. it just kinda feels like my life isn’t really mine and maybe it shouldn’t be because i’m not sure i can handle it, i’m not sure i can handle it getting good only for it to possibly get really bad again and i know that there’s always the possibility of it just...being okay and that maybe bad things will happen, but they won’t be traumatic and awful but...taking that risk just feels impossible and ultimately i don’t know that it’s worth it because at the end of the day it’s...me.

i figure i already inflict myself on enough good people who only deserve good things and if i’m to fade into the background of my stagnant life then that’s probably for the best because all i do is make things worse and needlessly difficult even when i don’t mean to so it’s not like i really deserve to get better anyway

i’ve rambled enough and if i keep going it’s just going to get more whiny and pathetic so i’ll stop myself but i’m hoping maybe like i said if i can just...put these thoughts here then maybe i can make it through tomorrow without crying?

probably not, but it’s worth a shot, i guess. again, this may just all be temporary given my current mental state, but i’ve also been putting off therapy for a long time since before this week as is so...not sure that’ll really change any time soon. i had almost worked up to just doing the damn thing before the pandemic happened and then...well. feel like i might have missed my window of opportunity if i ever was going to do it because in some senses i’ve gotten better at managing all of this, i guess, but in other ways i feel like i’ve just fallen even further down the hole and trying to climb out feels like it’s guaranteed to just get me hurt even worse so i kind of want to just stay down here.

i’m trying not to give up completely or be totally hopeless about the whole thing, but at the same time...yikes!!!

[harrysdimples]

after being postponed from nov 2020 to oct 2021, the weeknd just rescheduled my tour date for the second time to oct 2022... also had a talk with my boss today about my deteriorating mental state after almost a year working from home + our increased amount of work, he was understanding but it’s not like anything is going to change at this point. truly feel like there’s no light at the end of the tunnel 😔 sorry if this is a bit a bit heavy, i just don’t know what to do ruth

i’m so sorry babe, I know it’s shit. I’ve been feeling pretty down lately with everything and this lockdown period has definitely hit me harder than others did. kind of feels like i’m just existing from one day to the next. you did the right thing in having that conversation with your boss and it’s good he is now aware of how you’re feeling and was sympathetic. even though you feel things might not change, even the simple fact that you’ve alerted him to the issues you’re experiencing was a change from him not knowing to him being aware of it. I think you’ve got to understand and remember that this period of time is not normal. I know the whole “unprecedented times” this is a bit of a meme (for good reason lmao) but it’s true. this is not something any of us anticipated to have to go through in our lifetime. the fact that you’ve got to this point and continue to survive day by day is an achievement in of itself and especially with your increased workload, you’ve done amazing and will CONTINUE to be amazing. I know I have those moments where it truly feels like there’s going to be no end to this, but just know you’re not alone in this and you should be so proud of yourself, I know i’m proud of you. I don’t have the words to be able to take all of this away and how much it’s impacting us both physically and mentally, but I hope I can offer some comfort in the fact that there will always be a community of people here to welcome you with open arms if you need to have a chat or vent to anyone here on my blog. sending you a ton of love ❤️

[bebewheezy]

Somebody Loves You

Notes: hi guys! so liam payne is apparently engaged now and 1- I WANNA GO TO THE WEDDING  2- it inspired me to write :) enjoy folks

word count:  1,386

My phone was buzzing manically on the coffee table in front of where I sat on the fluffy couch alone. Harry and I had been stuck in our LA home since March due to quarantine, and I was starting to become mad. We had seen hardly anyone besides one another for five months at least, and even though I had Harry with me the entire time, I felt lonely and almost as if our relationship was stuck in a rut. Even though I was most likely overthinking the entire situation, the thoughts of Harry feeling sick of having me around were still present. I couldn’t stop thinking that while we were alone together for this long, he had realized I wasn’t someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

These thoughts only increased as I checked my ever-beeping phone. My Twitter was exploding with tags and hashtags that were trending. All of them were about the same thing: Liam Payne was reportedly engaged to his girlfriend. I met Liam and his girlfriend a few times at different award shows and such, with him and Harry being close friends so long ago and still good friends now. 

My heart felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Two people I considered friends were in love, engaged, and I was questioning where my relationship even stood. Before I could become fully lost in my overbearing thoughts, Harry came into the TV room holding two glasses of wine and some popcorn. It was Friday night, and while we would usually be out for a whimsical dinner or at a bar with friends, our routine had changed into a movie night to catch up on films at the end of every week. Harry silently handed me one of the glasses and sat down beside me. His phone buzzed on the coffee table where mine sat not five minutes ago, and he made a face into his wine glass as he read the notification.

“Did you see that Liam is engaged?” He curiously glanced over to me.

“Yeah, my phone has been blowing up for the past half hour,” I spoke softly and took a sip of my wine. He must’ve sensed something was wrong with my mood as he set his phone down and turned his frame more towards me.

“Are you okay my love? You’ve seemed a little bit off the past few weeks,” His green orbs worriedly searched mine for any sign of distress, and unfortunately it was written all over my face.

“I don’t know,” I tore my head away from his intense gaze.

“You can talk to me about anything, love. This is an incredibly difficult time we’re currently facing and I don’t want you to hold your emotions back from me,” His free hand grasped mine while he continued to speak. “I know you tend to get all up in your pretty head about things, and I don’t want your mental state to deteriorate because you’re keeping everything bottled up.”

“I know, thank you for always being here to talk with me,” I said as I got comfortable next to him for our movie night. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready to talk just yet.”

“Well whenever you are ready, I’m here.”

While the night went on and we watched a handful of movies, the thoughts of loneliness and unlove got worse as I was left alone with them. I knew I was going to need to inform Harry soon, I was just terrified to admit my feelings. What was I going to do if my speculating was all correct? I don’t know how I could live knowing the one man I was fully head over heels in love with, didn’t want me like I wanted him. I went to bed that night unsure of my future and more distraught that I had been in months.

*****

I woke to sunlight peeking in through the cream colored curtains of our bedroom. I tried turning onto my opposite side in avoidance of the everwaking light, but to my dismay I was stopped by a tattooed arm pulling me closer to his warm body.

“Good morning, my darling. How did you sleep?” His groggy morning voice always made me weak in the knees and sent pangs through my chest.

“Not the best,” I admitted, if it was going to happen, I might as well get it over with so I could begin to sleep well in the coming weeks.

“And why is that love? You had me to keep you warm and cozy all night, you should’ve slept like a rock.”

“In my head again.”

“Do you want to talk about it yet?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ve just sort of been having doubts about our relationship and where we stand after quarantine ends.”

“What do you mean, love? Once quarantine is over, hopefully sooner rather than later, we’ll just try to go back to our regular life.” “So nothing’s changed during the five months of us being trapped in this house together?”

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Do you still love me?” I was trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay. “I feel like since you’ve only really seen me for the past five months, that you’ve realized you don’t love me anymore and I’m going to get my heart broken again like so many times before.”

“Y/N, why would you think that, love? I’m so sorry I led you to feel that way, I’m such a shit boyfriend,” He responded and pulled my head to his chest as the tears began to fall.

“This isn’t your fault,” I cried. “I’m just unconfident in myself and you can do so much better.”

“No, I really can’t do much better than you, my love,” He cooed and caressed my hair in a calming manner. “I was waiting until this was all over, but I supposed there’s no time like the present.”

Harry placed a kiss on the crown of my head and gave me a light squeeze before he rolled over and reached for his nightstand. I was left lying in our oversized bed, wiping stray tears from my flushed cheeks as he rummaged around for something in the bottom drawer. Once he finally stumbled upon it, he tried to quickly hide the velvet box behind his back before I could catch sight of it, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“What are you doing, Harry?” I questioned as I sat upright against the many fluffy pillows that lined the headboard.

“First I wanted to apologize again for making you so upset and in the dark about my emotions toward you. Y/N, you are the most wonderful, kind-hearted and loving person I’ve ever met, and trust me when I say that because I’ve met a lot of people in my day,” I spared a small laugh at that. “I’m just gonna get to the point now so, second, I want to spend the rest of my life with the best person in the entire fucking world.

After his final sentence, he crouched down onto his right knee and brought the little box out from behind his back.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He opened the small maroon box, and inside was a rock of a diamond. The gem itself was cut into a long rectangle, and shone brighter than the stars in the sky while the band was skinny and engraved with smaller jewels. It was the most perfect ring, simple, but just flashy enough to show off its worth, much like the man who had purchased it.

“Oh my god,” I covered my gaping mouth with my right hand. “Of course I’ll marry you Harry Edward, I knew I wanted to marry you after our second fucking date!”

He slipped the delicate ring onto my left hand and stared at it for a minute before kissing me harder than he ever had before.

“I can’t wait to make you mine for eternity. You’re going to look so goddamn beautiful with this ring on for the rest of your life, and I can’t wait for everyone to call you Y/N Styles.”

God, did it feel good when somebody loved you.

taglist:

@calleighat  @mukeillusions  @livlovesflowers 

[megabadbunny]

if we let go (5/?)

A lazy smile quirks Rose’s lips. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. She did say he was the one who let her in, after all. It’s just nice, she supposes, to be right about something for once. (It’s very nice to be right about him.)

Right after Journey’s End, Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. This chapter has lemons; visit ff.net for a citrus-free experience.

***

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

chapter five: you gave me a life i never chose

After what feels like a lifetime (but is, in actuality, a mere thirteen hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-six seconds), amidst a landslide of half-empty teacups and coffee mugs and medical-technical gear and bits and bobs, the medscreen finally (finally) begins to beep.

“Really?” murmurs the Doctor, straightening up from his slumped position over his research materials for the first time in hours. Hardly daring to believe, he reaches for the device with only the smallest amount of trepidation, mentally preparing himself for whatever he might find there. He flips the screen his way. And there, amidst a string of medical technobabble reassuring him of Donna’s stasis (respiratory and cardiopulmonary systems going a little faster than he’d like, but stable enough, considering), reads a string of text distinctly unlike the rest:

<oi>

<oi spaceman>

<you there>

Eyes widening, the Doctor reads the text again, over and over, barely able to process what he’s seeing (never mind that he engineered things for this very purpose—the fact that it all worked is nothing short of miraculous).

The device beeps again as new text blinks across the screen, bright white lines flashing cheerfully against the grey. 

<oi doctor i’m talking to you>

<i can only imagine you’ve got something to do with this>

<whatever this is>

<speaking of which, where the hell am i>

<what’s going on>

<why can’t i move>

<can anyone hear me here>

<hello>

<hELLo spaceman are you ThErE>

“Yes, yes,” the Doctor stammers immediately, out of instinct, more than anything—doubtful Donna can hear him right now, after all, even if he is stationed just a few feet away from her comatose self. Half-panicked, half-giddy beyond belief, the Doctor scrambles around in the technological viscera scattered over the medbay counter until he finds all the pieces he’s looking for (cables, clamps, Martha’s old mobile, a webcam the size of a thumbtack plucked from the year 2057, a simple jury-rigged electroencephalographic scope, the usual) before realizing that, oh, right, Donna would probably like an answer, wouldn’t she? and abandoning it all to type out a quick <<Yep, I’m here>> before he returns to the task at hand.

<great> flashes across the screen in response. <so you gonna tell me what the hell is going on? or where the hell i am? or why’s it so dark here? or why can’t i move?>

<<Why, hello, Donna! It’s nice to hear from you, too>> the Doctor types into the medscreen, even as he smiles. <<No need to thank me for saving your brain from immediate and irreversible liquidation, original memories fully intact and pristine. The dulcet vision of your digital voice is the only accolade I need.>>

<glad to hear it>

<now answer my questions please dumbo>

<<You’re still on the TARDIS. You can’t move or see or otherwise process external stimuli because you’re in a medically-induced coma.>>

<well isn’t that wizard> reads the immediate response in a tone so reminiscent of Donna that the Doctor can’t help but laugh. <you wanna tell me why i’m in a coma?>

Smiling, the Doctor shakes his head. <<In the wake of the metacrisis-event, due to the external memories’ rapid deterioration of your brain, I’ve telepathically isolated the offending elements from your neural network and blocked them from re-entry>> he explains, typing between bouts of plugging in cables and adjusting dials on the electroencephalographic scope. <<Unfortunately, the best way to maintain the integrity of the telepathic blocks involves keeping your conscious mind safe from anything that might trigger the memory of the offending elements, which involves putting you in a persistent vegetative state until we can find a way to safely and permanently extract the metacrisis material from your temporal and parietal lobes, without damaging any of the surrounding tissue or neural pathways. Got it?>>

If the medscreen could convey an exasperated sigh, the Doctor imagines it would right about now. <in english please> the screen flashes at him.

The Doctor grins madly as he works, relief bubbling up in his head until he’s almost dizzy from it. He’s never been so happy for a companion to do the digital equivalent of offering him nothing but a blank stare; no more babbling about macrotransmissions or shatterfrying or mountains that sway in the breeze means his telepathic blocks are holding firm. That means no more Time Lord knowledge overwhelming human brains, which means that, for the time being anyway, Donna’s safe.

Which means, he realizes as he fishes his specs out of his pocket, that he may actually have a chance of saving her.

<<My memories are still in your head and you’re stuck in a coma until I can remove them>> he types to Donna. <<But don’t worry, in the meantime I’ve rigged up this handy-dandy medical transceiver and plugged it directly into your subconscious so we can still communicate!>>

<oh god no> flashes across the screen. <doctor do NOT make me a brain in a computer, i expressly forbid it>

<<Wouldn’t dream of it>> the Doctor replies before affixing the tiny webcam to the side of his specs.

<good>

<why do you need to talk to me anyways>

<or talk to my brain or my subconscious or whatever>

<not like i’ll be any help, can’t see or hear or do anything>

“Oh, ye of little faith,” murmurs the Doctor, slipping on his glasses and fiddling with the settings on Martha’s mobile phone. “When have I ever let you down?”

“That tatty old suit lets down my sense of fashion every single day,” mutters a digitized version of Donna’s voice, and the Doctor laughs, now, properly laughs. A spluttered sound of indignant surprise erupts from the webcam’s built-in speaker, and the Doctor laughs harder, imagining the shock that would sweep across Donna’s face right now, were it capable.

“Oh my god!” shouts Donna’s voice from the speaker, disjointed and tinny in that way that voices-projected-from-telephonic-devices often are, but still her voice, nonetheless. “Doctor, I can hear you!”

“Yes!”

“And you can hear me!” yells Donna’s voice.

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor shouts gleefully in reply.

“But how? I’m still asleep, aren’t I? I still can’t move or see anything—”

“Well, then,” says the Doctor, fiddling with more settings on the mobile as he smiles what may or may not be the universe’s smuggest grin, “Let there be light!”

He hits one last button and is rewarded with a high-pitched screech not unlike one that might rip out of a pterodactyl. “I can see!” Donna shrieks, and silently, the Doctor adjusts the webcam-speaker’s volume, lest Donna’s voice split his eardrums or manage to wake her own comatose body somehow. “Oh my god, I can see the TARDIS—her walls, I mean—and cabinets and lights and—you’re in the medbay, right? Oh, you are—cos that’s me over there on the bed, isn’t it? Oof, I look a bit peaky, don’t I? But how on earth—?”

“Oh, it was just a small matter of rigging together the right materials to tap into your subconscious mind. Simple enough, if you’ve got a spare mobile and travel-size electroencephalographic scope lying around. A direct line, if you will,” the Doctor laughs. “Doesn’t get much more direct than this!”

“This is bonkers, absolutely bonkers. I can’t believe you managed it!”

“Didn’t I mention, though?” asks the Doctor as he springs up, feeling lighter than he has in days—maybe weeks, maybe longer. “I’m brilliant!”

“You really are,” Donna concedes, and in any other situation, the Doctor might feel mildly insulted at how surprised she sounds to admit it. “So, what do we do, now? What’s the next step?”

The Doctor considers as he darts over to Donna’s body on the bed, double- and triple-checking her vitals, just to be sure. “Well, now that the imminent danger has passed, I suppose it’s time to do a little research, scan our local solar systems to locate the equipment we need to finish the memory extraction.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner I stop being a vegetable, the better, and if anyone can fix that, it’s you.”

No, not just him, a stubborn little voice at the back of the Doctor’s head insists. Not him. Them. Because in all honesty, the only reason he’s got any hope at all right now is all because of—

He chuckles, silently chiding himself. He really can be an idiot, sometimes. Doubting himself. Doubting her. He should know better than to distrust Rose’s instincts, whether they’re telling her to help Donna or bolt back for the TARDIS at the last second or anything else; for all he knows, her intuition could very well be a side effect borne of the Bad Wolf phenomenon (but really, he suspects it’s all just her and her gut, in the end. She’s surprisingly insightful, for a human. Always has been. He’d do well to remember that, he thinks).

Looking down at the medscreen, at the numbers displayed across its surface showing a significant calming-down of Donna’s vitals, the Doctor softens. Rose was right, in more ways than one. The Doctor reminds himself to apologize to her at the first available opportunity—though really, he thinks as he stows the medscreen and all of its connected parts safely inside his pockets, wouldn’t she prefer that he showed her how right she was, instead of telling her?

“Hang on, how come my hands look like your hands?” asks Donna, interrupting his thoughts. “I mean, obviously they’re your hands, but it’s the wrong angle, like they’re coming out of me instead of you. Like a first-person videogame thing. Am I seeing the world through your eyes, right now?”

“Near enough,” the Doctor replies cheerfully.

“Okay, but—but not like. Not literally though. Right?”

“Strictly figuratively,” the Doctor laughs. “Don’t worry, Donna. It’s all in the glasses.”

“Oh, thank god. The thought of accidentally seeing you naked again makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll leave you in the coma after all,” says the Doctor.

 ***

 Rose awakes with a start, tensing at the weight pressed against her, the unfamiliar room surrounding her. Her first thought is that she must have been knocked unconscious during a jump gone wrong—not terribly common, but it’s happened before—but as her eyes adjust to the semi-dark, taking in everything in the room from the curved ceiling to the carpeted floor to the telltale rough coral walls, recognition slowly filters in, and she remembers.

She made it. She made it back to this universe. She made it back to the TARDIS, back to the Doctor. (Doctors, plural? Both of them, then.) And he—

Oh. That weight, that body pressed close—that must be him. One of them is with her right now, isn’t he? Because this is his room, isn’t it? And if she turns over, Rose will see the Doctor lying in bed next to her, won’t she?

Her limbs still thick and heavy with sleep, Rose lazily rolls over to find the Doctor (the human one, she remembers, because that’s a thing, now), curled on his side and fast asleep. Slumber-tousled hair tumbles over a forehead smooth from worry, the Doctor’s mouth parted just slightly, his eyes shuttered, as if in prayer. It’s strange seeing him like this, not because of their years apart, not even because they’re both lying in his unfamiliar bed, but because Rose is casting about in her memories to recall the last time she ever saw him so quiet and unguarded, and she’s coming up empty-handed. She has seen him sleep before, technically; that’s not new. But she has never seen him really, properly vulnerable, in this body or any other. She’s never seen him look so human.

