#also flesh and flowers are one of my favorite combinations

[fey--wolf]

‘carter, you’re but a piece of art... literally‘

it’s... too long to explain, actually. wish i could hide some drawings under the spoiler but we can’t have everything at once

[murphy-kitt]

Yoooo! Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💚

Thank you to @darthfrodophantom for also tagging me in another post! :)

I have 69 (nice) works on AO3 so there was quite a lot to go through.

1. red in tooth and claw (that’s your fatal flaw)

Summary: Everyone finds out Wes was right in the worst way possible.

Reason: This was the first fic I wrote in phicphight ‘22, my first year of participating for the event. I remember loving writing this in the moment and beginning to flesh out Wes’ character in my style. It was the first time he had a main POV in my fics. It definitely took me out my comfort zone as I had to take Wes, someone who wants his discoveries to be known, and reduce him to this subdued bystander facing the realisation that although he did want to reveal Danny, he never thought it through or considered the impacts.

2. lie like a tombstone (yet secrets will bloom)

Summary: Valerie finds a body in the park thanks to some ghostly flowers, and she never would’ve guessed that it belonged to Phantom. Only, the context around his death sounds.. concerning. Because he died alone. And no one ever reported him missing. But that just barely scratches the surface of Phantom’s secrets.

Reason: This fic is so self indulgent it’s actually ridiculous. 35k+ (and ongoing) words of a corpse au and no one knows au mashup with me trying to keep the mystery up as long as possible. I’ve been working on it for two years now, it’s seen me through college, and who knows how long forever more. I appreciate this fic a lot, because it’s a massive motivator for me to keep writing and reminds me that I am capable of longfics outside of one-shots. The Val and Wes team up was unexpected when it began but honestly one of my fav combinations of characters to write. Of course it’s also a big favourite because it’s a corpse au ❤️🤌.

3. Mask

Summary: Danny never really took a minute to consider what he looked like in Phantom form. He didn’t need to, not really. It wasn’t as if he was scared of what was under the mask. No, not at all.

Reason: another self indulgent fic. It was Ectober 2021 and I saw this prompt and went “yup it’s danno has a HAZMAT hood time”. I loved writing the reveal scene in this the most, when the Fentons and Val realise that Phantom is just this kid with no evil intent (best genre of fics imo). Also the opportunity for a sequel is prevalent—although I’m unsure if I’ll go ahead with that. I put a lot of work trying to get the build up and reveal done smoothly.

4. Forest Fires

Summary: 1967. Nine-year-old Madeleine Walker watched her older brother Daniel Walker die in a lab accident. Years on, she’s certain that Danny Phantom is the ghost of her dead brother. But she’ll never know now, having thrown away the opportunity in a fleeting moment of anger. Meanwhile, a confused Danny sets out to uncover what happened to the uncle he didn’t even know existed. Only the truth is much more than just a simple lab accident.

Reason: although only one chapter and two prequel one-shots at the minute, this AU/series is something I’m very proud of. I’ve planned a lot out for it and I can’t wait to get all the mysteries set and unravelling. Maddie’s portrayal of character I feel satisfied with considering the turmoil over her brother and having to deal with Danny’s changing behaviour. Excited to get this one going again. Also love it because I get to include my OCs 😁.

5. beyond false pretences (we search in plain sight)

Summary: Danny Fenton disappeared without a trace. Soon after, his family followed. Five years on, Sam Manson is determined to figure out why.

Reason: This was my third phicphight fic in 2022 (I seemed to have really liked my fics that event 😆) and I saw the prompt and ran with it. I particularly love writing mystery and suspense so this was very fun to do. Unfortunately it’s not finished but I like what I’ve done so far. I loved putting the easter-eggs within the fic and seeing if readers could spot them. And it was great fun to see people theorising on what they thought had happened to Danny.

I’m going to tag: @jadenoryuu @kawaiijohn @dp-marvel94 @jackdaw-sprite @cleanlenins

[wolfy1298]

Hum for the art request, do Farore from LoZ (however you imagine her), planting flowers/any plants using a skull (human or not) as a pot inspire you ?

Just in case you think I'm creepy for suggesting that I swea' I didn't mean to T^T. It's just idea symbolize the cycle of Life and Death T^T

Well you don't like it, then here is a question to sociolize :D ! I really love your animation, how do you come up with idea for them ?

I probably won’t have time to do the drawing request but it’s definitely a neat idea, so if anyone else is interested, here ya go!

As for my animation, I’m assuming you mean the animatics I’ve made? I don’t know which specific one you’re referring to so I’ll just answer it for all of them.

Ravio Singing about the LU bois: I had that song on repeat for who knows how long and went “ya know, this could be funny”

The AI one: I watch to much Vocaloid/Megaman/Digimon and technology tends to die at my hands so I figured why not combine all of it to explain my curse. I initially came up with the characters back in high school and I’ve just fleshed it out over the years for portfolio pieces. …..I realize that I never posted this? I don’t think???? My bad but here’s art for the characters

The Witch and Cat one: This was for my Storyboard class and we had the prompt “a pet owner drops some food, their pet eats it, and it becomes a monster”. I didn’t want to make my pet a scary monster and I had been researching Grimm’s Fairytales and German architecture for a different class at the same time so I kinda just used what I had and went with a story of a magic potion going wrong.

The Robot one: like the Cat one, this was also for school and based off a (more complex) prompt. Thankfully for me (and unfortunately for all you poor souls thinking that it would be happy), it was based off of one of my favorite tropes so I had a strong idea of what I wanted to do right off the bat. Something about robots discovering human emotions and not being able to handle it or embracing them despite it resulting in their break down always seems to get to me. And I was handed that on a silver platter mwahahaha. I also love ballet and music so I kinda just combined everything for a nice sucker punch right in the heart.

[a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten]

your storyshift au looks super interesting!! (and we actually shared similar concepts for our respective aus lol) really looking forward to how it plays out

if possible i would like a bit more info about the settings, they look super cool already based on their inspirations but i would like to know if there’s other certain buildings/architecture/etc you’re planning to include in these locations as well :)

Heya! Glad you're interested in Storyshift! (NGL I was a bit worried at first that Redswap was a bit too similar to my own AU, but I understand it was a coincidence hehe).

As for places in SequenceShift, my personal favorite is Lakeside Village. This homely little place combines elements from Snowdin and the Honeydew Resort, as well as taking inspiration from traditional Japanese villages. I covered it briefly in the overview, but it's a town renowned for its baked goods and abundance in flowers and plays a very important role in food production for the Underground. Annually, they host the Festival of the Harvest, which in the past used to be hosted by Empress Ceroba herself. However, she sadly hasn't attended since Kanako's passing.

Next up is the Frostpeak Settlement. Since I'm a Colorado boy, I based it a bit off of how some of the smaller towns around here look in the winter. This is more or less the actual Snowdin of SequenceShift. Plot wise it acts as a mining town/trading post (the mines connect the Dunes to Frostpeak in this AU) responsible for supplying the resources needed to maintain the Steamworks and other towns across the Underground. Don't have much set up for it yet, but this is also where Martlet's house is located in the AU.

Lastly, I don't have a picture of it, but AXS Studios is one of the first locations Clover will come across after the Steamworks. The Imperial City (what I renamed New Kingdom to) combines traditional Edo-style architecture with a modern metropolis (mixing elements from both East Asian and North American cities), and while Ketsukane Palace focuses on the former, AXS studios shows the more modern side of the Underground. Due to Axis's status as a lower-end celebrity, don't expect his studio to be fashionable or anything. To give a taste of that Southern/Western feel, it's actually a small outlet located in a strip mall. Definitely nowhere near as glamorous as Mettaton. That's all I have so far, but I love taking every opportunity I can to flesh out SequenceShift. Once again, thanks for the ask, and if you got any further questions or suggestions, by all means send em my way!

[copiawife]

birthday and candy corn for your husband!

birthday — how does ur fﾉo make ur birthday special ?

well i grew up having combined birthdays with my siblings because they're all very close (my sister's september 14th, mine's september 17th, my brother's september 20th) so i'm like. not very used to having it be about ME, you know? so i tell him pretty early on that he shouldn't feel like he has to pull out all the stops and make a big deal out of it, in fact that would just make me feel uncomfortable more than anything else.

so no big parties or anything like that, but he usually takes the day off and we'll sleep in and go shopping (i get to pick the music in the car :))) and then have lunch together, before heading back home and meeting with a couple friends and maybe playing a board game (a social deduction game probably, since those are my favorite)/watching a movie i picked while i open gifts, and after they leave he'll surprise me with another slightly bigger gift that's very thoughtful, like something i've talked to him about wanting especially, which is always so sweet because sometimes i worry when i ramble about my interests he's not really paying attention but then he'll get me like a doll i've been really wanting or a dress i've been admiring and it makes me so happy because it's like oh wow he actually listens to me :)) and then we'll go to bed! so nothing crazy, but definitely tries to make me feel special in a way i appreciate :))

candy corn — do u and ur fﾉo enjoy watching horror movies together ? who’s the one that hides behind the other when they get spooked ?

yes! mostly! i love a lot of like extreme horror and just stuff that could be pejoratively described as "torture porn" which is not necessarily his speed (i made him watch saw and he uhh Did Not Like It and i was like ok maybe i won't make you watch flower of flesh and blood then) but that's okay! there's a lot that we both like so we try to be thoughtful about picking things out the other person would enjoy :)) a lot of 70/80s horror (halloween, evil dead, hellraiser (one of his favorites), etc etc) and then also some like more experimental/cult horror (house, peeping tom, demons, etc), and early sound/silent horror films as well :)) (it made my silent horror film loving heart SO HAPPY seeing clips from häxan in rhrn i was giggling and kicking my feet so bad. i knew they used it for the backing video in twenties (i was there) but seeing it come up again had me cheering!! it's one of my all time favorite movies :))) it's one of the things we really bonded over early on in our relationship, and luckily we do align in a lot of spots with that.

[thephantomcasebook]

That Daeron/Mysterious Knight theory is SO GOOD, but they way George hates the Greens make me a little 🧐

If he actually scaped the war, what do you think he did after?? Some crazy theories says that he is the "Hightower" who married Rhaena (I know, crazy)

GRRM fell in love with Daemon Targaryen and HBO fell in love with the Velaryons. Like I said, Team Black is basically GRRM & HBO's Avengers of their favorite - and most marketable - characters to do spin offs. I mean you don't see devolopment on prequel projects for Criston as a Hedge Knight or Daeron and his adventures between 1X06-1X10.