Human or not, it’s surreal to be so close to the Doctor right now, after so many years apart. So Rose just watches him for a moment, just taking everything in. Part of her can’t believe it, even though he’s right here, right in front of her. It’s all almost too much to absorb.

(Only almost, though. God, he’s pretty like this. Then again, he’s pretty much always pretty.)

Probably she should go ahead and get up (escape, she doesn’t think, before the moment swells too much in its sentimentality, before he wakes up and goes flighty, before she grows vulnerable herself), but struck with a sudden curious need, Rose shifts in the bed instead, one hand lifting up. She places her palm flat against the Doctor’s chest, gently, feeling its rise and fall with each deep inhale and soft exhale, before tracing a line down to the bottom of his ribcage. She can sense his heart beating, behind layers of tee shirt and skin and muscle and bone, pulsing quietly almost in time with her own.

It’s all very different. But not bad different.

“I thought I was the rude one,” mutters the Doctor, eyes still solidly shut.

Rose twitches. “Huh?”

“I thought,” the Doctor repeats, eyes sliding slowly open, “that I was the rude one.”

There goes her plan. “Oh, don’t worry,” Rose chuckles. “You’re plenty rude.”

“Says the person trying to tickle me awake.”

Cringing, Rose starts to draw her hand back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

The Doctor stops her hand before it can withdraw very far, anchoring her fingers and palm solidly back against his chest. “S’all right,” he mumbles, blinking sleep away. “Probably a good time to get up anyway.”

He’s right.

Neither of them moves.

“Did you end up getting any actual sleep last night?” Rose asks.

“Do you know, I think I did, after…” the Doctor starts to say, and trails off. Rose can practically see the memory of the night before as it replays in his mind, and admittedly, it’s a little difficult to tell in the semi-dark, but is he blushing? “After you came in,” he says hurriedly. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” says Rose, hiding a grin. “I’m good.”

He smiles at her then, almost shyly. “Good.”

And that marks a good time to get up, Rose thinks. For her to put space between them before he has the chance to. 

(Except he still hasn’t moved his hand from hers. Palm pressed against his chest, Rose can feel his heartrate pick up beneath her fingers, and suddenly she’s very warm, and moving seems difficult.)

“But, like I said, probably good to go ahead and get up,” the Doctor says quickly, and Rose imagines that if his hand weren’t full of hers, he’d be nervously tugging on his ear right about now. “You know. Get the day started, and all that.”

“Probably. What time is it?”

At that, the Doctor blinks just a little too much, fully awake now. “Well,” he says, drawing the word out. “That’s sort of an interesting question, isn’t it? What time is it. Difficult to answer, considering the relativity of time (especially on the TARDIS), and taking into account that there’s no real universal chronometrical measurement or standard, and we’re really just relying on observations alone, which can vary greatly depending on the observers’ proximity to a gravitational mass—”

“You don’t know,” Rose realizes aloud.

After stuttering for a second, the Doctor closes his mouth. He shakes his head, the motion tight.

“Because of the metacrisis?

He nods.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it.

He shrugs. “It’s no worries.”

“Not even a few worries?” Rose asks, lips quirking in a small smile.

“Eh, I’m sure I can manage without the time sense. Plenty of species do. Now, the bypass, on the other hand...”

As if on cue, the Doctor starts to yawn, only to snap his mouth shut halfway through. “Oh,” he says, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Rose, I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think I might have morning breath now.”

Rose chuckles. “Many of us do.”

“Well, isn’t that wizard,” the Doctor says drily. “Being human is just wonderful, can’t imagine why I never tried it long-term before.”

“It’s not all bad, you know.”

“Hmph. I’ll believe it when I see it,” he grumps. “Or hear it or smell it or feel it or taste it, as the case may be.”

Humming thoughtfully, Rose takes a moment to consider. Her fight-or-flight instinct is still murmuring quietly in the background, telling her that this is as good a moment as any to end the conversation, go ahead and get up and wash up and go about their day, whatever it may bring; the sooner she leaves this warm little cocoon, after all, the sooner Rose will be able to build her walls back up, retreat back to safe territory. Before things get out of hand. Before she has a chance to get hurt again. (Before any of them do.)

She ignores it.

“That,” Rose says, scooting just a little bit closer to him (just the littlest bit closer, mind), “sounds like an awful lot like a challenge.”

“Oh?” asks the Doctor, eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Yes,” she says solemnly, nodding. “Tell me: what do your human eyes see?”

“Plenty of stuff. It’s not my physical sensory capabilities that concern me.”

“Humor me.” Rose curls her fist against his chest. “What do you see right now?”

Beneath his ribcage, Rose swears she feels his pulse skip a beat. “Well,” says the Doctor, “not to belabor the obvious, but I see you. In my bedroom. In my bed, of all places.”

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Rose asks cheekily, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth.

The Doctor grins at her in a way that makes something flutter in her stomach. “Not bad at all,” he concedes.

Rose smiles. “And what can you hear?”

“All the same things you can, I imagine. Your voice, my voice, the TARDIS’ hum,” the Doctor counts off, “the buzz of the temporal-spacial equinometer, the quiet hiss of the life support system, faint overtures of the Vortex—”

“Right, of course I can hear all of that,” teases Rose, rolling her eyes.

“The sounds of you wriggling in the sheets like the squirmy little thing you are…”

With a laugh, Rose’s smile widens. “How’s about your nose?”

The Doctor wrinkles said nose again. “Aside from my aforementioned temporary halitosis, let’s see. It’s picking up on a hint of recycled oxygen courtesy of the TARDIS, traces of residual space matter from our time onboard the Crucible, traces of the toothpaste you used last night…”

He leans in closer, making a show of sniffing her hair. “Moringa oleifera, arginine, extracts of Fragaria ananassa, other components of your shampoo. Still partial to strawberry, hm?”

“Now you’re just showing off,” Rose laughs, and he laughs too, nodding enthusiastically.

They are very close now.

The Doctor hasn’t moved his hand, still holding hers against his chest, but that’s all right; Rose’s other hand is free, and, feeling brazen, she reaches up with it now, to run her fingers through the Doctor’s gloriously rumpled hair. If his hair is any different from his Time Lord counterpart’s, she can’t tell; it’s still thick, smooth, stupidly pretty. Her fingertips glance against his scalp first, scraping lightly after, and the Doctor’s eyes threaten to shutter closed, fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake.

“What do you feel?” Rose asks him.

The Doctor hums deep in his belly, the sound rumbling against Rose’s fingers. “Sleepy, if you keep doing that.”

Rose’s hand slowly drifts downward, tracing a path from the Doctor’s ear down to his shoulder, joining its counterpart on the Doctor’s chest.

“Suppose you’re going to suggest I eat some candy or a biscuit next,” the Doctor chuckles wryly. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Certainly. What better way to appeal to my sense of taste and thereby prove your point?”

Rose considers for just a split-second before she draws in close to kiss him. It’s impulsive, and her heart races in her ears for all that it’s a short and sweet and chaste kiss, but it’s worth it for the small sound of surprise the Doctor makes when her lips meet his, and the dazed look on his face when she pulls back.

The Doctor blinks at her. “Do you know,” he replies, just the tiniest bit breathlessly, “I might be willing to slightly revise my stance on my newfound humanity.”

“Just slightly?”

“Just a little bit,” the Doctor agrees before leaning in to return the kiss. His lips work softly against hers, the pressure light, relaxed, and Rose melts into it immediately, even as some distant part of her brain still reels in disbelief that this sort of thing happens, now, that this is something they can do—that they can see each other, and hear, and smell, and feel, and, as the Doctor’s lips part to grant entry to Rose’s tongue, taste. Rose’s tongue glances against his briefly before retreating and he chases after her, suddenly starving. Distantly, she thinks she should tease him that his morning breath isn’t that bad after all; presently, she wonders how the Doctor would react if she pulled off his boxers, if he would rather straddle or be straddled. Her hands fist in his tee-shirt, his pulse speeding up against her knuckles as she pulls him in until they’re so close, they’re nearly touching, the scant space between them nearly buzzing with the desire to be bridged.

The Doctor breaks the kiss long enough to catch his breath, and if Rose didn’t know any better, she’d think he was gasping. “We,” he starts to say, and swallows. Sighs. “Erm. We really should…”

“Get up now?” Rose supplies, but she doesn’t move away, closes the whisper of a gap between them instead.

“Hmm. We should,” says the Doctor, even as he bends down to press a kiss, featherlight, to the pulse point beneath Rose’s jaw.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she fights not to let her eyes fall shut. It’s impossible not to feel a little giddy at the closeness of him, the sudden sensation of their bodies sliding together, skin achingly close to skin; she wonders if that’s as true for him as it is for her, with all his fresh new cells and nerves buzzing beneath thin layers of clothing and pretense. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, hands slipping down to the elastic of his boxers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, last night was—”

“Unexpected, but inspired?” asks the Doctor as he kisses her neck.

“And probably a little too much, too soon,” Rose adds, playing with his waistband. “Better to ease into this sort of thing, right?”

“That would be very responsible of us.” 

“Yeah,” Rose pants as the Doctor insinuates one of his legs between hers. “We should take things slow. Make sure…”

“No one gets hurt?”

She slips a finger beneath his waistband. “Are you talking about the two of us, or—”

“Much as I hate to admit it, this equation has three variables.” The Doctor nips her collarbone, soothing the hurt with his tongue after, sending heat pooling deep in Rose’s belly. She fights the urge to grind down on the Doctor’s thigh. “And as much as I’d like to pretend it doesn’t matter,” the Doctor continues, as if he doesn’t notice how hot and wet she suddenly is, “the other me is bound to have conflicting thoughts about all of this.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t keep pushing me away,” says Rose, running a teasing thumb along his hipbone, relishing the feel of him stiffening against her.

“A fair and rational point,” the Doctor concedes, even as he shudders and kisses the swell of her breast, his lips warm and soft through the fabric of her shirt. “But I’m not sure how much rationality applies in situations like this.”

Rose pulls back enough to properly look at him. “He’s not the one who let me in,” she tells the Doctor, her gaze hard. “He’s not the one who stayed.”

“So is this a reward for me, or a punishment for him?” the Doctor asks. 

He doesn’t look angry, or sad. There’s no blame in his tone. His expression is perfectly neutral, like a scientist putting forth a vague hypothetical. Rose sees through it immediately.

“There’s no one else in this room,” she tells him, “but you, and me.”

The Doctor nods. “Good,” he breathes, and Rose kisses him again, fiercely this time. It’s a bruising thing, greedy even, but neither of them are complaining as Rose’s tongue slides over his, slick and warm and sweet. The Doctor groans into her mouth as her thigh brushes against his cock, as she finally surrenders to the urge to grind down on his leg; his fingers knot in her hair as he takes control of the kiss and it’s only a little frantic, the way they’re clinging to each other, and it’s awkward, this tangled mess of clothes and limbs, but it’s delicious, too, the friction and the need and the way the Doctor maybe-accidentally bites her lip when Rose’s hand slips into his boxers to stroke him from base to tip.

He’s hot in her hand, hot and hard and wonderfully human and his reactions are human too, as he abandons the kiss in favor of burying his face in the join of Rose’s neck and shoulder, panting, his hands flying down to clench her by the hips, pulling her into him. A moment later and he’s pulling at her tee shirt, dislodging her hand from his shorts so he can strip her shirt all the way up and off. After urging Rose onto her back, the Doctor takes just a second to appreciate the view, his eyes at half-mast and lips just parted, before he dips down to kiss her breasts. Swearing under her breath, Rose arches off the bed, into his touch; he rewards her with his fingers on one nipple and his mouth on the other, teasing both to stiff, sensitive attention.

His thigh is still wedged between hers and Rose grinds down wantonly, practically whimpering, grateful for the chance to relieve the mounting ache throbbing between her legs. She wants so badly to touch him again but it’s difficult, positioned the way they are, and it’s only made more difficult when his hand leaves her breast in favor of sneaking beneath the waistband of her borrowed boxers, brushing featherlight and tentative over the seam of her sex. At that point it’s almost impossible to think about anything but his mouth on her breast and his fingers gently stroking her and how it’s so good, it’s so good, it’s almost perfect, and she reaches down to guide him, push his fingers into her slick wet sex and show him how she likes to be fucked.

Rose clamps down on any cries that might try to escape as the Doctor picks up on her rhythms, fingers fucking her gently at first, then—at her grasp tightening on his wrist—more, harder, until sweat starts beading on Rose’s forehead and breasts and she can feel her climax tensing deep in her belly, coiling tighter with each delicious thrust. The Doctor is a fast learner. (Of course he is.) But she wants more.

“Off,” Rose says breathlessly, pushing at the Doctor’s waistband until he seems to get the hint, propping himself up on one elbow as he removes his hand from Rose’s boxers. But instead of immediately disrobing, he looks at his hand thoughtfully for a moment, and even in this dim light, Rose can see how slick his fingers are, nearly glistening from her. She has approximately half a second to feel embarrassed before the Doctor’s tongue darts out to taste his fingers. Rose just stares as he plunges his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the tips, like he might do with a strange new specimen he just encountered, or perhaps one of his very favorite jams. He hums appreciatively and Rose only just manages to stifle a whimper as renewed heat floods between her legs.

The Doctor glances up at her, removing his fingers from his mouth with an obscene smack. “Rude?” he asks innocently.

“Very,” Rose says, pulling herself up by his shirt so she can kiss him again. He tastes like sex. Like sex and something sweet and something musky and animal, primal. He tastes incredible. Struck with indescribable need, Rose pulls at the Doctor’s clothes and this time he definitely gets the hint, sitting back just long enough to strip off his shirt and boxers before returning to help Rose wriggle out of her (his) shorts and Rose might knee him in the ribs a little but before she has a chance to apologize he’s covering her mouth with his, claiming any words that might tumble out. Settling between her thighs (and god, but that’s glorious, the feel of them sliding together, skin on skin at last), the Doctor urges her legs over his hips and around her waist. After teasing her for a moment with his hand, fingers sliding through slick heat to make sure she’s ready for him, absolutely sure—and she absolutely is, almost embarrassingly so, though she can feel herself tightening with anticipation—he pushes inside.

The fullness is almost overwhelming. Rose bites down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

He draws in a sharp breath. “Is that—?”

“It’s good,” Rose stutters against his neck. “It’s good. You’re good.”

The Doctor leans back to look at her, concerned. He thinks he hurt her. Rose shakes her head—he didn’t hurt her—well he did, just a little bit—well, she’ll be a little sore later—but good sore—and she doesn’t mind, she was a little overeager herself, she just tensed up is all, excluding last night it’s been a little while since she’s done any of this, and this is all stuff that can be discussed later, and don’t you dare stop now, don’t you dare—and she pulls him down by the shoulders for a kiss.

“Don’t stop,” Rose pants into his mouth.

“Right,” he says, distracted, between kisses and bites. It’s a question, not a declaration; for her, not for him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push further, though Rose can tell he’s aching to. His whole body is humming under her hands, sweating with the effort of holding back. But she’s adjusted to him now, enough that the stinging has given way to warmth and she really, really wants him to start moving. Her hips roll forward, pushing him in deeper, until Rose can feel the full length of him inside her. The Doctor groans at the back of his throat.

“Good?” Rose prompts, chest heaving.

“It’s—ah—good,” he grits out. His hips start moving, grinding against her with slow, long thrusts, his eyes clenching shut. Rose suspects this is the moment his respiratory bypass would be kicking in, in the other body. “Very good,” he gasps.

They fall into a rhythm, pushing and pulling and sliding together, fingernails digging into each other’s backs and hips and shoulders—they’re definitely going to find each other’s marks, later. But for now, Rose arches up and kisses the Doctor’s throat, mouth drawing a path up to his jaw, lips pressing against the space behind his ear until she can feel his heartbeat hammering there. She nips at the sensitive flesh and hears him bite back a curse; she grins so he can feel her teeth on his skin. The Doctor slides his hand back between them and his thrusts pick up in speed and urgency. Tension starts building up again, low in Rose’s abdomen, down where they’re joined, where he’s teasing them both. Little shocks of pleasure ripple through her, previews before the main event. 

It’s almost too much, the sensory overload—she very nearly wants to push him away, wants the maddening tension to stop, wants to shatter into a thousand glittering golden pieces. She bucks against him wildly, her toes curling at the feeling of him meeting her stroke-for-stroke, her breath leaving her in a staccato. Their exhales are punctuated by gasps and groans as they clutch at each other, Rose reaching up to drag her fingers through his hair again, her fingernails scraping against his scalp. She feels his responding hum deep in her own sternum and pulls him up for a kiss, mouth open, tongue sliding against his.

After a moment, the Doctor breaks off the kiss, his face twisted in concentration. “Oh,” he gasps out, his voice ragged and husky, words breaking in the air. “Oh, Rose. Oh, fuck.”

Now it really is too much. Rose lets out a shout and her eyes slam shut as she comes, shuddering, muscles clenching deliciously around the Doctor. She arches off the bed, scrambling at the Doctor’s back for purchase as he empties into her with a muffled groan. His thrusts slowing to a stop, the Doctor slumps over her, only to roll off onto his back immediately afterward, chest and stomach heaving as he gasps air back into his lungs.

It’s very quiet in the room, except for how they’re both panting like they just ran a marathon. Lightheadedness swells up in Rose’s skull, complementing the something that feels an awful lot like tenderness settling nicely behind her ribs.

She tries to shut that line of thought down before it can get too far. Because any minute, Rose thinks, he’ll spring up; time to go, time to move on to the next great adventure, time to pretend none of this ever happened. That’s how he would have reacted before, she knows (or she suspects, rather, as if he would have even let things progress so far, before), and there’s no reason to pretend he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing now, last night’s venture notwithstanding. That, Rose reasons somewhere in the pleasant post-sex haze that seems to have replaced her brain, was just a fluke. It’s much more like him to push her away, or to run. Which means it would be better for her, really, if she was the one who left first. So she’s going to. Before he does.

Any minute now.

A few long seconds tick by, and Rose can’t help but notice neither of them is moving away.

Huh. Imagine that.

Tentatively, eyes still fixed glasslike on the ceiling overhead, Rose extends her hand somewhere in the netherspace beside her, where she can hear the Doctor breathing, where she can feel the dip in the mattress that signifies his weight pressing down. She doesn’t have to reach far; her hand finds his almost instantly, or maybe his finds hers, their fingers twining together regardless of the sweat cooling on their skin. She offers a little squeeze, and the next exhale that leaves the Doctor sounds suspiciously like a sigh of relief.

A lazy smile quirks Rose’s lips. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. She did say he was the one who let her in, after all. It’s just nice, she supposes, to be right about something for once. (It’s very nice to be right about him.)

“I must say,” says the Doctor, still sounding just the littlest bit winded, “you make a very compelling argument in favor of this whole humanity business.”

“Damn right I do,” Rose mutters, and they both laugh.

 ***

 Grinning ear-to-ear, it’s all the Doctor can do to keep from running as he strides down corridor after corridor toward his bedroom, hands in pockets and a whole heaping helping of pep in his step.