From my experience as a fan since pre-GOT is that often times GRRM gets inspired by other people's interpretations of his material or actors performances. In the beginning GRRM was interested in characters like Criston Cole and Daeron Targaryen. But once HBO started looking for marketability that was when he started changing things in his lore to fit to HBO/WB's corporate structure. Which, is why I don't take him serious as a author a lot of times. Cause everything post 2015 he's written has been based on "What can I adapt into live-action" rather than what would make a good story.

It was easier to rewrite the Greens as the bad guys when in ASoIaF the Greens are remembered as the Heroes of the Dance. He also changed Daeron from an alpha chad who everyone in the Seven Kingdoms was begging to be their kings into a wall flowers who has moments of brilliance but is now kinda dainty and unsure.

Not because he changed his mind, but because the corporate people in HBO told him that their "heroes" in the new series had to be diverse and inclusive. And thus all of Team Green has to be bad guys in some way so that people can root for "Girl Bosses" and "People of Color" ... which as someone who is not white, I find that shit more racist than anything else.

Now, it seems that after the performances by the Green cast of Season 1, GRRM wants to go back and flesh out Team Green and tell stories with them. In particular, GRRM wants to go back and expound on Daeron's story, insisting that he'd a very important character and that there is something important to tell with him.

I'd like to think that GRRM got his balls back from HBO and told them shove it, and that he's taken back control of the franchise in some way. But then Sara Hess got re-upped for another season and she and her shit writing and character work is about 60% of all the problems that plague "HOTD". Not to mention that she is constantly going out to give interviews and saying the stupidest shit.

I shit you not, she did an interview recently where she talked about how she and Olivia Cooke talked about Alicent and Rhaenyra doing sexual things when they were kids ... like as little girls .. and SHE SAID SHE LOVED THE IDEA!

What the fuck is wrong with these people?!

Just shut the fuck up!

If I was running a project and I saw one my producers tell the world that she loved the idea of two little girls experimenting sexually ... She'd be out on her ass so fast she wouldn't be able to steal supplies from her desk.

Anyway ...

My theory is that Daeron survived the war and went to Dorne where he fell in love with the Lady Dayne of Starfall and thats where the Daynes get their silver blonde hair and violet eyes from ... and their pension for naming their girls with first letter starting with "A" in honor of Alicent.

And that when Makar Targaryen married Lady Dayne during the Blackfyre Rebellion that their kids are the first reunion of House Targaryen - the Greens and Blacks combined. Which is why all of Makar's children run the gambit of Targaryen outcomes - Mad, Drunk, Intelligent, and Brave - With Egg (Aegon V) being the most like Daeron and Alicent.

That's my theory.

[lasbrumas]

WTW GHOST GALA ; days 9-16

this week's prompt wrap-up!

day 9; candy corn ↳ Tell us how you chose the title for your WIP.

The thing to know about me is that I cycle through titles like a washing machine, so Burning of the Apiary might not be the final title. That being said, I chose it because symbolically it reflects on the themes well, I think, especially regarding burning down the old, starting with a clean slate, and the feelings of the protagonist toward the end of the novel.

day 10; witch ↳ Write or brainstorm the opening paragraph.

Notes: Dolores’ mother dies, leaving her with no ties to her home or the land around her. She dies after a particularly rough winter, one full of floods and poor crops and a sickness that swept the valley. Dolores believes the valley is diseased, so she leaves it for the safety of an isolated convent.

day 11; bats ↳ How would your WIP change if a minor character became the protagonist?

For this exercise, I decided to view the story from the point of view of Abadesa/Abbess Ana Isabel, and realized wow it would change a lot. The reason for this is that the Abbess is a minor character because she’s got her own plot going on, technically separate from the main plot, though it is related. From her perspective, she would be less focused on the cult and the well-being of the students (though she tries to remember to ask about them), and she would be more focused on the eerie premonitions that haunt her. Bad news for her, though, because if she’d paid a little more attention to her students, she might have figured out what her visions were trying to tell her to prevent.

day 12; candles ↳ After naming all of your characters: tell us the meaning behind their names.

Dolores - sorrows, pain

Cecilia - Derived from Caecilius, possibly from Latin caecus or “blind”

Camila - Unknown meaning, derived from Roman cognomen

Ixora - A large genus of tropical shrubs or small trees (family Rubiaceae) that have leathery evergreen leaves and terminal corymbs of showy salver-shaped flowers and are often cultivated as ornamentals in the warm greenhouse

Ana Isabel - Anna comes from the Hebrew Channah, which means “favor” or “grace.” Isabel is derived from the English Elizabeth, which itself is a derivative of the Greek form of the Hebrew name Elisheva/Elisheba. Means “my god is an oath.”

Adriana - Feminine form of Adrian, which is derived from Hadrianus, a Roman cognomen that meant “from Hadria.”

day 13; coffin ↳ Where's your favorite place to write?

Thanks to work and having limited access to certain places, I don’t have a favorite place to write. Basically anywhere I can get decent wifi and focus on writing is the best place for me. When I was a student, I often wrote either in my dorm room when no one was around or in the library. Now, I typically write at home, sometimes at work (when I can sneak onto Google Docs) and wherever I go. I’ve even written during a road trip. Fun fact: the year I won NaNo with Saintless, I was writing in the car on my laptop as someone else drove lol.

day 14; haunted mansion ↳ Describe a setting in your WIP.

A short description of the convent from my WIP notion: The Abbey of the Sacred Heart is a small, isolated religious school located in the high mountains.. Girls of all ages and from across the country attend the convent’s school to become proper ladies. It is a combination finishing school and temple to the Mother. Sacred Heart is known for its apiaries and sweet honey, the latter which is used as a source of revenue and sustenance for those who live there.

day 15; black cat ↳ Flesh out your antagonist: Who are they? What are they? What do they want?

Highlights: The antagonist is Sor Adriana. She is second in command to the Abbess and oversees the school. She is also one of the last nuns to have joined this convent and stayed. Her main goal is to serve the Mother, and her surrogate mother, the Abbess. With an unwavering devotion to her deity and the woman who oversees the convent, she is willing to do anything to please them.

day 16; pumpkin spice latte ↳ Write a basic plot synopsis for your WIP.

Using the one I pitched for another server.

On the same day that the Valley’s eligible debutantes arrive for their first term at convent school, a young woman arrives begging to be taken as a novitiate prospect. Isolated and far from home, the young woman has no choice but to befriend the seemingly vapid group. But as she develops feelings for the top debutante, something dark lurks in the corners of the abbey. The Valley’s daughters have brought their world of secret societies with them, and soon, the novitiate may be forced to choose between destroying them or succumbing to the terrifying, yet seductive, realm of the elite.

[coldwind-shiningstars]

hello! :D ao3 wrapped ask game: any combination of [6, 9, 16, 29] ?

6: Favorite title you used: It's a chapter title, but “The Cradle of 100 Years of Bliss” from @stripedroseandsketchpads and my TGCF Utena AU.

9: Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Gotta be BigB/Grian I think, I definitely consider myself A Scarian Fan but it's the Main Fandom Ship so BigG kind of snuck up on me? Listen, they're so sweet, and they're having a great time, even if they are both cheating on their partners. Hard to top a ship where you make eye contact in the relationship therapy waiting room (you are attending relationship therapy with your partner because they know you are cheating but not who with).

16: What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? I only used it twice this year but “unreliable narrator,” I tend to have trouble with the additional tags but basically all my narrators are unreliable!

29:Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? Can I just say all of cam account parenting? It's so fun format wise and I think I did a good job Conveying The Themes (sexism, metafiction.) otherwise, I'm offering this bit from the upcoming chapter of The Time We Get This Right (double life locked tomb AU):

“How are you so good at this?” Scar asked, eventually. “My fingers always get all tangled up.”

“I noticed,” Grian said, laughing at him. “I don't know. I just used to braid a lot of grass, or flowers for flower crowns, and things, just to have something to do, you know? And I always wanted long hair, I just don't want to grow it out. It'd reach my chin and just look awful and then I'd make Mumbo cut it.”

Scar turned as far as he could with Grian still holding his hair, and clasped his hands. He practically had stars in his eyes.

“I could grow it for you right now!”

Grian scowled and nudged him back around.

“No thank you,” he said. “You keep offering things like that, you know I'm never going to take you up on it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don't trust you, for starters! But also I've never really liked using necromancy on living people. It freaks me out. I know you do it all the time but you just don't hear about anyone else using it like that.”

Scar put a hand on his chest. “I'll have you know I've never gotten a bad review, mister!” he said, all affected offense. “No unsatisfied customers here. And, anyway, you let me use you as a flesh puppet the other day –”

Grian shrieked “STOP” and physically covered his mouth with one hand. Scar laughed at him behind the barrier.

“I'll do it if you never phrase it like that again,” he said.

“Really?” said Scar. His eyes got even bigger. He moved away from Grian's hand. “Oh, Grian! You won't regret this. No unsatisfied customers! If it doesn't work out we'll just shave your head and try again.”

“No, we won't,” Grian said. “Hold still, let's try and get this done before you say something else that makes me change my mind.”

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧 | 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

Warnings: Smut!! (18+ pretty please), language, adult themes.

Summary: Toss a coin to your witcher...

A/n: I would let this man do absolutely anything he wanted to me. :)

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 small feet patted across the chamber, your feet molding to the cobblestone underneath your skin with every gentle step. Your slip gently caressed your body, the extra fabric flowing after you like a veil.

When he finally came into view, you had to do everything to restrain your throat from releasing a small 'aww' at the sight. There, slightly stirring, was your witcher, cuddled up under blankets to keep warm from the biting weather outside.

Bottles of rum and other liquor rested on the small table beside the bed, signaling that he was enjoying his time off before having to march off in the early hours of the morning to fight whatever monstrosity there was left to fight.

But for now, he was yours until he left again, all of him, every part. It might sound selfish if you said it out loud, but you wanted him all to yourself. To keep him in the confines of your chamber. All yours.

Alas, the Witcher could never be a caged bird, no matter how hard you wished he could be, but the nights like these made the time he was away from you all the more worth it.

You wreaked of elegance. Something that your Witcher strictly was not. Your slip looked like it was spun out of moonlight, the pure white tone almost glowing. Your hair was untamed, but neat all the same. You smelled like roses and chamomile. A goddess... perhaps that was why Geralt would continue to come back to you.

Silently, you approached his bed, gently uncovering his bear-like body, hoping he wouldn't stir because of the sudden temperature change. You simply crawled onto the bed, gently straddling his nude hips, letting your evening gown slip its way down your shoulder, exposing your upper half, your breasts now fully exposed, nipples now pebbled due to the chilled air that circulated the room.