“Can’t help but notice this isn’t the way to the console room,” pipes up Donna’s voice from the webcam speaker.

“Nope,” says the Doctor, popping the p at the end. “Got to make the rounds first, wake up all the non-comatose humans. And I wouldn’t mind a moment to freshen up in the bath as well. And yes, I will take off the glasses first,” he says before Donna has a chance to.

“You better.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he laughs, reaching for the handle on the bedroom door. “I’ll make sure nothing has a chance to offend your delicate—”

The sound of laughter from inside the bedroom stills his hand. 

...human sensibilities, he thinks and forgets to say, but it doesn’t matter. The Doctor fully expected to open the door and see his room, painted dark by synthetic night and occupied by a bed and one (1) singular sleeping human—which, of course, is still a strange thing to see, this whole other version of his current self outside the confines of a mirror or any other reflective surface, but still: expected. What he did not expect, however, was not just one human in his room, but two. And after the events of last night, he certainly did not expect to hear either of them laughing. And apparently together.

To be fair, it isn’t the sound that sends his stomach plummeting so much as the implications accompanying it.

Probably he should turn and go, give them some privacy, but he’s too busy lingering and simultaneously chiding himself for lingering. He and Rose shared a bed plenty of times before—well, not always a bed, per se, sometimes more of a bedroll or a cot or a prison bunk or the occasional pile of prickly sneeze-inducing hay—so there’s no reason he should be standing and staring like this, no reason at all for him to be gaping at the door to his room like some kind of slack-jawed idiot. It doesn’t matter what they might or might not have got up to in there, besides sleeping. He’s a Time Lord, for goodness’ sake. He doesn’t—he can’t—care about any of this. He’s better than all this. He’s got to be.

“Wow,” pipes up Donna, cutting through the sluggish silence like a knife through jelly, and the Doctor jerks back from the door before the sharp sound of her voice has a chance to disturb anyone and make the situation even more awkward than it already is. “They didn’t waste any time at all, did they?”

The Doctor does not reply, preoccupied with collecting some thoughts and working overtime to push others away, racing to put as much distance between himself and his room as possible. This doesn’t change anything, he knows. He’s still got things to take care of. He still has research to do. He still has to help Donna. He still…

Jaw set, he grits his teeth against the unwelcome feelings trying to swell up uncomfortably in his throat. What’s wrong with him? Isn’t this what he planned for? Isn’t this what he designed?

(Isn’t this more or less what he knew would happen, when he pushed her away for the umpteenth time? When he told her she wasn’t welcome here, with him?)

“Doctor?” asks Donna’s voice, unusually quiet, now. “Are you all right?”

The Doctor shakes his head in an attempt to clear the nonsense away. “Of course I am,” he replies. “I’m always all right.”

 ***

 He knows he should feel guilty, on some level, allowing himself any measure of happiness while Donna’s in crisis and his other self is so busy tending to her. But the human Doctor is finding it increasingly difficult to dampen his grin whenever Rose so much as glances his way, and when she returns his smile, lashes fluttering and lips curving shyly upward as the two of them make their way to the console room, it takes every ounce of the Doctor’s considerable willpower to keep himself from pulling her into the universe’s tightest, happiest hug. If he were a cynical man (and goodness knows, at times, he has been), he’d chalk up all this giddiness to the postcoital hormones fizzing pleasantly in his veins. Just chemistry, pure and simple. But right now, he’s fairly certain the only chemistry involved here is how hopelessly drunk he is on her.

Of course, then they step into the console room, and the Doctor is forcibly reminded that, much like with actual alcohol, when humans forget to pace themselves, afterward they get to deal with fun little things like hangovers and other delightful consequences.

“There you two are!” pipes up his other self, darting about the control desk, flipping switches and pulling levers. “I was starting to think you’d sleep the whole day away, the both of you. Of course, Rose, you always did sleep like the dead, metaphorically speaking—you could put Donna’s coma to shame—but it’s surprising even to me how quickly your particular brand of circadian rhythms has spread to those around you. Suppose it only makes sense, given the matching human physiologies and all. Still, you two missed quite a lot while you were out, so you’ve got a bit of catching-up to do, the both of you.”

He sounds cheerful enough, bordering on oblivious, but this is a manner the human Doctor remembers all too well, recognizes with startling clarity once viewed from the outside—he’s just a little too nonchalant, just a little too casual, yet somehow manic at the same time as he makes a show of checking monitors and typing commands and pressing buttons, perhaps, just a little harder than he needs to, unable to look either of them in the eye as he does so.

He already knows. Somehow, he’s figured it all out. He knows everything. Of course he does.

Speaking of hangovers, the Doctor’s starting to feel just the littlest bit queasy.

“How’s Donna doing?” he calls out anyway, ignoring the sick feeling twisting in his stomach.

“Oh, right as rain,” Donna’s voice chirps out of the blue. “Thanks for asking!”

Rose and the Doctor both jump. “Donna?” asks Rose in disbelief, glancing around the console room as if Donna may manifest from thin air at any moment. “Donna, was that you? Where are you? What’s—”

“You rigged her up to a medical transceiver, didn’t you?” the Doctor realizes immediately. “And it worked?”

“Apparently,” says Donna. “‘Course I’m still stuck in the medbay, still put under and all that. But he’s got a camera or something sort of rigged up to his specs, so even though I’m asleep, I still can see and hear everything he does. Isn’t that genius?”

“Wow,” Rose breathes. “Are you all right, Donna? You’re not still in pain, or anything?”

“Can’t feel a thing. Could probably use an extra blanket, though, knowing how cold he keeps the place.”

Laughing, Rose shifts her focus to the other Doctor, shaking her head in wonder. “This is incredible,” she says earnestly. “God. You’re brilliant.”

“Thanks,” replies the other Doctor with a grin that’s just a little too tight. “Of course, it’s just the first step of a much longer process, it isn’t exactly a tenable long-term solution to keep Donna rigged up like this—”

“No brain-in-a-computer for me, ta.”

“—but it’s a good first step nonetheless.”

“What’s step two?” asks Rose.

“Step two for me is scanning the nearby systems to find the equipment needed to extricate the offending material safely from Donna’s brain,” replies the Time Lord Doctor, tilting his head distractedly at the monitor as he types in another command. “Step two for you lot, I suppose, is whatever you want.”

“Great,” says Rose. “We want to help you.”

“No need,” the Doctor insists. “I’ve got it all under control. And you know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen. Speaking of, have you two eaten yet? The galley’s fairly well-stocked at the mo, lots of good proteins and complex carbohydrates at your disposal. I’m sure you two are famished after everything you’ve both got up to last evening. Humans tend to rack up quite the appetite, activities like that.”

The Doctor’s blood pressure drops like a stone. He glances at Rose to find her face carefully composed, her earlier excitement already fading like it was never there. 

“You talking about everything with the Daleks and the end of the world?” Rose asks coolly. “Or the sex?”

If she were physically present, the Doctor imagines Donna’s jaw would drop open at that, at the bold frankness of it. Now the blood comes rushing back into his cheeks til he thinks he might catch fire from it. Rubbish human body and its rubbish autonomic nervous responses.

His other self does not look away from the monitor in front of him. “I’m sure the latter is absolutely none of my business,” he says pleasantly.

“You’re right. It’s really not.”

“Yeah, it’s not really any of my business either,” Donna pipes in. “So could we maybe turn the transceiver off for this—”

“Fair enough,” interrupts the Time Lord Doctor, “but then that does beg the question of why you brought it up.”

“It was gonna come up sooner or later. I’d rather bring it all out into the open now. Or would you rather I made passive-aggressive jibes about you two and you lot and snide comments about late-night activities?”

“Honestly, it would be delightful if we didn’t comment on any of this at all.”

“Great,” Rose laughs weakly. “So just ignore it and it’ll go away, just like we always used to do?”

“That’s what you came back for, isn’t it? To get back to the way things used to be.”

“I came back for you!”

“All right,” says the human Doctor loudly, surprising himself and everyone else. “That’s enough!”

No one responds, the console room silent except for the glass column grinding quietly away over the hum of the TARDIS. The Doctor glances between Rose and his other self, pulse pounding sluggishly in his chest, the sick feeling in his stomach growing heavier with each passing moment. The other Doctor still won’t look at either of them.

“That’s enough,” he says again, quieter this time. “We can all have a good row about this later. Our priority right now is taking care of Donna. Everything else can wait. Right?” he adds to Rose, arching an eyebrow meaningfully.

Jaw set and gaze hard, eyes flashing, for a moment it seems like Rose is going to argue with him. But she quickly relents, tension easing from her shoulders. “Right,” she says quietly, nodding.

“Right?” the Doctor snaps at his original self.

The Time Lord Doctor doesn’t look at him, too busy staring at his monitor. “Right in theory,” he murmurs, slowly. “But in practice…”

“What?” asks the human Doctor impatiently. “What is it?”

His original self scans the readings on the monitor again and again, as if different information may yield itself on repeat viewings. Whatever he sees there makes the tight, forced grin melt right off his face. His brow furrows in alarm.

“Doctor?” asks Rose, concerned, now.

In lieu of responding, the original Doctor pushes away from the control desk, racing toward the TARDIS doors. With a great heave, he throws them open, to reveal—

Nothing.

No planet surface beams at them from outside the TARDIS. There is no sun, no stars, no vortex. No light, no dark. No warm, no cold. An empty, silent, colorless expanse extends as far as the eye can see.

“Oh, no,” murmurs Rose, clutching a hand to her stomach.

“What is that?” demands Donna’s voice. “Is something wrong with your glasses, Doctor? I can’t see.”

“That’s because there is, quite literally, nothing to see,” says the original Doctor quietly, shaking his head.

He turns to face Rose and the human Doctor, eyes wide with fear. “We never made it out to the other side,” he says. “We’re trapped in the Void.”

***

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter [forthcoming]]

***

P.S. I would like to give a big shout-out to the absolutely wonderful @tenroseforeverandever​​ @goingtothetardis​​ @hanluvr​​ @ladydiomede​ @wordmusician @gallifreygirl81 @OH @super_powerful_queen_slayyna and absolutely anyone who ever said something nice about this story or especially if you encouraged me to continue it. I’m sorry this chapter was three years in the making (!!!!) but it is heartily dedicated to y’all lovely lovely peaches! <3 <3 <3

[franstastic-ideas]

Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

Wraithtale AU - Sans and Gaster haven’t seen eye-to-eye for a while now; even small conversations between the two can feel like an uphill battle. When the existence of shadow monsters is revealed to the people of Ebott Town, Gaster forbids Sans to make any contact with them. To spite him, Sans decides that he’s going to become besties with a monster girl – Frisk. He probably could have handled his introduction better, though. Now she thinks you’re a creeper, Sans.

Word Count: 20,600

Warnings: Family drama, some mild body horror, repeating themes of poor self-worth and esteem, and one minor curse that's repeated twice.

It's been fine weather yesterday and today, so we watched the clouds.

It's weather that makes you lazy, and slowly closes your eyes.

It seems it's hard to remember "that" so easily now,

As we've been getting older ever since...

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 "Sans." A familiar stern-sounding voice said from behind him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"well crap…" Sans thought.

Things had not gone according to plan. If they had, he would have been out of the house and far away from the old man before he even knew he had left. But no, Gaster just had to be on top of his game today. Why hadn't he recalled that today was Gaster's day off? Now he remembered: it was because his father didn't bother telling him anything anymore, unless it was about another one of Sans's screw-ups. It seemed like he couldn't do anything right anymore in his father's eyes.

Home was supposed to be where the heart is, the one place in the world where you felt most comfortable and safe. But lately, this place didn't feel like home anymore to Sans.

Sans wanted to retort that it was none of his business, but he was reminded of his younger brother and his sincere and earnest wish for the two of them to get along again, so he held himself back, albeit begrudgingly.

He would try to make this work, if only for him.

"c'mon, sans. do it for paps…" He mentally urged himself to be civil.

"well hiya, pops! didn't see ya when i came through. sure is some great weather that we're having this morning!"

"ok, that sounded fake." Sans could have gagged at his clearly faux overly cheery tone; that didn't sound like him at all.

"Sans, it's eleven thirty. It's almost noon."

"but we're still in the a.m. hours, and if we were at grillby's right now he'd still be serving breakfast, so it's still morning in my books."

Now that sounded more like himself.

"Okay then, let's agree to disagree. Anyhow, you're avoiding my question and I want an answer: where are you going, Sans?"

"i was going outside."

"Yes, anyone with two brain cells could see that!" Gaster was losing his patience. "Allow me to rephrase my previous question – where are you going outside?"

"i dunno. i might go see alph and 'dyne, bro and i might work some jobs around town, i might go to grillby's for lunch…" Sans prattled off everything he thought Gaster wanted to hear and then finished it off with something he knew he didn't want to hear. "pretty much anywhere that isn't here."

Sans had to stop himself from stomping as he made his way towards the front door. When he reached for the doorknob, his father's voice halted him once more.

"…You really hate me that much, don't you?"

"i didn't say that. you know i didn't say anything like that, so quit trying to guilt trip me."

It had taken every ounce of Sans's willpower not to raise his voice; he had already failed Papyrus's request for them to be civil towards each other, and it made him feel ashamed even though his brother wasn't here to witness their latest spat. But he and Gaster had been at each other's throats even more than usual for the past few days and Sans needed to get out and clear his head before he said or did something he would regret, and Gaster himself was making this harder to do than necessary.

He didn't hate his father, but Sans didn't think he could ever love him as he once had.

"You're going out wearing that?" Gaster pointed at his blue hoodie.

"yeah, i am. i always do, don't i?"

"It's 90 degrees fahrenheit. You could suffer from heat stroke wearing that. Take it off."

"i'll drink water." Sans all but growled before swinging the door open and shutting it behind him with a slam.

Once he was out of the house and far enough away, he took a shuddering breath. He had grown so furious that if he had stayed even a second longer, he was sure he would have lost his temper. Nothing looked right to Sans when he was angry – colors and shapes blended together and blurred. He couldn't even speak coherently when his temper reached a certain point.

He hated feeling like this – he felt like some sort of wild animal. No, something that went beyond man or beast.

He remembered the breathing excercises Toriel had taught him.

In. One… Two… Three…

Out. Exhale. Slowly.

Repeat.

He did so until he felt the negative emotions leave his body enough to regain his thoughts, silently sending thanks to Toriel for her assistance even when she couldn't be there. He wouldn't have forgiven himself if someone had come across him and he snapped at them while in that state.

Sans looked down at the sleeves of his hoodie and he couldn't deny that it did feel too warm at times to wear it, especially now since it was summer. Before, he had been reluctant to part with it simply because it was his favorite article of clothing. But now… not wearing it wasn't an option. And Gaster knew that. And yet he had spoken as if he were exasperated with him wearing it constantly.

"no, I'm not taking it off, because i can't! and i wouldn't have to wear it all the time if it weren't for you!" He had wanted to scream.

But deep in his heart, he knew he shouldn't and couldn't place the blame on Gaster. As angry and hurt as he was with him, as much as their relationship had deteriorated, he couldn't blame his father for it.

It was an accident.

And it had been four months since the accident, but sometimes Sans could still feel the wounds inflicted upon him with the same intensity of pain as the day he received them.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

After calming down considerably, Sans had decided to go to Grillby's for lunch after all. He would probably do everything on the list of things he gave Gaster before he left, but there was also something he planned to do that he didn't mention – Gaster would blow his top if he discovered Sans's newest pasttime.

"Hey… look at that guy over there." Sans heard someone whisper not so discreetly behind him – an out of towner, most likely a tourist that dropped in Grillby's as a rest stop before continuing on their merry way, probably to the big public beach a few towns over.

"You mean the one wearing the coat in this weather?"

"Yeah, that one. He ordered, like, three burgers when he clearly doesn't need them. I mean, just look at him! What a fatass."

Sans flinched in his seat, but he chose to ignore them and continue eating.

His burger didn't taste as good as it did before…

"Hey, I think he heard you."

"Do you think I care? I'm just telling the truth. He can't get mad over that."

"Excuse me, ladies." A low, smooth masculine voice interjected – Grillby, the restaurant's owner and one of Sans's longtime friends, had chosen to leave his position behind the counter and intervene.

"Y-Yes?" The first woman stuttered, both out of being caught badmouthing another customer and out of shock from seeing Grillby's handsome face up close – some citizens of the town and smitten passerbys still wondered to this day why he settled on becoming a cook for his profession and not a male model instead.

"I do not condone such behavior within the walls of my establishment, nor outside them if I can help it." His tone was polite, yet firm. "If you cannot act like civilized well-mannered individuals, then please leave the premises and never return."

The lady seemed offended and her company embarrassed, trying to make herself look small in the booth where they were seated. The first woman dug into her purse and slammed some money onto the table then grabbed her friend roughly by the arm and dragged her out the door, muttering a colorful string of curses under her breath that Sans was surprised he hadn't called her out for.

"aw, grillbz, ya didn't have to do that."

"They were being rude. It's restaurant protocol to toss out discourteous and troublesome customers. And… they were speaking terribly about my friend."

"you can't throw out everybody that calls me a fatass, grillbz. it's bad for business."

"Language. And perhaps not, but I can certainly try." Grillby ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, the red and orange waves of locks almost resembling the flickering of flames when in motion. "And I don't care about business when it was none of theirs to be making unwarranted comments on others' appearances, in this case towards you. That's harrassment, Sans, and I don't know why or how you tolerate such actions on a regular basis."

"eh, you get used to it after a while of hearing it so much."

"But you shouldn't have to." Grillby sighed, knowing that this conversation was leading to nowhere, as per usual whenever they entered this subject matter.

Sans received large portions of unwarranted gossip, especially since he returned from college with no degree and refused to speak of why he was back early, deflecting any and all questions asked about the issue. Sans had left the town and was supposed to have majored in the field of science like his father, but he, like many others in Ebott Town that aimed for higher things, ended up coming back. Grillby was one of them as well – he had left town for culinary school, but he wasn't gone long before he set up his restaurant here. Whenever someone left Ebott supposedly for good only to come back, that person became the center of gossip for a while.

But aside from the rumors circulating around him about his sudden departure from college, Sans usually heard insulting remarks about his body or less than positive remarks on his mismatched eyes. Sans wasn't obese or even fat, but he could definitely be considered chubby. Even so, he was nowhere near as lazy as most thought him to be – he could run fast enough to keep up with more thin-bodied friends, and a great deal of what others thought was fat was in fact muscle that came from years of wrestling with Undyne. You don't get to play rough with Undyne like he had and not get some muscle mass out of it.

Then there was his bone structure – he had naturally thick bones. He had first found this incredibly odd and didn't believe Gaster or Toriel when he was told this until the latter had Sans take an x-ray and showed it to him. It seemed so unlikely to him because Gaster wasn't built like him, nor was Papyrus, and from the few dusty old pictures he could find of his mother, she wasn't thick bodied either. When he compared himself to them, he looked like an outsider, nothing like them at all aside from skin color and perhaps his eyes; one of them, anyway.

"i guess every family's got to have a member that's ugly as sin. might as well have been me."