You were in a playful mood, leaning over slightly, feeling your breasts lightly graze against his collarbone, only proving how much bigger he was than you in size, your lips placing soft butterfly-like kisses across his face. You scattered your lips over his scars, his eyelids, and lastly his forehead.

When you finally pulled back, blazing golden eyes met your own.

You gasped lowly in surprise, your hopes of him not waking yet shattered.

"You missed your queue," you smirked, your smile almost like a drug to the man underneath you.

"Forgive me. Although, I would be more than delighted to start from the beginning," he growled playfully, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

You giggled like a small child, before letting him flip you over, his hulking body now hovering over yours as he leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, full of flame and desire.

Letting him slip his tongue into your mouth, your lips went pliant as you let him take what he wanted— what he needed. His hands roamed your body shamelessly, feeling every curve up like he was experiencing you for the first time.

His lips traveled to your neck and you wrapped your arms around what you could, one hand traveling up to his hair and grasping onto it as he sucked a brand new purple mark onto your flesh.

"You body," he grumbled in a thunderous and deep tone against the skin of your neck, "It never gets old."

You whined at his praise, the heat between your thighs warming up your body as you tried to rub your thighs together for friction, which didn't go unnoticed by Geralt.

"Aww, hush," he smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes, "Patience is a virtue that looks good on you."

You gave a small huff, but your attitude was promptly cut of by the sound of tearing fabric, your evening gown now nothing but sheds of cloth as the man above you tossed them to the side.

Just as you were about to protest, he pressed your lips to his eagerly, his hands exploring your breasts as you felt his skin fully pressed to yours, his height pinning you down as your eyes closed. The kiss was stealing your breath away.

You did your best to take back your stolen air when he pulled away, looking down at you with so much admiration, you thought you might burst.

“Take me, Witcher. Make me yours,” you pleaded, but unbeknownst to you, you already were his. Completely and undeniably.

But it became apparent that he needed to prove it. A love such as his needed to be described by not only words but also by touch. His one true love. A purpose. Something he longed for to couple with his chaotic, dutiful lifestyle.

“My dear. You already are,” the snow-whites of his teeth caught the firelight, his lips pulling back, a smile gracing his gruff features, “my perfect little dove.”

His hand gently grazed your cheek before you felt him line himself up with your aching, soaked core, and he huffed in amusement when he heard your breath hitch.

A beautiful flower all to himself. To please his cock, to keep him warm, to love him like no other could.

Slowly, you felt his tip pierce your veil. No matter how many times he had been inside you, it always felt like he was opening you up for the first time. You hissed, Geralt placing a comforting kiss to the tip of your nose.

Little by little, he pushed his large length into you, muttering praise and kissing you gently every time you made even the slightest noise of distress.

Finally; finally he was pushed in as far as he could go, your cunt gripping onto him like a vice as he took a moment to let you breathe and adjust, something he rarely did.

“Your so radiant. How could I have ever thought to pass up something like you?” You heard him say, which lead you to wonder if he truly meant to say it out loud.

Leaning over, his lips attached to your neck once again, licking and nibbling the dark spots littered across your skin. New, old, it didn’t matter.

“My perfect girl,” you felt him smile against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt him begin to unsheathe himself from your core, all the way to his tip, before slipping himself back in just as slowly as he took himself out.

You mewled at his actions, your nails digging into his back as he started a slow, calculated rhythm, taking you in the most delicious way possible.

All the while he muttered words of tenderness into your skin, “You always feel so perfect around me. Like you were made for me, my favorite body to lose myself in.”

This which was true. After the things he’s seen and done in his life, you were his faultless escape, a reminder of how beautiful life really could be.

Unhurriedly, (and almost unnoticeably), his pace began to pick up, his grunts and groans of pleasure mingling with your higher pitched moans and whines melodically, an ideal song of pleasure and passion.

Soon enough, he began to pound into you, and that was the point your brain went haywire, your moans increasing in volume as he took you selfishly. You scratched harshly into his back.

This only drove him to continue. The mixture of pleasure and pain was a perfect combination of everything he seemed to seek after.

Your fingers moved up his back, now into his tangled platinum mane, and he growled, his thrusts becoming harsher, driving himself into you vice like it was the last thing he would ever do.

"G-Geralt!" you moaned, your voice stuttering due to the brute force of his frantic, unrelenting, and punishing thrusts, "I- I lo-ve you!" your weak voice yipped, and everything stopped dead.

When you opened your eyes, you found his, his yellow eyes like a tiger's as he stared at you with a look you couldn't read. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. But maybe that wasn't all that was.

"My dear, you have no idea how long I've longed to hear those words fall from your lips." he sighed, leaning down and capturing your soft lips with his.

Without warning, his thrusts resumed, and your world fell back into a spiral of pleasure once again.

"Say it again," he groaned into your ear, his deep voice like thunder, sending chills down your spine.

"I love you," you said with more confidence, a look of determination and lust crossing your features, Geralt watching as it did.

With renewed vigor, his pace resumed, the tip of his shaft banging into your g-spot with every brutish hit, your arms wrapped desperately around his large frame, nails digging into his scars and breath becoming ragged.

Suddenly, you felt the coil inside you tighten to the point it was almost painful, knowing that you were about to let go. Geralt understood the signs, sometimes you were convinced that he knew more about your own body than you did.

"Cum for me, petal, I want to feel you," he grunted, wiggling his hand down where both of your sweaty torsos conjoined until his large thumb found your dainty pearl.

He rubbed it in tight, quick circles as your eyes finally rolled back, your body shaking violently as you felt your sight turn a bright white. You fell into a state of ecstasy as he continued to rock you through it, the tightening of your slick cunt driving him over the edge, his balls constricting as he came deep inside of you.

You mewled at the warmth that bloomed in your core, Geralt's lips going into the crease of your neck, leaving soft kisses everywhere he could reach as you slowly found yourself coming back down to Earth.

Soon, all that could be heard were the soft breaths of the two lovers that laid exhausted on the bed. You loved the feeling of him in your arms as he did everything not to crush you, the white of his hair mingling with the tangles of yours.

Finally, he lifted himself out of you and you let out a whimper as he tried to ease the discomfort with a kiss to the nose. He flopped to the side of you, immediately pulling you in.

He held you tightly as you rested your head on his chest, his fingers gently trailing up and down your exposed arm. And you both sat in silence, reveling in the love you shared for one another.

"I missed you," you finally muttered, feeling your lover let out a low 'hmm' above you.

"As have I."

You opened your mouth to say something, but you stopped yourself, not knowing how he would react; if he would get offended.

"No, speak your mind, girl."

His commanding tone sent you straight to submission as you felt his fingers tilt your chin up to look at him.

"I'm just... afraid you won't be here when I wake up in the morning. The bed gets so cold, and I-"

You were cut off with a quick kiss to your lips, "Everything I do, I do for you. I used to only do what I did for coin, nothing more. But for you, I use the coin to take care of both you and I, the future that you and I both want."

"Truly?" you questioned.

"Truly," the witcher replied, sincerity lacing his voice, "After all, you said you loved me. Couldn't give that up, could I?" he smirked.

You tuned red, "No, it would be a shame if you did."

Geralt let out a chuckle at this, "You're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina, sorry to bother you and I hope you are having a great evening. I tried looking through your post but hope I didn’t overlook anything. I’m trying to find fics that have to do with like a makeover or transformation… or like maybe one of them was awkward in school and then later on wasn’t lol. Glow up fics, if that makes sense. I know that’s kind of odd so no worries at all if you don’t have anything or don’t feel like searching! Just thought I would try my luck.

I really love your fic recs and just finished the top gun fic which I had seen you mentioned several times. Absolutely loved it. Thanks so much for all you do. Next on my list is your story, literally making love. I am so excited!! I also really love when I am reading a fic that I am super enjoying and all of a sudden see your beautiful artwork featured—makes me feel like it has the Gina stamp of approval lol. Anyway. You are great, thanks so much x

Oh you're so sweet! Thank you so much for that. And yay! I'm so happy you loved Take My Breath Away. It's such a great fic. Fingers crossed you like my fic, as well.

As for your request... I don't have any makeover fics, but yeah. I do have a few Glow Up fics to suggest! I'm going to keep searching because I must have more, but here are some to start with!

It’s Been So Long by @elsi-bee (T, 31K) This fic was really charming. I always love Louis and Gemma as friends, and the “in love with my best friend’s brother” trope rarely lets me down. This one was sweet and endearing while also being very moving. I loved the tender way they treated each other, even when they were pining, and the flashbacks were the perfect way to fill in the blanks.

harder to hide than I thought by dangerbears (NR, 6K) Gemma and Louis are besties. This one is sweet and charming. Gemma and Louis’ relationship is super cute and I love the way they tease each other. Louis notices how much Harry has grown up…

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews / @gloriaandrews (E, 135K) Everything about this fic is glorious. I’m always struck by how well the characters are fleshed out, how their behavior lines up with their backstory, how ridiculously hot the chemistry is, and how agonizing the angst is. So yes, no shocker, I cried buckets. Thank god for a happy ending. Harry is anxious/insecure in flashbacks only, but it still informs who he is in the present.

Like an Endless Summer by objectlesson (E, 87K) There are so many thing I loved about this fic from the summer camp setting, to the trope of Harry returning to camp older and hotter, to the way the other boys filter in and out of the story, to the way the author writes the emotions and overwhelm, to the hot af smut. It’s just a great read. The fic has been deleted, so the link is to a download.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower You Feast) by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 17K) This author’s writing is poetic without being too precious, descriptive in a way that paints a gorgeous portrait without piling on unimportant detail, and their smut is sexy af. I love all of their fics, but this is a personal favorite because it combines so many things I love (supernatural elements, Versailles, Larry, and smut…what more could you want? LOL).

Some Clear Jellyfish Don’t Sting by gloria_andrews / @gloriaandrews​ (E, 32K) This one is a such a beautiful portrayal of summer love with some pining thrown in to make the resolution that much sweeter. And yes, it made me teary.

once bitten and twice shy by @pinkcords (M, 19K) First of all, for a first fic in this fandom, I thought this author really did a nice job with their characterizations. I especially liked the way they captured Harry’s anger and humiliation and stubbornness. There’s a beefy epilogue as well which I haven’t had a chance to read!

[changeling-crafts]

Tarot World building

Tarot was originally a game back in the 14th century when it showed up in Europe. In the 1750s people began using it for divination, which is what it's better known for today. In Fortunes Path, both uses are combined and the cards are used to answer many questions such as:

What quests are there to do? 

What is the reward? 

What are the local factions? 