If it had to be himself or Papyrus that was burdened with an undesirable appearance, he would choose himself every time. Papyrus was blessed with all their father's good looks, and Sans was thankful for that. He would never have to deal with what Sans did so often.

That wasn't to say that Sans always rolled over and took the verbal abuse. Definitely not; there were times when his patience was finally pushed to the limit and the beast within was unleashed. The terrified and shocked screaming of those who brought forth this reaction from him was priceless, their expressions clearly showing that they didn't expect him to be capable of running, especially not at such a remarkable speed, and towards them with fists flying.

It was especially bad for the unlucky souls that provoked his wrath when Undyne was also in the vicinity. She would drop everything she was currently doing and not ask any questions at all before happily joining in on the pummeling. The fiery redhead didn't need to ask anything – if Sans was beating the living snot out of somebody, then they definitely deserved it.

If Alphys was also there, she would record the entire thing and then edit soundtracks from shounen action anime over the scene to show it to them later. Mettaton had wanted to upload the videos she collected onto the internet, the fame monster, but Sans immediately denied him the right to do so despite his whining and begging.

Even so, sometimes during the ensuing chaos, if he was also present, Mettaton liked to play announcer, commenting on the big ball of violence that was unfolding around him with increasing enthusiasm.

With friends like Sans had, Grillby wondered why anybody bothered trying to bully Sans anymore. He had seen the compilation video Alphys had sent him – Sans by himself could be an absolute beast when pushed far enough, but Undyne too? And the additional humiliation of Mettaton's added commentery along with Alphys recording and holding cinematic proof of the harasser's resulting beatdown? Someone would have to be an idiot to pick on Sans at this point, and unfortunately, there were still times where he would be surrounded by idiots.

Poor Papyrus – he would always try to put an end to the fighting if he happened to witness or catch wind of it. He disapproved of some of his friends' eagerness to start throwing punches and kicks, believing that violence wasn't the answer. He tried to take the adult approach and pull everyone aside to speak with and scold them on their behavior like the mom friend he was. Of course, the ones who evoked Sans's wrath in the first place weren't the least bit sorry for what they had done; sorry for getting thoroughly thrashed maybe, but not for their continuous unkind remarks that led to the situation in the first place.

Sans and Alphys could be guilted somewhat easily, but Undyne and Mettaton were different. Sans didn't like the disgusting feeling that washed over him once the built-up aggression had faded and his desire for instant karmic retribution inflicted on those who had agonized him had been satisified, and Alphys simply didn't like the idea of Papyrus being upset with her for any reason ever. Undyne, however, would hold firm to her actions, believing that anyone who was subject to the combined forces of her's and Sans's dukes most certainly had it coming. And Mettaton was an enabler when it came to creating drama - he actively encouraged it if said action would bring about a situation or story that he found spicy.

Grillby felt sympathetic towards Papyrus, he really did.

As much as he loved Sans as a friend, he had to admit, out of the whole lot, Papyrus was almost always the only sane man, and that was saying something.

But he also couldn't lie and say that seeing Sans stand up for himself wasn't satisfying, if not incredibly alarming and heavy on brutality.

Sans wasn't a violent person in the slightest normally, but sometimes, a person can only be pushed for so long and too far before they've had enough, he thought…

Grillby studied Sans's face carefully for a few moments, causing the latter to eventually take notice.

"…what? have i got ketchup on my face?"

"No. I was only wondering… it may be none of my business, though I am concerned, but… did you and Dr. Gaster have another falling out this morning?"

"gee, grillbz. now that ain't fair." He shook his head, turning away from him. "ya read me like a book. …how could ya tell?"

"You seem troubled. Your eyebrows were knitted together almost the entire time since you walked in and your posture is tense." He answered, his gaze softening. "Do you need to stay at my place for a while until things settle?"

"nah, i appreciate the gesture, grillbz, but it's fine, really."

"Then would you like some company and perhaps we could discuss the matter? I can go on break and we could talk-"

"nah, nah, you don't gotta do that. 'm ok, don't worry. 'specially not over me." Sans stood up and began pushing him towards the kitchen. "now go on, grillby; you gotta get back to work and i told tori pap and i'd help paint her roof. off ya go, now."

"Sans!"

"bye, grillbz! see ya later! money's on the counter!" He shoved his friend into the kitchen then shut the door, breathing a heavy sigh.

This wasn't the first time Grillby had offered to open up his home to Sans, and sometimes he took him up on it when things in the Gaster household were especially strained, but Sans didn't want to trouble his friend and his own household when it wasn't necessary. There were occasions where it truly had been best for both himself and Gaster's mental wellbeing for the two to distance themselves from one another, but despite his minor meltdown earlier, this morning had not been one of those times of urgency.

Grillby's younger sister Celosia was also in middle school, and that was a busy time for a kid her age. He always felt guilty for intruding into their home during the nights where she had school the next day and probably had homework that was difficult to concentrate on with his presence invading her personal space. Now that it was summer, she might want to invite over some of her friends for the evening or have a sleepover, and Celosia couldn't do that with total peace of mind when Sans was in the room next door having an emotional breakdown and unpacking it all on her big brother.

So it was for the best that he not drag his friend into his personal problems anymore.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

"Now Sans, you should be more careful climbing up those steps!" He heard Toriel warn him from below.

Papyrus had already perched himself up on the roof, helping steady the ladder from up there while Toriel held it from the bottom. Even so, both were chronic worriers and were afraid of him slipping and falling.

"i got it, no need to panic. see, 'm already over halfway there- woah!" As soon as those words left his mouth, he nearly missed a step and teetered backwards, the ladder beginning to wobble slightly.

"Sans!" Both yelled in panic, their grip on the ladder tightening.

"'m fine! probably shouldn't have spoke so soon. better wait 'til i've made it up all the way to start bragging."

"You can still fall from up there if you aren't careful, young man." Toriel reminded him with a cross glare before letting out a fretful sigh. "I'm beginning to regret this. One or both of you could get killed."

"don't sweat it, tori. we've climbed bigger heights than this, haven't we paps?"

"YES, THAT IS TRUE, BUT LET'S NOT TOSS ASIDE OUR OWN WELL BEINGS FOR THE THRILL OF THE CLIMB. AND LET US NOT FORGET THAT THIS IS A VERTICAL ASCENSION AND NOT A GRADUALLY RISING HORIZONTAL ONE!"

"I assume the two of you are speaking of climbing Mount Ebott." Toriel said, turning a glance towards the near impossibly tall snowcapped mountain that loomed over them, the town's namesake and centerpiece. "While climbing up a ladder is different than climbing up a mountain path by a wide margin, both still have their dangers."

Once Sans was close enough for him to reach, Papyrus grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up onto the roof with little to no effort – his brother was so strong and muscular, it was no wonder the town's kids thought he was great and wanted to be like him when they grew up.

He couldn't blame them at all – Papyrus was just the coolest.

Once he was safely up on the roof, seated next to his brother, he reached for a brush and can of paint and both began to work. Over half of the surface was already painted green and the unpainted sections purple. Toriel and Asgore were going to finish the job themselves, but Asgore was called into the town office unexpectedly for reasons she was sure to hear about later. He didn't want her to finish painting it alone, fearing what should happen if she were to stumble up there by herself, so she called in the brothers for help.

Papyrus was accepting offers for odd jobs around town until he found what he wanted to do in life, and now that Sans wasn't in college anymore, he had to make money for himself somehow. Gaster earned a good income, but Papyrus had wanted to start providing for himself though they lived under the same roof. And Sans wasn't going to allow himself to depend on his father for anything anymore since the accident, so he began to pitch in and pay the bills as well, though less out of a desire to prove himself a mature and responsible adult and more as a gesture to spite the old man.

It was a surprisingly effective countermove on Sans's part – he felt that Gaster inwardly resented him for getting kicked out of college and therefore barring himself from a well-paying job. By adding his own earnings into the house's collective funds, he was effectively telling his father without words that he could indeed support himself just fine without relying on his financial aid, as it was originally Gaster's idea to push Sans towards the college path when he first entered his junior year of high school.

There were days where Sans was actually happy to have gotten expelled, but mostly, he wished he hadn't, even if it was Gaster's desire for him to get a degree and eventually join him in his scientific endeavors. Sans had once loved science and taking part in the experiments he did with his father, but now invention and formulas only brought a bitter taste to his mouth when it once had brought joy.

That's why Sans so often grew so unmeasurably upset with him – despite all that's happened, his father still dropped everything else in his life and ran to science with open arms, even though it ironically costed Sans his college degree, his mental health, their previous family dynamic, and even Sans's entire future.

It wasn't the accident itself that hurt Sans to this day – it was Gaster's reaction to it.

Following this was when Sans began to spend so much time away from the house. If Gaster wanted to spend all his time with his work, then that's exactly what Sans would give him. Gaster had already made his choice, now he'd have to live with it, Sans thought.

The worst part about losing his opportunity for earning the college degree though was that now Sans had nothing to show for himself when people insulted him. Before, where there was a person that shamed him for his appearance, another would fearfully whisper that he was the son of the famed scientist Gaster and he was sure to follow in his footsteps, then the offending person would respectfully back off. During those times, he had felt so proud to be his son.

But now he was just Gaster's failure drop-out son.

Just another comeback kid for the entire town to talk about behind his back.

"the only reason the both of you are so bent out of shape over me going up a ladder is because i'm so fat you think i'm gonna break it."

His inner self-loathing was slipping out through his speech, he realized too late. He told Grillby before he was used to it, but he guessed now that what the woman at the bar had said affected him more than he previously thought. You could only hear something negative about you said to your face for so long before beginning to believe it yourself, even when you knew it wasn't true. And though he was normally easygoing, even Sans wasn't immune to bearing issues of self-esteem.

And Toriel wasn't about to stand for it.

"Sans, we've been over this – you're not fat, you're just-"

"big-boned. i know, i get it." He replied, his response coming off as more snippy than he intended it to and his brush strokes consequently more messy with his soured attitude, which he quickly tried to ammend.

He had been shown his own x-rays plenty of times to know that what she was saying was the truth, but it actually only made him feel worse. Losing weight was something he could do – changing his entire bone structure wasn't.

"Has someone said something to you recently about this?" She inquired, arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowing as she studied him as closely as possible from where she was standing.

Sans could deny all he wanted, but Toriel's suspicions were already confirmed without him saying a word. There was no use in smudging the facts or concealing anything from her when she was like this – Ultimate Mega Mom Mode, Undyne called it. Toriel was Asriel's mother, but she was also a mother to everyone that knew her. She filled that maternal role that was absent from his and Papyrus's home nearly since they first moved here as children.

And when one of Mama Toriel's children were mistreated, she wanted to know the details first, the who then, and the why later.

Sans murmured something, but it was lost on the wind.

"What was that dear? I didn't quite catch that?" She asked with a heavy frown and a lowered brow.

"…a lady at grillby's called me 'fatass'."

"who was she?" She immediately questioned.

"an out of towner. she's long gone by now. 'sides, grillby ran her off."

"That Grillby is a good boy. He hasn't let his sudden popularity change his core values in the slightest." She smiled, apparently happy with his answer.

Before graduating high school, Grillby had been bullied for having an appearance that was considered 'nerdy'. He was required to wear glasses, and the large round frames he wore then didn't flatter his facial structure. Not only that, but the way he dressed, the way he spoke just screamed 'nerd' to his tormentors. But when he came back to Ebott Town, everyone that knew him, including the ones who had so often went out of their way to make his days miserable, had discovered that he had changed during his absence.

Grillby is now regarded as a chick-magnet, and though he has since forgiven those that used to agonize him, inside, he hasn't, and never will forget what they had done to shatter his self-confidence in the past.

He had graduated when Sans entered his sophmore year, and though the former had changed a great deal physically since he left town, Sans had internally felt a sense of relief when he learned his friend remained the same on the inside upon returning.

"yeah, grillbz is a great guy." Sans readily agreed.

"WAIT A MINUTE – YOU ATE AT GRILLBY'S?" Before he could answer, Papyrus continued. "THEN YOU DIDN'T EAT THE BREAKFAST I MADE FOR YOU THIS MORNING?!"

"no, i didn't. 'm sorry i didn't when you went to the trouble to make it. i just… didn't have time to."

Papyrus always woke up at six 'o clock in the morning, made breakfast for himself, Sans and their father, then once he was finished, he went out for a morning jog that lasted for at least an hour to start off his day. Papyrus was the designated cook of the household, making sure that everyone was fed. They always ate whatever Papyrus served them, but they never ate meals together at the table anymore, always separately.

Sans usually took his breakfast with him if he couldn't eat it in serenity at home, but he had ran into Gaster before he could grab his plate and the ensuing confrontation had made him forget it.

"It's wonderful that someone stands up for you when you won't for yourself." Toriel's voice brought them both back on topic, thankfully – otherwise Sans would have had to explain to his brother just why he didn't have time to eat his lovingly crafted breakfast, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"tori, it doesn't bother me."

"EVEN IF IT DOESN'T, SANS, IT'S STILL WRONG! HAD THAT LADY NOT LEFT EBOTT AS QUICKLY AS SHE HAD, I WOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO SPEAK WITH HER ON THE CONSEQUENCES OF EXHIBITING SUCH POOR AND DISRESPECTFUL MANNERS IN A RELAXED PUBLIC SETTING, GRILLBY OR NO GRILLBY."

"Papyrus is absolutely right, dear. I'm afraid your feelings towards such inexcusable behavior doesn't matter – if you heard the exact same thing happened to your brother or even me, even though either of us said we wouldn't let what was said bother us, how would you feel?"

"i'd still be furious."

"So why should it be any different for us when concerning you?" He then peered over the edge of the roof to find her smiling sweetly at him.

Sans wanted to argue that he was a different case compared to them, but they would only argue and try to make him see otherwise.

So he decided changing the subject entirely and steering the attention away from himself was the best course of action to take.

"so, green, huh?" He asked after a lengthy pause, looking at the paint.

Toriel knew he was trying to create a diversion, but she allowed him peace and answered his question.

"Yes. When Asgore and I married and bought this house, he said he wanted the roof to be my favorite color, so it was painted purple. Now, so many years later, the old paint was chipping away and fading, so the two of us decided it should be painted Asriel's favorite color – green."

"is asriel happy to be out of school for the summer?"

"He's so overjoyed he barely knows what to do with himself or all the free time he has on his hands now. He's out with his friends for the afternoon; Grillby's sister Celosia and… oh, that blonde boy with the spiked hairstyle. I always forget his name and it makes me feel so ashamed because he's Asriel's friend and he's been invited over here so many times that I should know! Oh, but that hair of his… Asriel has been wanting his own cut like that and I've been trying to dissuade him from it. If that's what he really wants, I won't try to stop him anymore, but I don't know if Asriel really wants that specific style or if he's trying to follow some sort of trend."

"if you're wanting to know about fashion trends, i'm the last person you need to be asking." Sans laughed more to himself. "i just roll out of bed like this – if it's stuff about clothes or hair that's popular, it's matt you want to talk to, or, well, mettaton. that's what he's going by now since he got in over his head with that band he started up."

"Didn't you tell me once young Matthew, or rather Mettaton, renamed himself after an angel?" Sans and Papyrus both gave positive confirmations to her question. "But wouldn't that be 'Metatron' instead?"

"yeah. he read it wrong." Sans snickered. "so now he's stuck with a typo for a name."

"WELL, I STILL THINK IT SOUNDS COOL! IT JUST BREATHES STARDOM, JUST LIKE HE SAID!" Papyrus huffed, sending his brother a pointed glare, to which he childishly stuck his tongue out at him.

Papyrus then flicked his brush at him, splattering green flecks of paint on his face. Sans was about to wipe it off on his sleeve, but before he could, a white handkerchief was tossed in his direction. His brother was always prepared – the definite mom that oversaw their group of friends when Toriel couldn't.

"thanks, bro."

"IT WAS NOTHING. YOU WEAR THAT HOODIE SO MUCH THAT, IF IT GOT PAINT ON IT, YOU PROBABLY STILL WOULDN'T WASH IT UNTIL I MADE YOU."

"according to alphys, the main character of any story has to have some kind of wardrobe or piece of clothing that identifies them – this hoodie is mine, just like yours is your red scarf."

"WELL, I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT…" He hesitantly agreed, toying with the somewhat tattered ends of his scarf. He then gasped. "WAIT – YOU THINK THAT I COULD BE A MAIN CHARACTER? ME?!"

"of course, bro. who wouldn't want to watch a show where you were the star?"

"AWW, SANS! THAT'S THE SWEETEST THING YOU'VE SAID ALL WEEK! GET OVER HERE." Deciding that Sans was too slow, Papyrus shuffled over on his knees, throwing his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Sans happily returned the gesture – he's had an awful day so far, but a hug from his bro always made a horrible day better.

Papyrus suddenly recoiled and stuck out his tongue with a loud 'bleh'. "EW! YOU SMELL LIKE GRILLBY'S! I'VE CHANGED MY MIND - GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"aw, come on, bro. don't be like that." Sans grinned widely, holding out his arms and shuffling towards him while Papyrus moved in the opposite direction.

"KEEP YOUR DISTANCE FROM ME, CONSUMER OF GREASE!"

"but i love you so much, bro. c'mon, a little elbow grease is good for ya."

"NYEH! THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE! JUST TERRIBLE! ONE OF YOUR WORST ONES YET!"

"you sure? 'cause i'm starting to think you might be a bit fried and prejudiced against my jokes."

"EUGH, NO! WHAT HAVE I STARTED?"

"nothin'. just one whopper of a pun, that's all."

"SAAAANS! IF YOU WON'T STOP YOUR PUGNACIOUS PUNNING, I'LL JUST HAVE TO PUT AN END TO IT MYSELF!"

"go ahead, hit me with your best shallot."

"NYEEEEEEEEH!" Papyrus lunged for him, attempting to cover his mouth to block the endless stream of bad puns from escaping.

"Boys!" Toriel called from down below, the pair hovering a bit too close to the edge for her liking. "I can understand the sudden need to initiate a brotherly round of roughhousing as much as the next person, but my nerves would be far more at ease if the two of you would wait until you were standing on solid ground to do so, and instead put your current focus on staying a-chive while up there."

"MRS. DREEMUR, HOW COULD YOU?! I THOUGHT WE HAD AN UNDERSTANDING!" Papyrus fake wept dramatically, but backed away a safe distance from the edge as requested of him.

"yeah, paps. better move back some before we make a mis-steak that'll cost us our lives."

"YOU SAY THAT, BUT YOU'RE ACTING LIKE YOU WANT ME TO THROW YOU OFF THIS ROOF!"

He reached over to snatch at Sans again, but before he could, he slipped and lost his balance, falling directly on his brother with a loud cry of alarm. Once again they heard the worried shouts of Toriel below.

"Sans and Papyrus Gaster!" Oh no, she had brought out the last name. "If one of you stumbles off that roof and the impact doesn't kill you, then so help me, I'll strangle the both of you myself!"

"yes, ma'am! sorry, ma'am! won't happen again!"