Who leads them? 

What settlements are there and who lives there? 

Each spread has a tarot card associated with it; if you get stuck, you can draw a random card and do the corresponding spread to develop new ideas and get your game going again. With every new post I will include at least one new tarot spread that will flesh out your world in a new way. Each spread will have a suggestion of what tarot card might prompt that spread, however I encourage the player to customize this aspect to their game, changing which cards prompt which spreads and coming up with new spreads of your own to better suit your world. 

That all being said, tarot decks can certainly fetch a high price when bought new. Fret not, humble adventurer, as a great many alternatives exist! For the example game, I have chosen to make my own deck using index cards. Right now, all my cards have is the name of each card written at the bottom; as I read with them, I will add some artistic element to the cards that show up in each reading, letting my deck become more beautiful and fleshed out as my world does. I chose to write the card names in pencil so I might go back and rename them later if I want to. 

If that all seems like a bit too much right out the gate, consider the humble playing card deck, which come in all manner of art styles and generally cost less than tarot decks. Playing cards might also fit better with your game depending on the genre and tone. 

(this card chart is heavily inspired by this post from springhole.net. it's a great read, especially if you're new to reading tarot or oracle cards)

Even beyond the traditional cards, you could try a collection of business cards, postcards, your favorite battle deck, or a stack of aesthetic photos; as long as you can interpret meaning in the cards, they will work perfectly. The bonus of using a predesigned deck over one like mine is that the cards are already chock full of art to inspire your reading.

Once you have a deck picked out, it's time to actually start reading and fill out your world. If you're having trouble interpreting a spread you can: ask clarifying questions using more cards, a coin flip, or a pendulum to answer or even just re shuffle and start over.

To start off, here are all the spreads for the minor arcana 

A place can be…

Where somebody is from

Where something you need could be

The next place you encounter along the road

Where an important historical event took place

A person can be…

Somebody you met

Someone you need to find

A person who went missing recently

The person hiring you

An item can be…

A reward for a job well done

A tool you can borrow

A weapon used against you

Something you can buy

Flora could be…

An ingredient you need to find

A common plant everybody cultivates

Your best friend’s favorite flower

The worst tea you can find this side of the river

Creatures could be…

Companion animals 

Beasts of burden

Livestock for eating

Wild creatures to hunt

Beasts might…

Be the reason the livestock went missing 

Eat travelers right off the road

Be a wise and reclusive source of knowledge

Exist only in stories

While  reading, look for opportunities to connect the spread you're currently reading to spreads you've done in the past, perhaps that creature always lines it's den with a particular plant, and that creature appears on the the kings crest, maybe that fancy item was forged by the same king, and so on and so forth.

Next post will be about your player character!

[kryptsune]

World Building Wednesday!~Yokaifell

🌼One of my personal favorites was chosen this week and I am so excited! It was a tie between Wiccafell and this and I just decided to do a little coin toss. I am happy to also announce that the ideas in Yokaifell will also be appearing in a more original form in the Souly Damned Universe. I will talk more about that on SD Saturday!

Yokaifell AU

Yokai Masterlist:

[Red] Ryutsuki (Ryou) 龍月- Kitsune (Kitsune Ebi- Shou & Rin)

[Boss] Kuro  黒- Gashadokuro

Doomfanger- Maneki neko (a variation of the bakeneko this kind brings good luck and fortune which I thought would be cute for the brothers. Hilariously Doomy was with Boss before he died coughs. Doomy is kind of like that cricket in Mulan supposed to be lucky but... questionable.)

Flowey: I am unsure if I am planning on putting Flowey in this or just have him as Asriel. Either way, he would most likely resemble the higanbana. These are also Red’s flower of choice, which is…ironic if you know the language of flowers.

The Dreemurrs: (this is a hard one. There are no Yokai as far as I can recall that are goat like, however there are some good candidates that could work. I have a few in mind right now and that is the kotobuki, hakutaku, shisa, Kirin or even the baku.

Undyne: Uni nyobo

Alphys: Honengyo (This is kind of the “Godzilla” idea she would just be mini XD)

Muffet: Jorogumo

Grillby: Onibi (this is a strange one because he would have to be a combination of onibi for this to work but don’t worry I am on it!)

Gerson: Kappa/ Genbu (due to his wisdom)

*{The lesser monsters would be a variation of yokai not exactly pertaining to their UT counterparts unless I can make that connection. The Underground/ Underworld, in this case, it basically the spirit realm so it’s not really necessary. They are not exactly trapped like in the original.}*

Main Plot Synop:   Frisk is a foreigner trying to start a new life across the world in Japan. I am still trying to pick a possible location in Japan but that is a minor detail. I will say that I would like it to be a little more secluded. It is also modern day (I settled on Izumo). The people she moves to live among tell Frisk of their traditions and stories but her being from the West she has a hard time understanding. Frisk is told not to stay out too late and wander the nearby forest but hey who listens to reason? She ends up getting lost, alone, and afraid. That is until a series of flame like lights presumably show her the way back to the town. This happens a few times but she becomes more and more curious by them until they lead her deeper into the forest. She comes upon the entrance of an abandoned shrine stopping before a Torii Gate as the lights disappear. These are kitsunebi by the way. Only when she is hesitant to pass through it do they appear on the opposite side.