"YES, MA'AM! SORRY, MA'AM! WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!"

Their tomfoolery immediately ceased and the two continued diligently painting the roof as they had before.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm so sorry for shouting at you like that, dears." She apologized once the two were finished and on safe solid ground. "But I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to either of you."

She stole a glance at Sans's covered arms and said quietly, her voice dropping down to a whisper that only he could hear. "We've already suffered one tragedy. One is plenty enough."

He broke eye contact with her to wordlessly tug at his sleeves.

"Do they still hurt? Have you been using the balm the doctors prescribed to you?"

"yeah, i've been using it. and, no, it doesn't hurt." But while subjected under her caring gaze, he found that he couldn't lie to her. "…not as much as before."

She gave him relieved smile, happy that he decided to be honest with her. Before Papyrus could get too curious as to what they were talking about, Toriel decided to produce a distraction.

"I made lemonade earlier, and I think you boys have earned it after a job well done."

A short while later, the three were sipping on their drinks under the shade of her expansive front porch. During the evening, she liked to come out with Asgore and watch the fireflies dance about. She looked again towards the massive mountain.

"Sans? Papyrus? You mentioned earlier that the two of you occasionally climb Mount Ebott?"

The two of them nodded.

"Have you seen anything peculiar of interest?"

"…like what?"

"SANS GOES UP THERE MORE THAN I DO, SO IF HE HASN'T SEEN WHAT YOU'RE VAGUELY REFERRING TO, THEN I CERTAINLY HAVEN'T."

"Oh, just, you know… anything unusual."

"…ooohhh. you're talking about the wraiths, aren't you?"

"Well, not especially. I really did mean anything odd at all."

"well, if we're talking about the wraiths, than no, haven't seen 'em."

"I SAW A WILD GOOSE THE OTHER DAY. IT HONKED AT ME AND CHASED ME FOR A REALLY LONG TIME! I THREW A PIECE OF LETTUCE FROM A SANDWICH I HAD PACKED FOR LUNCH AT IT AND ITS ATTENTION WAS SUCCESSFULLY DIVERTED! ANOTHER SPECTACULAR VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"crazy bird." Sans shook his head, taking another sip of his glass before asking, "why'd you wanna know if we saw anything?"

"Because lately, a significant increase in sightings have been reported. Of the wraiths, I mean. I thought that if you two were walking the mountain trail, you may have seen something."

"nope. we haven't seen anything like that, have we, paps?"

"NO. JUST THE OCCASIONAL UNREASONABLY ANGRY BIRD."

"I see. I suppose that being pursued by a territorial goose is enough of a sight."

"do you believe in them, tori? i mean, they're just supposed to be old town legends, right?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that question. It's true that people have lived in this town for centuries, and the existence of these shadow creatures hasn't been proven. They're even supposed to be highly skilled practitioners of magic. Magic! It all sounds so fantastical, it would be logical to believe it as pure fiction. And yet, so many have seen something up in the mountains that resembles those monsters of lore throughout the years, and their accounts all being so similar to one another with very little deviation." She breathed a relaxed sigh, sinking further into her rocking chair. "I guess I don't have a clear answer. But I do know that there are some things that science or logical reasoning just can't explain away, and I suppose the wraiths are just one of them. We may never know, and perhaps it's for the best it stay that way."

"FOR THE BEST? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?"

"because think about it, paps. if someone proved that the mountain had monsters on it, what do you think would happen?" Sans didn't give his brother a chance to answer before continuing. "they'd either be captured for experiments or killed on the spot. that's how it always goes in the books and movies, and art imitates life and life imitates art."

"…MAYBE THINGS WOULDN'T HAPPEN THAT WAY IF THEY WERE DISCOVERED BY THE RIGHT PERSON! IF THEY EXISTED, THAT IS."

"maybe. but that person'd have to be something special. most would kill something like that without a shred of hesitation."

He decided not to mention the more malevolent legends surrounding the wraiths – the ones where, if they caught you, they would eat you from the inside out and then inhabit your corpse in order to impersonate you.

After reading about those tales, Sans wondered how many innocent lives were taken when, many years ago, villagers were said to have burned anyone alive who went into the mountains and returned acting strange, believing their body had been abducted by a wraith.

As a child, his bullies had always told him he would never have to worry about a wraith wanting to steal his body, because you had to have a life in the first place for them to take, and his face was far too ugly for even a monster to desire.

"What about you, Sans? Do you believe the wraiths exist?" Toriel asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"i dunno, to be honest. i guess if enough evidence piles up, i will, but right now they still sound too much like something adults made up to make sure their kids stayed off the mountain so they didn't get eaten by bears or something." He took another sip of lemonade and chuckled. "now muffet, she definitely thinks they're real. that girl should have went on to be a cryptozoologist instead of working in her family's bakery, but she does make a mean blueberry muffin. she's gone up in the mountains for years and sometimes she comes back saying she saw something."

"Do you believe her?"

"i believe she believes she saw something, if that counts. muffet wants to see something so bad that maybe her eyes might be playing tricks on her."

"I think one's attitude towards the legends might have a lot to do with it. There are even some that travel to Mount Ebott with the sole purpose of trying to capture one on film. Almost all of them leave disappointed, but i have seen on the television some nights before in the past where one will get a photograph or video of a shadow that could be perceived as a wraith. Although, picture editing softwares exist now, don't they? So it all could be faked. This old lady doesn't know anything about modern technology - I still don't understand those me-mes you kids send me sometimes on the cellphone."

"it's pronounced 'memes', tori!" Sans actually laughed, almost spitting out his drink.

"Is that right? I've been pronouncing it wrong this entire time."

Suddenly Papyrus's cellphone went off, the familiar lyrics of Caravan Palace's 'Black Betty' filling the once relatively quiet space around them. He quickly picked it up and squinted at the screen.

"IT'S A TEXT MESSAGE. FROM UNDYNE! SHE TURNED ON HER LOCATION…? …SHE SAYS IT'S AN EMERGENCY! AND SHE NEEDS ME OVER THERE RIGHT AWAY!"

"You had better run along then and see what she wants." Toriel chuckled.

"AND I WILL! THANK YOU, MRS. DREEMUR, FOR THE DELICIOUS LEMONADE! I MUST BE OFF, FOR I AM NEEDED ELSEWHERE!"

With that, Papyrus jumped up and performed a backflip off the porch railing, landing perfectly on his feet an impressive distance away and sped off in the direction of the location Undyne had told him she was at, leaving trails of dust behind him in his wake.

"Will you be joining him? Wherever it is he's going?" Toriel asked Sans, who had moved from where he had been lounging in her hammock to sit up.

"maybe. i dunno. with undyne, an emergency can either mean anything from 'this guy is trying to rob somebody, let's pulverize him into oblivion' to 'hey, come watch me suplex this entire boulder'."

"I see. In that case, if you aren't leaving, then might I talk to you for a bit?"

"…what about, tori?"

"There were a few things that I wanted to ask you earlier, but Papyrus was here, so…" She took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh, her gaze both remorseful and sympathetic towards him for what was about to be said. "It's about you and Dr. Gaster."

"i figured as much." Sans replied flatly, then thought, "of course it had to be about that. i really don't wanna talk about this right now…"

While he had occasionally unloaded some of his familial issues onto Grillby when he just couldn't keep his inner turmoil locked away anymore and Grillby was persistent enough in getting him to open up, Toriel was his primary listening ear. The difference between the two was that when Grillby managed to convince Sans to air out his feelings, he gave as vague details as possible. He knew his friend only wanted to help; he would listen to his complaints without judging him and wouldn't spread what he heard around town, but there were just some things that occurred between him and Gaster that Sans didn't feel comfortable repeating.

Toriel, however, was a different case. She was easy to talk to, her gentle maternal aura unconsciously coaxing him into freely speaking what was on his mind on more occasions than he would have liked. She too wanted to offer her assistance in some way, even if all she could do was listen to his troubles, but he didn't want to bother her or anyone else with what he saw as trivial and petty matters. What went on between him and Gaster was solely their problem; not Grillby's, not Toriel's, not Undyne's, Alphys's, Muffet's, or even his brother's, San's believed. He and Gaster had gotten themselves into this current sad state of affairs themselves, and if their relationship was meant to be repaired at all, then that was something that could only be done by themselves.

Unfortunately, Toriel had become involved in the mess the two had created before it even truly began. When Gaster had taken him to the hospital that fateful day, it was her that treated Sans's wounds – she, his father, a few select staff at the hospital, and Sans himself were the only ones who presently bore knowledge of what his bare arms looked like. After the accident, he chose to conceal them from view to avoid any scrutinizing stares, even as the temperatures gradually began to climb. Not even Papyrus had seen the horrifying mess of burnt flesh that lied underneath the cloth.

He didn't want Papyrus to see that – Sans himself didn't want to see his arms whenever he was forced to take off his hoodie in order to apply medicine on the wounds, bathe, or change clothes.

"I didn't want to bring this topic up for discussion with Papyrus present. I know he means well, and please do not take offense for me saying this, but I feel as though he tries much too hard to force change."

Sans's sole reply was a low hum of acknowledgement; Toriel was right – he meant well, but Papyrus was rather pushy when it came to helping people with their problems, and Sans himself was no exception to this. Papyrus was a good listener, but he always wanted to help fix the problem after being informed – he was a person who wanted to see action being put towards the issue at hand with his own eyes and he expected immediate results.

His brother just wanted to help him in the only way he knew how. More so than anyone else, even Toriel with her infinite motherly doting. But Sans just couldn't let him see what he was trying so hard to hide from the eyes of the rest of the world, his physical and mental scars, even if it did mean eventually upsetting Papyrus.

Sans did everything he could for him, whether Papyrus was aware of it or not. Whether that meant anonymously slipping an extra twenty dollar bill into his wallet when he was a few bucks short of buying something he really wanted at the time or staying up until three in the morning listening to him prattle on for literal hours about his latest crush.

Sans would do almost anything for Papyrus. Nearly anything to preserve that smile that always brightened his day, no matter how terrible.

There was only one thing he could think of that he couldn't allow Papyrus.

He could pretend that everything between him and Gaster was fine, he could put on a fabricated smile and spoon feed him fake reassurances that things were getting better when they weren't, but the one thing Sans couldn't do for his brother was let him know just how broken up he really was, inside and out.

And while Toriel didn't approve of his evasive maneuvers against what she saw as procedures and methods that were supposed to be aiding him towards the process of healing mentally, she understood all too well why Sans would want to hide his serious personal affairs from Papyrus.

"One day you will have to let him in, Sans; let him know what's wrong and how you truly feel. You know that, don't you?"

"mmmnn…" His answer came in the form of an unenthusiastic and noncommital grunt.

"But I can't force the two of you to talk; it wouldn't be right, just as it isn't right for him to try to force you and Dr. Gaster to spend an extended duration of time with each other alone."

"i think maybe paps thinks that what's been going on between me and him can be solved with one talk and a hug, and then everything will go back to how it used to be."

"That's an unrealistic expectation. A familial dispute such as this could take months, perhaps even years to properly mend. And that's alright. Because healing of any kind takes time depending on the size and severity of the wound. Just like your own, Sans."

"…i lied to you earlier, tori." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "they still hurt. they still hurt a lot."

She took his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze. "I know you don't believe me when I tell you this, but it will get better." Her palms moved up to his lower arms, almost causing him to flinch from the contact. "The pain you're feeling right now will gradually fade."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "…but they won't ever go away, will they?"

This was a question that he had already asked Toriel before, one which he already knew the answer to since long before now.

But it didn't stop him from hoping, that just maybe it was possible that-

She frowned, fighting the sting of tears that threatened to form in her eyes as she gingerly traced over his sleeves. "No. Not in the manner that you wish them to. We… did the best that we could at the time, Sans. I'm so sorry we couldn't do more for you…"

"i know that. and i'm grateful for all you've done to make this bearable. it's just… one of those things that won't get any better, no matter how much time passes." He shrugged, trying to save face by acting unaffected. "maybe the same could be said about me and gaster."

"Maybe not and maybe so. But mutual effort is needed in order to bring about a change."

"i am trying, tori!" He suddenly snapped, taking a step back. "papyrus keeps telling me over and over, 'TRY THIS TIME' and i always do! but just about every single time we try to have what should be a short and civil conversation with each other, one of us ends up saying something to make the other fly off the handle! the both of us should just back off then, but no, it just gets worse and worse because neither of us will shut up! and what gets it all started in the first place is almost always something that's so stupid to get so heated up over when it's all said and done and we're thinking back on it later. and it's just getting worse and worse as the days pass by!" Sans suddenly slumped where he stood, his volume dropping to a defeated mutter. "sooner or later, we're going to stop coming to the realization that what we were even shouting at each other over was stupid to begin with. …why do we argue so much about things that are completely insignificant and have nothing to do with the actual problem? gaster's mad at me for getting kicked out of college and ruining my own life and i'm mad at him because… his crazy experiments got me hurt and he went right back to wanting me to work with him in the lab again like nothing happened after."

Toriel didn't say anything for a while. Sans had wandered over to her garden bench and sat down, his clenched hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he stared without emotion at the ground. He had completely shut down for the moment. It had been a while since he had done this, but she knew what to do. She found it was best to let him come back on his own terms, let him sort out the chaos in his head.

She would stand by and wait quietly until then.

He didn't stay like this for long. He never did. She had been counting down the minutes on her watch. Four minutes of silence from him when finally, he murmured,

"gaster loves his work more than he ever loved me. …i know he loves us, but he loves his work more. paps and i just can't compete with it anymore."

"What makes you believe that he loves his work more?"

"aside from the fact that he tried to get me back in the lab so soon after i'd been released from the hospital? i… started noticing things after i came home for good."

"What sort of things?" Toriel questioned cautiously.

While Sans had spoken of his continuous quarrels with Gaster whenever she could persuade him to talk, he had never once told her about anything pertaining to details he had picked up from the doctor following the origin of their disagreements. She was breaching new territory.

"back when i first started working with gaster, we spent a lot of time together. in and out of the lab. it was fun then, but at the time, i didn't really think about how papyrus felt about it. he never got good grades in the science classes in school, you know, but i did. i think me and alph got the highest scores out of everyone. but lately i've started to wonder if papyrus actually felt left out. because gaster was so focused on me, he didn't pay all that much attention to him anymore. …and i didn't either. not as much as i did before. when i stopped going to college and after we got into that fight, the really big one that kind of started all these smaller ones between us, he stopped talking to me too for a while. it was like i didn't even exist, like i was a ghost in my own house."

Toriel had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything.

She truly did want for there to be eventually, one day in the future, a happy resolution to the Gaster family conflict. However, while she tried to remain neutral to both parties on the outside, on the inside, she leaned more towards favoring Sans's point of view on the things that went on in the household. She knew that the doctor loved both his sons and was trying just as much as Sans was to make things right, in his own misguided way, but Toriel couldn't stop herself from feeling a bit cross towards the doctor and placing the blame on him for this entire debacle.

Gaster was a man of logic and reason. Displaying and successfully evoking the more tender emotions residing in his heart came difficult to him. Sans could repeat to her every single word said by Gaster in each one of their arguments they had in these past few months and she would probably find herself capable of translating just what it was he had actually wanted to say to his son, but it wouldn't mean a thing if it came from her mouth and not his.

As much as she wanted to go off on Gaster herself on some instances after seeing Sans so miserable, Toriel knew the last thing she needed to do was encourage the two to emotionally stray further away from each other by widening the gap between them with her own biased opinions and personal feelings on the matter.

"Sans, you have nothing to feel guilty for, if that's what this is about." She rested a hand on his shoulder, sitting down next to him. "I know you well enough to believe that you truly have been putting in your best effort to make amends with Dr. Gaster. And sometimes simply that is enough."

"isn't there anything i can do to make it better though, tori? i'm so sick of fighting with him."

She thought for a few moments, then shook her head with a resigned sigh. "I'm afraid I don't, dear. I've never seen a case quite like yours and the doctor's… Asgore and I have had disagreements before, everyone does, but they never lasted long and we always grew closer afterward. During those unpleasant times, when our feelings of anger burned bright, we kept our distance from each other until we were ready to talk again. So perhaps what you are doing now is best."

"but what if he wants to talk and i'm not ready to?"

"Then tell him. Just say, 'I'm sorry, but I don't feel ready to talk yet'. If he continues to pursue the subject, then he is the one in the wrong at that point and you have right to feel upset. …I must say, I think you're handling this far more maturely than most would in your situation, Sans."

"you really think that?" He lifted his head to look up at her with wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"I wouldn't have said so if I thought differently." She let out a light chuckle, gently ruffling his hair. "You recognize when you've done wrong and feel remorseful, seeking to amend your past mistakes and readily admit to when you were wrong once the fire has died. Not many people are like that, instead choosing to stick fast to their hateful words that were said in a moment of anger out of pride. You even had the courage to walk away instead of staying to fight, even though some would unrightfully claim that doing so was cowardly. there is absolutely no shame to be found in walking away from an unpleasant situation."

"thanks tori, i… actually feel a little better now." His own words surprised him, his chest truly did feel a bit lighter than it did before. "but how did you know gaster and I got into it earlier?"

She bit her lip. "Because I received a text message from Asgore. Dr. Gaster appeared at town hall suddenly and the two have apparently been talking with each other ever since. Gorey told me from the sound of things, it seemed like the both of you had another argument."

"oh, that explains it then." He said after a beat, a sense of relief falling over him – he had thought someone in town passed by their house and somehow eavesdropped, then decided to gossip and it reached Toriel's ears.

"You know, they've known each other for years. They've been the best of friends since even before Asgore and I married. You of course weren't born at the time, but the doctor was Asgore's best man at our wedding and Asgore at his. Asgore still talks about their wedding, your father's and Miriam's."

"…gaster never told me about any of that stuff."

Sans and Papyrus didn't know anything about their mother. Gaster never spoke of her and she had died when both brothers were small, Papyrus being two years old and Sans five. Try as he might, Sans couldn't remember a thing about her. The only evidence of her ever existing were some old photos Sans had managed to smuggle out from under his father's nose, the ring she had once wore now stowed away in its box inside their house, and Sans's left eye.

Both brothers even existing was proof enough of their mother's existence; her hair color which they shared was the color of snow, but white hair existed in both their maternal and paternal family trees. Sans's left eye, that startling shade of light blue, came solely from her. There were times when Gaster wouldn't even look him in the face because of his heterochromia, and when Sans was furious, sometimes it was as if Miriam was haunting him from beyond the grave through her oldest son.

Sans took out his phone from his hoodie pocket. "i had better go see what it is that undyne wanted, just in case it really was something important. 'm sorry for suddenly blowing up on you like that, tori."

"It's alright, Sans. I know you didn't mean to and you're carrying a great amount of stress on your shoulders, but if it helped you to feel better by even the slightest amount, I would stand here and permit you to shout whatever was on your mind at me for as long as your voice would allow."

"you're too good for this sin-filled world, tori." He spoke after a pause, having raised his arms up about halfway, wanting to request a hug from her but too shy to ask despite the fact that this woman practically raised him and loved giving and receiving physical gestures of affection.

Thankfully, years of knowing him had made it easy for her to read his body language. She swiftly swept him into a comforting embrace and whispered,

"I know that this world is filled with unspeakable horrors, but I've found that life is also abundant with many indescribable blessings. Please, no matter how difficult life may become for you, never forget them."

Once again, she was right, he could admit to himself. He may have an emotionally distant father and an unattractive body, but he had been gifted a group of friends that actually cared for him and the best brother than anyone could ever ask for. If he remembered those things, the bad points of his day became more livable.

After she released him and he her, she slipped a small wad of cash into his pocket. "For the roof – you're helping to keep the household up now and the bills aren't getting any cheaper."

"thanks, tori. …for everything."

"Anytime, dear. Now run along and see what Undyne wants before she hunts you down. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

Sans winced, remembering the last time he had dared to brush her off.

Piledrivers. Lots and lots of piledrivers.

He turned towards the direction Papyrus had taken off and his phone buzzed; Undyne had sent him her location. Good, it seemed as though he wasn't in hot water with her, otherwise she would have just ignored his text and hunted him down, as Toriel said.

She and Papyrus were down at the riverbed, but she gave no details about just what it was they were doing down there and why she had texted Papyrus saying there was an emergency.

Oh well. He supposed that he would find out when he got there.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

"SANS! Do you have ANY idea how late you are?!" Undyne barked as soon as he came into her line of view.

"i didn't know i was supposed to show up…?" He offered with a small shrug. "you sent the text to my bro, not me, so how was i supposed to know you wanted me here too? i just thought i should show up since paps said you told him it was an emergency."

"Oh, don't give me that crap!" She stomped over and jabbed a finger into his chest. "and it is an emergency! Haven't you heard the news?!"

"uh…?"

"The town police has been talking about it ALL week – the shadow monster sightings up in the mountains have been CRAZY lately! Chief of police said that if somebody could catch one and bring it back to the station, there'd be something good in it for them! Do you have ANY idea what that means, Sans?!"

"uh-"

"IT MEANS UNDYNE MIGHT FINALLY GET TO BE AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE FORCE IF SHE CAN PULL IT OFF, WHICH I BELIEVE SHE CAN!" Papyrus answered for her, causing her to whip her head in his direction.

"PAPYRUS!" Undyne yelled, jumping over to him and grabbing him into a head lock. "Don't interrupt me when I was just about to tell him myself! …But thanks for the confidence – really appreciate it!"

"IF YOU APPRECIATE ME, YOU WOULD STOP NOOGIE-ING ME!" He nearly squealed, trying to break out of her hold.

She quickly released him and bounced back to Sans.

"I've called up Alphys and Muffet for help in planning this whole thing out. Alphys is gonna help me track one down and Muffet probably knows more about those things than everybody else in town put together! They're late too, but they're supposed to be here any minute now. The only reason why I haven't noogie-d you into the next dimension is because you happened to show up before they did, so consider yourself lucky, punk!"

"then, uh, what's mettaton here to do?"

"Mettaton? I didn't invite hi-" She noticed his gaze straying to over her shoulder and turned around, then exclaimed, "Oh HECK no!"

"Oh heck YES, darlings!" Mettaton retorted, stepping forward with Alphys and Muffet following behind.

"Why are you here?!"

"Well that certainly is a rude way to greet an old friend!" He huffed, sticking his nose into the air and crossing his arms. He cracked open one eye, "But since you're so curious, I was over at Alphys's house when you texted – she's helping Blooky and I with our band, you know. Audio equipment, technical stuff and such and all that jazz. When I heard that you wanted her, Sans, Papyrus, and even Muffet to come here, but not me, well… I simply wouldn't stand for it! …So here I am, in the flesh. Uninvited, but fashionably late, as per usual."

"…And just what is 'even Muffet' supposed to mean?" Muffet stared at him with narrowed eyelids, a sweet smile on her face but the danger that lied under her expression was evident to all. "I'm beginning to believe that I am unwelcome among this circle of friends. Perhaps I should just go and-"

"No, wait!" Undyne shouted, bowling over Mettaton to reach her. "Don't leave! He's the one that wasn't invited, not you! And I really need your help with this, Muffet."

"Alright, since my company means so much to you, I suppose I can stay for a while…" She giggled, her mood doing a complete one-eighty degree shift.

"Okay, now that everyone is here, plus the unexpected and unwanted addition of Mettaton-"

"Hey! What did I ever do to you?!"

"Let's get down to business." Undyne walked over to a tree stump by the water's edge and raised one foot to rest on it. "…So, how are we going to pull this off?"

"Y-You mean you called all of us here and you have no idea what you're doing?" Alphys asked, gobsmacked.

"Well DUH, if I had any idea on what I'm supposed to do, I wouldn't have bothered dragging you all to this spot." Undyne looked at them as if they were the ones wasting her time. "Mount Ebott is HUGE. Like… REDONKULOUSLY huge. Finding one of those shadow monsters would be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the haystack was the size of… I dunno, a whale or something? Anyway, I hate to admit this, I mean REALLY hate it, but I can't just go tearing up there looking for something that's lived there its whole life and knows the place better than I ever will and all the places it can hide. It's a mission bound for failure if I go up there unprepared – I gotta be smart about this. So, that's where all of you come in."

"…uh, undyne?"

"Yes, Sans? What is your question?"

"you do realize that you're talking about catching a creature that isn't supposed to exist, right? i didn't know you believed in them."

"I didn't until the guys at the station started talking about them! It STILL sounded completely bogus to me until all these supposed to be really credible eyewitnesses started showing up at the station and Gerson and the rest started passing around the pictures those people turned in. I saw 'em with my own two eyeballs and they looked real, not like those computer edited photos they show sometimes on the TV. I even heard they might be sending them to Dr. Gaster so he can test if they're fakes or not."

"gaster wouldn't bother doing something like that – he'd just look and say they were fakes without even paying attention to what's on 'em."

"He will if these reports get to be a big enough thing around the town!" Undyne shot back with a maniacal grin. "If the doctor gives the word that they're the real deal, then the hunt is on. And I'm not talking about myself – there'll be people from all over the country flocking here to the mountain. I've got to do this now before that happens and this great little window of opportunity that's opened up just for me is suddenly slammed shut in my face. …SO HELP A GAL OUT, WOULD'JYA?!"

She received mixed levels of enthusiasm from the replies of the small group she had gathered, but their hesitation was apparently enough of an answer for her – and the answer she had picked up from them was yes.

Sans sighed to himself,

"this is going to be just like the time she tried capturing santa claus when we were kids…"

"Poor Mr. Dreemur… He never saw the net coming." Alphys added solemnly.

"Alright, so listen up you pack of weenies! But not you though, Alphys. You're a peach and we're all glad that you're here." Undyne couldn't stop from showing her favoritism among present company. "So, back to what I was saying before Mr. Negative Nancy threw me off track – how are we gonna do this?"

Everyone was silent for a while.

"howz about we all go to lunch to think it over and talk about this again sometime after?"

"It's almost evening, you lazy clod!"

"Undyne, dearie, you're going about this all wrong." Muffet's smooth voice interjected.

"How so?" Undyne turned to her and crossed her arms impatiently.

"If you really wish to find a wraith, then you need to know exactly what it is you're walking into. They're clever beings, Undyne. They're adept masters at hiding and keeping their presence hidden from the world. It won't be like capturing a pesky possum eating your pet cat's food or a raccoon rummaging through your garbage and strewing it everywhere each night. This outbreak of sightings is merely a game of peek-a-boo to them, most likely. If you go up there looking to capture one of them, all that awaits you is disappointment."

"You're a fine one to talk, Muffet! You go up in those mountains several times a week looking for 'em and you've been doing it practically since you learned to walk!"

"Yes, dearie, all of what you just said is true. However, my goal isn't to apprehend one like a common criminal." Muffet's smile turned eerie. "The wraiths are simply impossible to catch, that's what I've come to believe. If you do encounter one and attempt to take one into custody, your face may just get ripped off for trying. You've heard the more… malevolent tales concerning them, haven't you?"

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Undyne scoffed. "So the wraiths can kill me. So could another human. So could a dog. So could a very dedicated duck!"

Papyrus nodded readily at her last point.

"The wraiths aren't that special in that department. What DOES make them special to me is that they're gonna help me finally secure a place in the police force!"

Undyne had known since before she ever entered kindergarten that she wanted to be a police officer when she grew up. She wanted to take down bad guys and arrest them, punish them and keep them away from the rest of society for the good people's sake and peace of mind. But when she graduated high school and tried to apply for a position she was immediately rejected. Apparently her frequent brawls with the local youth and her firey personality had branded Undyne as a troublemaker in the eyes of the force, everybody except Gerson.

He sympathized with her, so he talked with the rest of his coworkers and after much debate, they finally gave her a job – sort of. She was relegated to the position of 'mountain patrol', a fake position given to her out of pity where she circled the road that stretched around the base of Mount Ebott to search for anyone that may be breaking the law. She had received her own uniform and a walkie talkie like the others, but it was obvious that she wasn't considered one of them by the rest of the officers.

Undyne had done her job with as much passion as she could muster at first, thinking that if they saw her hard at work then a promotion might be on her horizon in the future. She had caught several individuals before that had tried to make the mountain their own personal dumpster through illegal dumping. She had apprehended one man who had committed several robberies and hid his stolen goods somewhere in that area. She had even prevented a very drunk man from kidnapping a woman who had been walking by herself that night and witnessed him trying to drag her up onto the mountain to do heaven knows what with her.

And despite all that, everyone on the force with the exception of Gerson still looked down on her.

That's why Undyne felt she had to prove herself to them by doing the impossible: capturing one of the elusive wraiths that roamed the mountain territories.

"Muffet does actually have a point, kind of." Alphys timidly spoke, causing the attention to be drawn to her. "Monsters or no monsters, it's still i-incredibly dangerous up there! Like you said, Mount Ebott is enormous, and how many times have you actually gone up there?"

Undyne looked down at her hand and began counting on her fingers. "…None."

"See? S-So maybe before you go up there, maybe it would be better to… become more familiar with the geography? Muffet, does the library have a map of the mountain?"

"I've got something better than the library…" Undyne whipped her head around, tossed a piece of blank paper then a pencil and pointed with a shout, "Sans! Draw me a map of Mount Ebott!"

He looked at the sheet and pencil resting at his feet and back at her with an owlish gaze.

"are you insane? i can't draw a map of the entire mountain!"

"I thought that Papyrus said you and him have been up there a lot in the past few months!"

"yeah, we have, but not enough that we've memorized everything up there! i've been up there more than paps and I haven't even made it one third of the way to the top! if mount ebott was an english mastiff, then we're the equivalent of a bunch of fleas jumping on its back! i don't think there's a person that's ever lived in this town or anywhere on earth that knows everything there is to know about that place and its geography. there is no complete map of ebott because i've looked. this whole idea of your is dangerous and crazy, undyne."

He was expecting her to blow up, but instead she inhaled through her nose and placed her forehead against her palm.

"You don't think I know that? But this may be the best chance I'll ever have of getting some respect from the force."

"Is getting respect from people that never believed in you worth possibly losing your life?"

Surprisingly, it was Mettaton that had asked her this question, and he for once looked serious.

"Undyne, if you truly want to hunt down one of those monsters, then I support your ambitions entirely, but you're still heading into something risky. You haven't planned this at all, you just assembled the team and hoped we'd have what you wanted to hear. And as for earning respect? Who needs it! Everyone told me I was making a mistake when I changed my name and formed my band, and they still do, but I'm happier now than I ever was before. I'm sure that fame will come our way any day now, but we're preparing ourselves for it every day. You, however, despite having told us that you wanted to play it smart, were planning on tearing off up there immediately after this little meeting of your is adjourned, correct?"

Undyne wouldn't look at him, but she gave a short nod.

"That's what I thought. I know this feels like a race against time to secure a place where you are comfortable belonging, but you need patience if you truly want to pull this off. Do some research, look at some maps, even if they are incomplete because some knowledge is better than none, and then you can go into the mountains with nets and fists ablaze to bag yourself a shadow monster!"

"…Wow, Mettaton." Alphys stared at him with wide eyes. "T-That's the most wise I think I've ever heard you speak! Usually you're encouraging us to make bad decisions for the sake of drama."

"You're right. He is acting strangely out of character…" Undyne pondered aloud, then shouted, "You're not Mettaton at all! You're actually one of the wraiths, aren't you?!"

Everyone knew she was joking, but the sudden increase in volume of her voice still made Mettaton jump. Before he could respond to her accusation, Undyne grabbed him around the ankle and swung him over her shoulder.

"Undyne, put me down this instant!"

"Nuh uh, you're coming down to the station with me. You're under arrest."

Everyone started laughing and snickering at his vain attempts to release himself from her hold, Alphys and Muffet having taken out their phones to record the scene.

"Undyne, please! If you're going to insist on carrying me, at least make it a princess carry! I deserve that much!" He loudly whined.

"Now that sounds like something Mettaton would actually say…" Undyne halted her steps, pretending to be in deep thought. "Huh, maybe the wraith hasn't completely taken over yet…"

"well, you know what the legends say to do, right?" Sans grinned, walking towards the two at a leisurely pace. "when the wraith's taken over, you burn it. when there's still hope left for the poor victim, you drown it out."

"…Don't. You. Dare." Mettaton hissed.

"Grab his legs, Sans."

"you got it, boss."

Together, the two heaved the frantically wiggling Mettaton closer to the slowly moving water. He began to screech when they started swinging him back and forth.

"SHOULD WE DO SOMETHING…?" Papyrus questioned the two girls, feeling as though he should perhaps say something.

"No, dear. This is just a… how you say, a jape." Muffet giggled.

"I'm not saying anything because this should be enough payback for him erasing my downloaded Mew Mew Kissy Cutie episodes on that disc I left laying out just so he could use it."

Papyrus didn't think Alphys was the type to partake in petty revenge, but the more you know, he thought.

"Sans! Undyne! Stop this madness immediately! My fabulous hairstyle will be ruined! And my makeup will run!"

"One…! Two…! Three…!" "one…! two…! three…!"

At the count of three, they both tossed him into the river, screeching and yowling like a cat when the cool water hit his body. Undyne and Sans both gave a whoop and cheered, laughing as they bumped fists before it turned into an elaborate and handsy handshake that ended in the two playfully wrestling each other on the ground.

"PILE DRIVER!"

"ow, undyne!"

"HEADLOCK!"

"nooooo! c'mon 'dyne, is this any way to treat your partner in crime?"

"Sorry, Sans, but war takes no prisoners. You already know what's next. NOOGIE NOOGIE NOOGIE NOOGIE!"

"agh! your knuckles are sharp!"

Mettaton spluttered and was thrashing in the water, trying to flounder towards shore but failing miserably.

"Come on, Mettaton, stop being so dramatic." Undyne rolled her eyes, her arm still wrapped around Sans's neck. "You're not drowning, the water only comes up to your collarbones if you're standing up."

He immediately ceased his splashing and did as she instructed, standing on his own feet to find that what she said was correct.

"…So it seems." Was all that he said, his voice small and clearly embarrassed.

"c'mon. i'll help ya out." Sans crouched down and offered his hand.

Mettaton smiled to himself, reaching over to clasp his outstretched palm. But before he could pull Sans into the water, Sans grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder then onto the grass on his back.

"…I dislike you with great intensity." He narrowed his eyes at Sans.

"i give you points for trying though, pal."

"Okay, so I will hand it to Mettaton that he's made a good point. I don't need to rush into this blindly and risk ending up a future episode of 'Missing'." Undyne began.

"And you had to throw my poor self into the water to admit that?" He sniffed, wringing out his soaking wet hair.

"Yes. It was entirely necessary, Mettaton. To banish the wraith from your body." She nodded sagely. "Anyway, I've decided that what I'm going to do is, I'm gonna find all the maps that I can of Ebott and, ugh, study them, bleh. And Muffet, if you could lend me some of your books, I'd really appreciate it."

To no one's surprise, she retrieved a large and thick book with an ominous featureless figure on the cover out of her little black spider plushie purse that she always carried (how did she even fit it in there?) and handed it to Undyne.

"You're wasting your time, dearie."

"You'll be saying that when I've caught what you've been looking for for literal years in just a matter of days." Undyne shot back good naturedly.

"Undyne! Patience? Future episode of 'Missing'? Remember?!" Mettaton piped up again – despite being completely drenched by the two, he still cared very much about her.

"I got it, I got it. But once I'm done doing the boring part, I'm not leaving a single stone uncovered until I find a wraith! Thank you all for coming here today, but I've gotta get started! Later, dorks!"

Undyne then sped off in the direction of the town's library, or librarby, as the mispelled sign out in front stated, without another word of goodbye.

"She calls us all here suddenly and she's gone just as quickly." Mettaton remarked with a defeated sigh. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to blow dry my hair now."

"you aren't mad at us, are you?"

"…No. I'm not. It was all in good fun, after all." He then smirked. "But I'll be getting you both back for it in the future, darling. Just you wait and see."

"bring it on, matt."

"I'm afraid I have no clue who you're speaking of." He all but sang, turning around and giving everyone else a wave goodbye. "Ta-tah, darlings."

"WHAT ABOUT YOU, ALPHYS?" Papyrus asked, "HOW WILL YOU BE SPENDING YOUR EVENING?"

"I-I think I'll catch up with Undyne. If she really does want to do this, then I think I should help however I can and k-keep an eye on her so she doesn't do anything s-sudden or rash, like Mettaton said."

"OKAY! HAVE FUN!"

Once Alphys had left, it was just Sans and Papyrus with Muffet.

"i hope you aren't expecting that book to be in one piece when you get it back." Sans told her. "i dunno if you noticed, but she can be kind of rough handling things."

"Oh, that's perfectly alright, dearie. If she damages my book, I'm certain that she can reimburse me to purchase another copy."

Both brothers looked at each other with a worried frown – that book had not looked cheap.

"It's a lovely evening, isn't it, boys?" She gestured to skies above that were beginning to be tinted with orange. "A perfect evening for a mountain walk, wouldn't you agree?"

"is that what you're gonna do?"

"I'm afraid not. Mummy needs me to make a birthday cake for a customer that's coming by to pick it up tomorrow. But maybe I'll see you on the mountain trail sometime. Ciao."

"WELL, SANS, EVERYONE ELSE IS GONE WITH THE NIGHT VASTLY APPROACHING! WE SHOULD PROBABLY BOTH HEAD HOME NOW AND-"

"actually, i think i'll go do what muffet suggested and take a walk." He quickly replied, not wanting to see Gaster just yet.

"WELL, ALRIGHT…" Papyrus looked like someone had told him his dog died. "JUST DON'T STAY OUT TOO LATE, ALRIGHT? AND KEEP YOUR CELL PHONE ON YOU AT ALL TIMES! IF THE BATTERY IS RUNNING LOW, THEN COME HOME IMMEDIATELY!"

"will do. i'll see ya later, paps."

He started walking in the direction of the mountain, its magnificent shadow stretching over him and the rest of the town.

Wraiths.

He still wasn't convinced they exist.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello, dearie."

Sans nearly jumped out of his skin. He had said so earlier that Muffet should have been a cryptozoologist, but he also believed that she would make an excellent assassin with how she could quietly creep up on unsuspecting people.

"muffet! i thought you left."

"I did. And now I'm back, but only momentarily."

They were standing at the base of Mount Ebott directly in front of one of the dirt roads that led into the mountain.

"so, uh, what brings you here?"

"I wanted to show you something interesting." She smiled in a way that made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.

She moved towards a thick group of bushes and motioned for him to follow.

"…you're not going to show me a dead body, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, dearie. I said something interesting, did I not?"

She then moved aside the shrubbery to reveal a small statue that he had never seen before. It looked almost like a vase, hourglass shaped, and it seemed ancient, probably hundreds of years old.

"Now look inside it."

He did as instructed and found a large stone inside, colored red, yellow and orange, and was carved in the shape of the sun. It was resting on a pedestal of some sort and large silver prongs held the stone firmly in place to ensure it wasn't easily removed.

"I bet you had no idea this was here, did you?"

"no, i didn't. …so what is it?"

"This monument was constructed by the people of Ebott Village many centuries ago. There are more of them spread out at the base of the mountain. They were made to keep the villagers safe here, and the wraiths confined up there."

"how are these things supposed to keep them up there?"

"That stone inside the totem is a sunstone. According to gemology it's believed that they can harness the power of the sun. The combined power of these stones create a ring of protection that wards off the shadow monsters; think of it as being almost like an electric fence."

"i'd never heard that before." He rubbed his chin, leaning closer to the statue. "i can't remember ever seeing one of these things before, and they're all over the town?"

"Just around the base, but yes."

"i wonder why i never noticed them."

"They've become well hidden throughout the years. The legends began to fade out, nature's madness took over, and they were gradually forgotten. I suppose if they were well known, some might try to steal the sunstones inside. Of course, according to the old documents on them I acquired, they say misfortune falls on those that would attempt to take the stones."

Sans wasn't superstitious in the slightest, but he couldn't help but think aloud. "something still doesn't make sense, though – the myths say that wraiths would steal the bodies of humans to impersonate them. if the statues make some kind of invisible magic ring that they can't cross, why go to the trouble of stealing a body if they're stuck on the mountain?"

"Oh, Sans. Don't you see? That's precisely why they would need the body of a human." At his perplexed expression, she continued with a wry smile. "The bodies of a wraith, made of shadows, would incinerate if they made contact with the sunstone ring. So, they capture a human that wandered into their territory, hollow out the body, then liquify their own body and crawl inside so they can safely bypass the ring."

Sans felt his stomach churn at the graphic mental images she had instilled in his brain. "that's disgusting, muffet."

"Heehee! You should see your face – so sour right now." She giggled. "Well, I just thought I'd share that with you. Have fun up there, oh, and don't get eaten!"

"you're full of it, muffet!" He called out to her as she began walking away with that light girlish chuckle of hers.

"Is that any way to talk to your amicable ex-girlfriend?" She laughed.

"you're not my ex-girlfriend! it was one date, that gaster set up, and we both agreed it wasn't a real date because neither of us agreed to it."

Even though they had left the 'date' as better friends than before and Sans didn't hold any romantic feelings for her then or presently, Muffet had told him at the time that he wasn't her type. He understood entirely, she wasn't obligated to feel that way towards him even though the two did get along swimmingly when she wasn't being morbid. But he couldn't help but wonder if his looks had anything to do with her decision.

"You know I'm just teasing you, dearie. No need to get so hot under the collar. And speaking of hot, aren't you steaming by now in that hoodie?"

"a little, but it's nothing i can't handle." He didn't mind Muffet asking about his hoodie – she wouldn't look down on him for wearing it out of season because she too had a peculiar fashion sense.

"Suit yourself, dearie. Bye-bye~"

After Muffet had left, for real this time, he began his ascension up the mountain trail. The mountain didn't have any roads built on it, just traversable paths created by nature. As far as he knew, nobody lived anywhere up there despite how expansive it was. It had remained the same for centuries, devoid of modern civilization and a sanctuary for Ebott's wildlife.

The dirt roads only stretched so far before grass overtook them. From that point onward was where the mountain began looking like several different worlds had been melded together. Sans had only seen a handful of the mysterious sights Mount Ebott had to offer, but what he had seen made it sometimes worth the hike up there: a lake with waterfalls in sizes both great and small, a field of flowers that stretched on and on with no end in sight, thick forests that were so dark it was almost impossible to see your own hand in front of your face…

And that was just what he had seen with his own eyes one-third of the way up the mountain. He hadn't explored the sides of the mountain or the areas higher up, like the snowcapped top or the caves rich with odd stones and minerals. He supposed he could spend every day on this mountain for the rest of his life and still not know everything about the place. Perhaps if he continued visiting and going a little further each time, he would be the first to create a complete map of Ebott.

Sans didn't come here to chase shadows or cause trouble for the environment like most did when they passed by - he came here because it was quiet, save for the songs of birds and the wailing of the cicadas. Being surrounded by the peaceful scenery and focused on the thrill of the climb took his mind off of the problems he had left behind at home.

When he was younger, he had wanted to explore the mountain with his group of friends. They were labelled far too young for such a dangerous activity, and were consequently restricted to playing near the river bed and the small wooded areas spread around town; everyone pretended they were at Mount Ebott, but now he was living out his childhood self's dreams of adventure here in the present.

Even so, he missed those days dearly.

His younger self never imagined that everything in his life would have turned out the way it did. When he was younger, he thought his body looked the way it did because of baby fat and he would eventually grow out of it after he reached puberty. Instead, he only grew more bulky. When he was younger, he thought that he and his father would be working together as equals to revitalize the town that was considered dead-end by not only outsiders, but its own citizens. Instead, he was injured by one of his father's own creations and ruined his one chance to get an education from a prestigious academy thus estranging himself from his father, and the townspeople still wanted to leave and would complain whenever they did and came back.

Sans hadn't been in a rush to grow up when he was a child, but he thought that it would have been more fun than what it turned out to be.

He was the one out of the group that was supposed to soar above them all in terms of success, and he had sunken below them all.

Papyrus was doing the exact same thing he was doing; completing odd jobs around town, but he was only doing that to gain experience and had plenty of drive. Undyne was bettering herself every day and was aiming for a higher position in Ebott's police force even if her methods of attempting to do so were insane in his eyes. Alphys had more or less taken his place as Gaster's first hand assistant in the lab after he quit having anything to do with science – he didn't hold it against Alphys at all even though she apologized constantly for it even in the present, he was the one that chose to quit. Even Mettaton had a better future planned for himself than him; yes, he was a bit in over his head with his dream of instantly achieving fame and becoming a star, but Sans had to admit that he was creative and talented in some aspects. He might not achieve prime stardom like he wanted, but Sans wouldn't be surprised if he did aquire a little slice of recognition in the future.

Everyone else seemed to know exactly what it was they were doing with their lives.

He didn't have a clue anymore.

There existed legends of people that climbed the mountain only to disappear without a trace. Paranormal explanations or not, there still existed records of persons that were last seen heading towards the mountain then never heard from again. That was many years ago though, and nobody has been reported missing in this town in over a hundred years.

But, if he were to disappear, Sans wondered, would he be missed…?

He rapidly shook his head, immediately banishing the intrusive thought. Of course he would be missed; Toriel would grieve for him if something ever happened to cut his life short, his friends would mourn, and Papyrus… Papyrus would never be the same without him. If Sans died, he would be taking a piece of his brother with him.

He didn't know why such a thought would enter his head in the first place; even though his life had been turned on its head, he had a great group of friends and he appreciated being alive.

But he still could have lived without the permanent marks on his arms. They were throbbing painfully under his sleeves, and he hadn't brought any medicine with him to ease the sensation.

Sans could hear the sound of running water up ahead after a while longer of walking. He came to a clearing where the river was and looked both left and right to see if it was safe to shed his hoodie. He wasn't sure what he was looking for; all that was here in this area were birds, and they couldn't blab his secret to the town.

He slid his arms out of the sleeves, crouched down by the rocky mountain riverbed and dipped them into the clean cool water. It soothed the angry enflamed marks on his skin, but only a little. Not even the balms and creams Toriel prescribed to him completely eased the pain.

He had been in near constant pain since the accident, and he wondered if that was how he would be spending the rest of his life despite Toriel's reassurances.

Sans had allowed himself to relax for a few minutes, listening to the wind blow through the nearby tree branches as he tended to his wounds. Every muscle, every joint in his body locked up when he heard the bushes on the other side of the river rustle.

It didn't sound like a small creature made the noise. He hurriedly yanked his arms from the water and threw on his hoodie before scrambling for the thickets on his own side of the river. If he left now, he would be creating too much noise, so he would wait it out until whatever it was left.

The creature's footsteps sounded too light to be a bear but too heavy for a raccoon or possum. He waited, concealing himself in the shrubbery until only his eyes were peeking out between the leaves. The sounds gradually grew closer as the seconds ticked by, buy Sans felt like he had been waiting for the noisemaker to show itself for hours.

Finally, it stepped out of the forest, and he was surprised to find himself looking at a girl.

At least, she appeared to be a girl. And she was wearing incredibly bizarre clothing; a large floppy pointed hat and a long sleeved robe that stretched down to her feet. Her hair was unusually long as well, reaching past her waist. But the most unusual thing about this girl was her skin – it was dark. Beyond dark. Blacker than black.

And her eyes. As she came closer towards the river bed, even at this distance, he could see them clearly, constrasting with the blackness of her face. They were two pretty gray blue spheres, glowing and the color of celestite.

He had one blue eye as well, but he liked the shade of hers more. They held a mysterious quality to them that he felt his didn't.

Oh, but it was obvious to him that she was wearing contacts and this wasn't her real eye color. People's eyes didn't glow like that. People didn't dress like that normally either, so she must be wearing a costume. But what would she be doing way out here in the mountain wilderness wearing what looked like a wraith costume? Was it some sort of prank?

Everything made sense now – those photos Undyne saw must have been of this girl. People were beginning to believe that she was a real monster. Sans was all for playing good harmless pranks, but this one was dangerous. Someone might see her like that and a very gun happy person might mistake her for something otherworldly and shoot her, he thought.

He had planned on leaving when she did, but he felt the need to warn her.

Sans was about to step out from the bushes but froze when she suddenly slowly raised her arms into the air and her chest began to glow with a white light.

She began singing in a strange tongue unfamiliar to him,

 amita ibiria amore

amita sibidia samora

mia sari mi ia…

Her voice was deeper than he would have expected and melancholy, almost mournful in tone. It pulled at his heart in a strange way he couldn't quite describe. Calming, yet sorrowful all the same. But he didn't have long to dwell on her song itself before he had something entirely different to focus on.

The flowing water in the river abruptly stirred, unnatural ripples beginning to form on the surface. From one side of the riverbank to the other, large stones from the river's bottom rose up to create a sturdy pathway, stable enough for one to walk across without fear of it crumbling and whoever was on top falling in.

The girl lifted her robe slightly and placed one foot, covered in what looked like a sandal ethnic in design onto the makeshift bridge. Satisfied that it was secure, she stepped onto the rocks and began slowly making her way across. As she did, the stones that had meshed together became undone and sunk back down to the watery depths behind her as she again sang in that undecipherable language,

amita ibiria amore

sia a sibiria samora

mia sari…

When she reached the other side of the riverbank safely, whatever was left of the pathway had crumbled away by the time her singing ceased. Sans was stunned and in disbelief – despite his earlier skepticism, he couldn't deny what he had seen was magic. Magic fueled by the power of this strange girl's voice.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, this girl was a wraith.

"muffet would probably kill a man in cold blood to be in my place right now."

But then a realization hit him that made his heart drop down to his stomach:

This girl was a wraith.

A shadow monster.

A creature of legend.

And in those legends, the wraiths murdered people to snatch their bodies.

If she saw him, would she try to end his life? At this thought, his heart began pounding with fear when moments before it had been from wonder.

He needed to get away without being noticed, but how?

Sans didn't get to think of an effective strategy before he was spotted. The wraith was standing no less than three feet away from where he was crouched, staring down at him with slightly widened half lidded eyes that Sans couldn't decide whether it made her appear adorably sleepy or incredibly seductive.

Either way, she was standing over him and he had very little time to think of a way to escape her shadowy clutches before she pounced him.

He quickly rose to his feet, but before he could move another inch the wraith let out a tiny squeak and scrambled backwards with widened eyes and a heaving chest. That was a curious response, he thought.

Common sense told him that now would be an opportune moment to run, but curiosity told him that he should test this. Curse the scientist that was still within him.

Instead of fleeing, he took a step towards her and guaged her reaction. The monster girl let out another distressed cry and scurried away from him until her heels were one inch from her being in the river – one more step, even a little one, and she would fall in.

Oh the irony.

She was afraid of him.

Well that simply wouldn't do.

For reasons he couldn't quite begin to ponder, the idea of a girl, even a monster girl, being afraid of him didn't sit well with Sans.

He smiled at her in a manner that he hoped appeared friendly and inviting.

"hey," She flinched at the sound of his voice, but he continued. "it's alright. no need to feel scared. 'm not gonna hurt ya, see?"

He held out his hand towards her, but it didn't appear she had listened to or understood a word he was saying because she let out a small scream and stumbled backwards, nearly falling headfirst into the river.

And she would have, if he hadn't rushed forward to catch her.

Everything around them stilled. It seemed as though even the birds in the trees and the water below them had hushed to gawk at the sheer novelty of the situation they were in. She was bent backwards, feet barely on the ground and he was holding her with one hand around her shoulders and the other wound around her lower back. And they were looking each other directly in the eye.

She was so tiny compared to him.

It was just like a scene from one of Alphys's cheesy shoujo mangas, he would acknowledge later, but while in the moment, he was rendered speechless from the suddenness of the occurrence. Her skin was cold, he noticed, the closest comparison he could think of being as if she had been sitting in front of a powerful air conditioner for several hours.

Both remained motionless for an undisclosed amount of time until the wraith started trembling in his arms, wiggling to get out of his grip.

"stop it. if i let you go now you'll tumble right in. i don't think you went to the trouble to make a bridge before just to get wet, did you?"

But she only squirmed harder, and he almost dropped her a few times during this short duration. When she showed no sign of complying to his reasonable request for her sake, he yanked her closer to him and tried to step away from the river with her.

The river was different up here compared to in town; the water moved faster and if she fell in and didn't know how to swim, she could easily drown. That is, if she needed to breathe in order to live. But Sans wasn't about to take any chances and just assumed that she needed to.

Their chests were now pressed up against each other. The thrum of her chest didn't match his – it didn't sound anything like a human's heart beat should, and though he was entirely unfamiliar with this creature's biology, he could tell that it was thrumming faster than it normally would.

Thump… thump… thump…

But it was still far too slow for any healthy human's heartbeat to sound. If he didn't believe that she was something paranormal before, he would have now.

Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulders, small hands shoving at his chest and clawing at his wrists to get him to release her, and several shaky sounds escaped from her throat all the while, noises that he assumed must have been unsuccessful attempts at using her voice-based magic. Only when they were both at a safe distance from the water did he release her.

She instantly sprang away from him, turning her back to Sans and fleeing into the thick expanse of trees, blending into the shadows of the forest around her perfectly and rendering her invisible.

Sans lingered around the area just long enough to regain his breath, but he had seen enough for one day – it was time to go home.

By the time he reached his house, Papyrus had finished making dinner but Gaster still wasn't home yet, which was fine for Sans, but his brother despaired over another portion of his cooking going to waste if their father didn't return that night. Sometimes, as Sans occasionally stayed at Grillby's home until things blowed over, so did Gaster, but with Asgore at the Dreemur residence.

A few hours later, it was made clear that tonight was going to be one of those nights, so in order to spare Papyrus's feelings over his culinary creation going unconsumed, Sans ate Gaster's share. Which would only add a few more pounds to his already plump figure, he lamented.

He didn't tell Papyrus about his encounter on the mountain before heading upstairs to his room. Would his brother even believe him? He could barely believe it himself, and it had happened to him! And he couldn't stop thinking about it either. Usually, most people did one of two things when encountering the unknown; tell everyone they knew and didn't know about it, or they kept it to themselves for the rest of their lives. He wasn't sure if he could do either.

After a while of trying to distract his mind by watching television, playing a game, or reading, he finally gave up. He couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting to the wraith he had seen, spoken to, and even touched.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a sketchbook; it had once been filled with formulas and sketches for inventions when he was Gaster's apprentice, but he had since torn those out and filled the empty book with random drawings and doodles. He opened the book and stopping at a blank page, then began sketching the best he could from his memory.

Sans didn't know how long he had spent there, but it was pitch black outside by the time he finished. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was something that he could remember this day by. He had a feeling though that he would never forget what happened today, even if he tried from this point onward to forget.

And he was right; he never did forget this day.

Because today was the beginning of an entirely new world being opened for Sans and his brother.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Sans awoke to what sounded like Gaster clambering around downstairs below his room. So he had come home at some point. He rolled over to face his clock and saw that it was eleven thirty. Not surprising, since he had stayed up late last night. Dear old dad wouldn't be happy with him that he slept the morning away once again, but in his defense, as he said yesterday, Grillby would still be serving from his breakfast menu right now.

He took a shower then cautiously made his way to the kitchen. To his surprise, Gaster and Papyrus were actually eating at the table. Both of them looked up from their meals to stare at him, and he felt out of place for not the first time in this household since the accident.

Sans briefly wondered if his brother and Gaster would get along just fine if he weren't around.

But then again, Gaster might shift his scientific prodigy-making plan onto his brother or Alphys if he didn't keep watch over him. It seemed he would have to continue being a nuisance for their safety and wellbeing.

He pulled up a chair and sat down without a word.

"You're late. As per usual."

"if i'm late then so are you. you're eating breakfast too."

Gaster didn't appreciate that at all, glowering at him from across the table. Papyrus quickly looked for a topic to lighten the mood.

"D-DID I MENTION THAT UNDYNE HAS BEEN WORKING HARD FOR A PROMOTION LATELY?!" He all but squawked.

"Is that so…?" Their father quirked an eyebrow at his youngest son's squirrely behavior then took a nonchalant sip of his coffee. "Ah, speaking of recent news, have either of you heard about what's been happening on Mount Ebott lately?"

"…" Neither said a word.

Gaster continued anyway regardless. "The people of this town are saying that they're catching glimpses of monsters in the mountain's wilderness. Can you imagine such a thing? What utter nonsense.

"yup. utter nonsense." Sans nearly choked on his mouthful of pancake.

"Some are even planning on hiking up the mountain to seek them out. I've never heard such insanity in all my life. Now listen, the both of you: I don't want either of you going up that mountain, mythical beasts or not. I can't have the people of Ebott thinking you're caught up in the frenzy of hunting for them too. And even if they did exist, which they most certainly do not, I wouldn't want you interacting with such creatures."

"uh-huh. i gotcha."

"If these people have time to be chasing shadows, then they have plenty to spare on actually putting effort into revitalizing the town instead of always complaining about what we don't have."

"yup, what a complete waste of valuable time…"

"You have little room to speak, Sans. You lollygag about just as much as the rest of the townspeople these days."

"tell that to the stack of cash i earned this week working my butt off around town." He rebutted, stabbing his fork into the sausage on his plate.

"Yes, you really raked it in this week, you think. If you were living on your own, that amount wouldn't keep you afloat in the slightest."

"well, from the sound of your tone, it sounds like you really want me to leave and never come back. maybe i should."

Sans had tried moving out directly after he had gotten expelled, but he wouldn't leave without his brother and Papyrus remained firm on staying. Papyrus had created a stalemate; he couldn't leave until things either got better between him and Gaster, or Sans decided to go without his brother. Sans didn't see either happening anytime soon.

"Was that supposed to be a threat? If so, it was entirely ineffective."

"PLEASE, DON'T FIGHT YOU TWO. CAN'T WE HAVE A NICE BREAKFAST TOGETHER LIKE WE USED TO?"

"No, Papyrus, I don't think that's possible anymore. Your brother, despite being the older of the two of you, can't seem to be a mature adult for longer than two minutes and keep his temper in check."

Sans wanted so badly to retaliate, but he held his tongue once again. He stood up from his seat, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor as he did so. His meal was left unfinished, he mentally noted, but he had lost his appetite anyway.

Just as yesterday, he made his way towards the front door.

"And just where do you think you're going? I haven't finished speaking!"

He remembered what Toriel had told him to say.

"i'm sorry, but i don't feel ready to talk yet."

He reached for the doorknob and Gaster rose up from his own seat. He swiftly paced over to Sans, and in his haste in preventing him from leaving, roughly grabbed his arm.

Sans screamed.

His yowl of pure pain snapped Gaster out of his anger, but it was too late – the damage had been done. His son spun around to look at him, large mismatched eyes moist and filled with confusion and betrayal, then mistrust and anger.

"I-I'm so sorry! I… I didn't mean to, Sans! You have to believe me, I would never-" But he had. "…Let me see it."

Sans instinctively wrenched himself away from him, cradling his arm.

"SANS, PLEASE DON'T GO! FATHER SHOULDN'T HAVE GRABBED YOU SO SUDDENLY, BUT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! HE DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT YOU!"

Accident.

Accident. Accident. Accident.

Everything was always an accident when he and Gaster were involved. Their entire relationship now had been reduced to one long continuous stream of accidents.

And he just couldn't take it anymore.

Sans turned his back on him and ran out the door as fast as his ligs would carry him, hearing Gaster and Papyrus yell for him behind, but he didn't dare stop or even slow down. He wasn't even sure where he was going, anywhere that wasn't back there.

He found himself going exactly where his father had told him not to go just minutes earlier: Mount Ebott. He wondered if his body was subconsciously spiting Gaster now. He continued running until his legs nearly gave out, stopping at another clearing – a picturesque woodland area.

He sat himself down on a conveniently placed large boulder nearby to catch his breath, wanting to bawl his heart out from the pain enflared in his arm.

Gaster had grabbed him.

He had never done that before. But he just had to grab his burnt arms, didn't he? He was one of the few people that held knowledge of his burns, and he had just unconsciously used his injury against him.

This was it. Nothing between him and Gaster was ever going to get any better.

He heard rustling in the area nearby, just like yesterday evening. Curiosity once again taking presedence over pain, he crept closer towards the sounds to see what he would find making them. Over by a thicket of berry bushes, he found the noisemaker.

It was her again.

She looked exactly the same as yesterday, the only difference being the leather bag she wore over her shoulder. She seemed to be holding a glass container of some sort, picking berries from the bushes and dropping them in, letting out a soft happy-sounding hum as she did so.

Would she run away again if she saw him?

Before he could ponder too much on this, his mouth started running ahead of him.

"hey, it's, uh, me again." He called out to her.

She stiffened, turning her head around slowly to peer at him. He smiled awkwardly and raised one hand up, gradually, since the last time he moved too quickly she didn't respond well. The wraith stared at him for an extended period of time, wordless, before turning her attention back to the berry bush.

Her posture wasn't anywhere near as relaxed as it was before he revealed himself and she had stopped humming.

"i'm sorry about suddenly, you know… grabbing you yesterday. i just didn't want you to fall in the river."

"…"

"so, do you come here often…?" He was grasping at straws.

"…"

"do you have a name? i can just call you 'ghoulie' if you won't tell me."

"…"

"do you… understand a word i'm saying? at all?"

"…"

To his surprise, she actually turned around to face him, studying him intently before giving a small nod.

"…you do understand? what I've been saying? everything?"

Another nod.

"then why aren't you talking to me? did i offend you or something?"

"…"

"ugh, fine. be that way." He groaned, spinning on his heel and then sitting down on the ground right there, crossing his arms with a huff and his back turned to her.

A few more moments of silence passed, when suddenly he heard a tiny voice,

"...…Scary."

"…huh?"

"…Scary."

"sorry, i didn't catch that?"

"Scary. You're… scary."

She spoke in the same manner as someone that had gone an extended amount of time without using their voice; hesitant, soft and unsure of their words. Putting that thought to the side, he focused more on her words themselves.

"scary? me?" He pointed to himself, dumbfounded.

Yet another nod.

Sans stared at her, probably slackjawed as he thought,

"i must be pretty dang ugly if a monster thinks i'm scary…"

So, he decided to question her further,

"what is it about me that makes me seem scary to you?"

"…I …don't know you."

Well, if that really was the only reason why she was afraid of him, they could easily fix that, he thought.

He turned around and stood up, stepping over to her until he was towering over the girl.

She was petrified to the spot.

"you're right, you don't know me. but you will soon. and do you know why?"

He was trying to be funny, leaning downwards until their noses were nearly touching, and whispered,

"because we're going to be best friends you and i."

Sans shouldn't have been surprised when she let out a startled shriek, but he was, and he was startled even further when something collided painfully against his cheek with a loud smack – her hair?

A section of her tendril-like hair was raised unnaturally in the air, much like an octopus's tentacle ready to strike again. But the expression on her face said that she hadn't meant to do that at all, seeming almost sympathetic but still overrode with fear.

Before he could even begin to apologize for making things worse, he was suddenly violently shoved onto the ground landing on his behind. A third figure had intercepted his path to the girl – it was another wraith.

This one was redheaded and had eyes the color of blood. She was glaring down at him almost murderously, the green robe she was wearing fluttering around her as the wind shifted ominously around her. She bent downwards, her face hovering over his.

"Stay. Away. From. My. SISTER!"

Her face suddenly changed shape, looking far less like a woman in cosplay and more like the very terrifying creatures of legend they had been described as. The smaller and timid wraith clung to the other wraith now identified as her sister and quivered. The green clothed one was just about to pounce and most certainly put an end to his life when something stopped her,

"SANS! WHERE ARE YOU?! SAAAAAAANS?!"

Papyrus was looking for him somewhere in the distance. Sans turned towards the direction he heard his voice, but when he turned back to the wraiths, they were both backing away from him and the area entirely, clinging to each other as if they were one another's lifeline. The blue eyed shadow had her head tucked into the other's shoulder while the redheaded one scowled at him.

 camita sora mia

ii sama dite doche

miketa amia

ideta asomarita

ii tento mia dora

ii sama vida doche

ii seta madora

iria ia dileto

 This other wraith's voice was higher and stronger in tone and volume. The trees around the two, spaced out considerably suddenly began to huddle together, creating a massive shadow with their foliage that stretched several yards wide. The two then stepped backwards into the created shade and faded from view, the last thing Sans saw being her red eyes piercing through the darkness before they too faded out.

"SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE ON THE GROUND? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU'RE NOT HURT, ARE YOU?!"

Papyrus rushed to his side moments later, apparently not having seen anything to do with the shadow monsters. He had shown up just in time, too.

Sans wanted to answer that he was alright, but he somehow found himself laughing instead.

"SANS, WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? YOU'RE BEGINNING TO SCARE ME…"

Sans was scared too. Scared and excited all at once. He had never felt anything like it. He then flopped on his back in his hysterics, tears nearly streaming down his face as he laughed, clutching his stomach.

Later, when he thought about why he might have laughed so hard, instead of believing it to have been a delayed reaction to all the tension he had felt in that perilous moment and his body had released it by laughing it off, he concluded it was because, even though that other wraith had been ready to kill him where he stood…

He still wanted to meet that softspoken monster girl again.

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

I Could Use A Hug (Uni!Yoongi Oneshot)

1. “Can you please come and get me?”

4. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

20. “I could really just use a hug right now.”

Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader

Genre: University!Au, fluff

Warnings: insomnia, allusions to depression, signs/symptoms of depression and/or anxiety (if you or someone you know is struggling, don’t be afraid to seek help)

Word Count: 2.3k words

The thrum of rain drops pelting every surface around you dulled your senses and fogged your aching mind. You could barely see two feet in front of you, the darkness surrounding you only broken by the sparse light of the street lamps that became farther and fewer the longer you walked.

You weren’t sure how long you had been walking, hell, you weren’t sure where your feet were taking you anymore. All you knew is that you couldn’t lie there and pretend like everything was alright; like your mind wasn’t tearing itself apart bit by bit for seemingly no reason, and no matter how much you wanted to believe that closing your eyes and forcing it all away would work, in the end, it never would.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept, really slept, and the nightmares in your head seemed to enjoy their slow torment of you from the inside out.

You’re friends would tell you you’re in your head too much; your parents that it’s stress and lack of a proper routine. None of them seemed to dig deeper, try and see that you’ve tried every solution you could think of to fix their idea of the problem, and that none of them worked.

Then again, why should you expect outsiders to know all the answers when you can’t even pinpoint the why yourself.

So instead of staring at your ceiling and letting your mind run rampant with negative thoughts that feed off your sleep-deprived brain, you decide that taking a walk in the pouring rain at 2 a.m. alone would distract you from everything going on in your consciousness.

Only now, sitting on a rickety bench on the side of some street you’ve never heard of, illuminated only by the blinking bulb of a street lamp 20 ft away, you realize that there is no way to outrun this. And, honestly, your exhausted from running this marathon alone.

Wiping away the rain streaming down your face, that may nor may not have been mostly tears that you hadn’t even known had started spilling, you take out your phone to stare at the screen.

3:45 a.m.

“I shouldn’t bother him.” You whisper to yourself, although you bring up your contacts and push the one your looking for anyways. As you hold the phone to your ear, the dial tone ringing through your mind, you curse yourself for being so thoughtless.

How dare you call him when he’s just trying to sleep, knowing he’s probably been up late working, and expect him to drop everything for you. He probably won’t even answer the pho-

“Hello?” A raspy voice cuts through your intrusive thoughts and it takes all you have not to breakdown right then and there. You knew he’d already be worried by the time and nature of the call, no need to add in your hysterical sobbing.

“Y/N? Hey... are you okay?” Yoongi asks, and you can tell he’s getting more worried by the second, and you need to hurry up and find something to say before he panics.

Clearing your throat and taking a deep breath, “Can you please come and get me?”

You hated the way your voice cracked and how needy you sounded, having half a mind to just tell him it was a joke or something and hang up.

You hear him shuffling around, no doubt getting dressed and grabbing his keys, already one foot out the door.

“Of course, where are you?” His voice is soft, calming, and despite the weight it lifts off of your shoulders, you can’t help the pang of guilt that rumbles through your chest for dragging him into your bullshit all the time (though he’d tell you it’s not bullshit and he’s happy to help).

Your eyes dart around your surroundings, trying to find an indicator to your location, spotting a street sign a few yards away, relaying the information to Yoongi.

After a few seconds of what you’re assuming is him getting in his car and trying to figure out exactly where you are, he clears his throat, “Alright, stay there, I’ll be there in, like, 15 minutes...20 minutes top,” And then hangs up the phone to begin the journey.

Slowly tucking your phone back into your pocket, you discover that the rain pelting down just a mere few minutes ago has died down to a light drizzle. It’s a cool evening, but not uncomfortably cold, though you felt so numb right now you doubt you’d have noticed otherwise.

Left alone to your thoughts once again, counting down the seconds till Yoongi would arrive to save you yet again from yourself, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander to the first time you met him.

You hadn’t been quite the mess you were now, freshly out of high school, entering uni and the real world with a blind sense of optimism that would soon be crushed under the immense weight of classes and college life that you’d been naive enough not to wholly consider beforehand.

Yoongi had already, as he likes to say it, “cracked the code” of university life, handling the stresses of student life with ease. Knew exactly what classes to take and avoid, which professors he could swindle, what work he could get away with skipping, and avoided campus social life like the plague. As far as he was concerned, this shit was a breeze and he’d be out before he knew it, degree in hand and job secured through suckering some admin for sweet connections.

He’d never guess he’d get swept up in your steep downward spiral into oblivion when he bumped into you, a happy-go-lucky freshie, that night he decided to let Hoseok drag him to some random new student event in the music hall despite his aversion to such poorly planned social nightmares. In all honesty, he would’ve just ignored you if you hadn’t asked him, quite honestly, where you could get a shot of whatever made him so “incredibly apathetic and disinterested.”

No one had ever really approached Yoongi in the 2 years that he’d been there, except for Hoseok and a few other guys that frequented their shared dorm, let alone a girl. He’s not sure if it was your blind boldness or your Arcadian demeanor that drew him in, but he won’t lie that he’s glad it happened, because you ended up being the best friend he never knew he needed (and the same goes for you.)

Yoongi was there through finals, bad blind dates, terrible roommates; everything. That kind of friendship also came with a front row seat to watch as your mental health deteriorated, with no sure fire way to help you, and it killed him inside.

Soon life was filled with insomniatic episodes that could last for days, a bad caffeine addiction, and an impending sense of doom looming over your shoulder every second of every day, and Yoongi felt like the only thing he could do was watch it all unfold. He was scared of saying the wrong thing, pushing you further into the black hole you edged closer to, and he didn’t want to lose the closest friend he’d ever had.

He quickly learned that just being there and listening when you needed it was the one thing you needed, and he happened to be pretty freaking good at it.

You’ve been up for 13 hours straight working on the exact same assignment? Let’s take a break and watch your favorite movie.

You’re roommate kicked you out again because she can’t deal with you being up for 3 nights in a row? Crash at my place and we can cuddle (which ultimately puts you to sleep, even if just for a little while most nights).

You’re crying for the 5th time today and you have no idea why? I’ll put on some calming music and crush you in a bear hug until you have no more tears left to cry.

Yoongi didn’t need an explanation or any answers, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Admit it or not, he’d come to love every single piece, every inch, every molecule of you, and he hated to see the person he loved in pain.

So getting an S.O.S. call at 3 a.m., knowing that in your weakest moment you needed him and only him, sleep didn’t mean anything to him anymore, in fact nothing else did. You were his top priority and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And so there he was, in his pajamas and a sweatshirt, hair sticking out in all directions, on his way to a random street across town in the middle of the night with only one thing one his mind. You.

He could tell by your voice that you’d had a rough night, considering he’s been present every other time, and he know the signs when he hears them. The fact that you’d gone so far, alone, in the dark, scared him; you’d never done anything quite so reckless in the time he’s known you, and the the fact that you weren’t in the right state of mind had him picking up the pace, urgent to get to you as quickly (but still safely) as possible.

Yoongi learned early on that even though you had a calm and serene attitude, you took things to heart easily, and the more that piled on you, the harder time you had digging your way out. You were very good at hiding how negatively things affected you, and you always put others before yourself, even when the only person desperate for help was you.

He didn’t really understand how someone so in tune with others feeling and emotions, could be so blind to her own. Sometimes you’d even skip meals working yourself into a frenzy, but still manage to scold him for not eating the proper amount of meals per day.

Sometimes, he thought, it was as if you didn’t see yourself as a living, breathing, person that needed everything you were so willing to give to others. Whether you were selfless or stupid, that was a debate for another time.

Turning down the right street, he finally caught a glimpse of the girl he’d been looking for. Your hair was soaked, along with your clothes, and you stared off at the road with an empty look in your eyes. Parking and shutting his car off, Yoongi hopped out and approached you cautiously, shrugging off his sweatshirt as he went.

Your mind finally broke from it’s thoughts to see Yoongi handing you his sweatshirt. When you didn’t reach out to grab it, he quickly moved closer, pulling it over your head and helping your arms through. When you were situated in the warmth of it, the familiar smell of him flooding your senses, it was then that you finally woke up and looked him in the eyes.

You could tell he was tired by the slight discoloration under his puffy eyes, but the emotion that swirled through them was one you had seen him wear quite often when these things happened; sadness.

Without saying anything, he slowly reached out, taking your frail, chilled hand in his, rubbing it to bring back some warmth. You smiled slightly, though tears still spilled from your eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” He asked, continuing his ministrations, searching through the storm that raged on in your eyes.

You shrugged, a long, exhausted sigh escaping your lips.

“Not that long.” You lied, and he saw right through it, not only because he could tell by just looking at you, but he knew it’d had to be significantly longer than usual for this sort of thing to occur.

When you looked back at him, he continued to burn through your facade with his gaze till you broke.

“Like... 6...6 days.”

There was a short silence between the two of you as everything sort of sank in. It wasn’t unlike you to survive on a few hours of sleep, or maybe go 2-3 days without it, but never this long. Why didn’t you tell him beforehand? Why didn’t he notice?

“You know,” he begins, bringing your attention back to his face, which softens as he takes in just how tired and sad you looked, “if you need help, any kind, I’ll be right there for you.”

You’re a bit surprised by his statement. You know you’ve been in a bad state for a while, and he knows it too, but the topic of getting help outside of the two of you hadn’t really been discussed. Not that you were opposed to it, it just never crossed your mind.

Your silence seemed to worry him, making him add, “if you want, whenever you’re ready, and if you’re not, well, then that’s okay too....because I’m here for you, not matter what, and-“

Your light giggle breaks him from his tangent, and his mouth turns up in a half smile when he sees you wipe your eyes and turn to him, the life seeming to slowly trickle back into your eyes again.

“Ok.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, slight worry etching back onto his face even though he tried his best to remain as composed as possible for your sake. You nodded, and he gripped your hand tighter.

“Ok, when do you want to-“

“We can figure that out later.” You interrupt, the fatigue cutting through the bit of energy you seemed to gather just being in the presence of the most important person in your life.

He senses you fading, and lifts his other hand to rub your back.

“You know what though?” You say, causing him to tilt his head in question, awaiting your response.

“I could really just use a hug right now.” And without any hesitation, you’re wrapped tightly in his arms, face buried in his chest as his lips place a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, you know that right?” You mumble into him, and you can feel his body shake a bit with his light chuckle.

“I love you too, now let’s go home.”

————————————————————————————

This is my first attempt at a short prompt imagine type thingy, hope you all enjoy, and if you find any mistakes or have any questions, let me know! Feel free to message me for requests, I’ll try my best to answer if I can! I have lots of drabbles, imagines, and fics planned for this blog so stay tuned!

-Moonie🌙