She ends up being startled by a white haired human that seems to have just appeared out of thin air. He tries to speak to her but she barely understands the language if only a few words. In frustration the stranger steals a kiss from the shell shocked human girl only for her to suddenly be able to understand what he is saying. A still highly confused Frisk ends up learning that he is in fact a demon or rather her interpretation since she is from the West.

It turns out that in order to give her the ability for her to understand him a dose of his magic was required changing the physical makeup of her soul causing it to become desirable to other hungry yokai that roam both the spirit realm as well as the night. Not believing his claim and rather angry at his sudden advance she storms off heading back toward the village. She begins to see more than she should as spirits appear out of the woodwork.

An oni appears in front of her ready to devour the poor unsuspecting human in which she ends up running back to the gate in order to avoid the giant monster. At first Ryou is not interested in saving the human girl but it is his fault that she has ended up in this situation. He saves her but not before she ends up accidentally running through the Torii Gate attempting to dodge an attack. The beast follows and Frisk ends up trapped in the spirit realm when the monster destroys the gateway. Kuro, Ryou’s older brother makes quick work of the beast.   

The rest of the story revolves around Frisk trying to return home which requires a journey since a human does not belong in their realm and the gate to “leave” is on the opposite side of the realm. It is incredibly dangerous for someone like her to be there so she ends up in disguise with the help of Grillby and Ryou. Ryou is a kitsune so he is able to create the perfect disguise adding more magic to her soul to fool it into becoming a yokai temporarily. He is surprised to find she is the same kind as him, a kitsune. 

Their journey takes them all the way across the spirit realm to find another gate and on the way they run into a colorful cast of characters. Some are helpful spirits. Others are man eating demons that are looking for a delicious human soul to devour. At first Frisk is content staying with the brothers but a human does not belong in their realm and that causes complications. 

Yokai Lore/ Spirit Realm world: 

The spirit realm is a dangerous place that few humans have ever set their eyes on. It the world between. A space that is home to various yokai. Humans cannot naturally see spirits as the modern setting has diminished the humans that still believe in them. They are not trapped but rather there is a hierarchy that is established. The more powerful the yokai the more they are able to interact with the human realm. 

Hierarchy brief explanation (restrictions and interactions): 

Servants of the gods- Yokai that can interact with the human world during the day or whenever they see fit. They are messengers for their respective deities. They are not known to be troublesome or mischievous. 

Kitsune- A more rare type of yokai that can shift its appearance at will but mostly represented by that of a multi tailed fox. Some of them are servants of the gods but those who have no alignment can walk among the living during the day for a duration of time. When the night comes they can walk freely and interact with humans as they see fit. They are mostly known for luring humans away with kitsune ebi or fox fire.

“Boss” Yokai- Yokai gain their status by either specific species or their prestige. That can either be obtained by LV gain or doing favors for the gods. Some are hostile and some are passive it depends on the encounter. They can walk freely during the night without hindrance but unlike the two prior they cannot take form during the day. 

“Lesser?” Yokai- Yokai that are relatively weak and unable to hold a physical form in the human realm. They can move objects and possibly possess humans but they have no ability to interact on a substantial level. They can be seen by some humans as little dancing and vanishing lights. They can rarely pass the barrier as is.  

Lost souls- Lost spirits that wander between realms. They cannot interact with humans but can be seen from time to time. They are what the west consider the typical ghost.

Human Struggles Info {Plot}:

A human does not belong in their realm which also means that the world is also an enemy. The power of the soul plays a huge factor in this as weak souls are more susceptible to the world influence. There are three different outcomes that are possible for a human if they end up trapped in the spirit realm.

Dinner is served-  A large number of yokai are known for their man eating tendencies finding human souls and flesh a kind of delicacy. Some are beasts that kill for pleasure but humans worst outcome is being eaten or killed.

You’re one of us now- A strong human soul slowly can be changed. The soul decides what kind of yokai that humans can become or will become. It is entirely possible that most of the yokai were once human but it is unknown. They are usually lesser yokai or spirits.   

Lost soul- What the title implies. A soul unable to remember who they were. They wander for the rest of eternity searching for answers they will never receive. They are miserable creatures that pull others into their fate. Their depression is infectious and anyone already questioning themselves could easily find themselves among their ranks. They are not malicious only confused and desperate.  

Symptoms of becoming a Lost Soul: 

Confusion

Memory loss

Random emotional outburst/response

Physical weakness/fatigue

Relationship {Plot}:

Ryou and Frisk become close for a reason that they are both unsure about. They could be soul mates or his magic that is embedded in her soul begins to spread making her have feelings for him. Either way her love for him never wavers. A human can never fall in love with a yokai. It is not only forbidden but also very dangerous. *whoops* Their soul bond only grows stronger as their outward feelings increase. They spend the night together not understanding the consequences of that kind of action.

Unfortunately, Frisk begins to show symptoms that her soul is not powerful enough for this world and she begins to lose herself and forget. In desperation Ryou and Kuro make the decision to travel all the way to the end of realm to get her back to the human realm. When they get there she has a choice. She can stay and become a lost soul for the rest of eternity or leave and forget everything about them. Since Ryou and Frisk are soul bound she would feel a loneliness for the rest of her life unable to understand why. It is like losing a part of yourself. It hurts but she chooses the second option returning to the human world a little bit changed from before.

*Have any questions past this point be sure to drop them in my ask box! If you want to see more drop a comment and/or a reblog! 

(spoilers ahhhhead)

Epilogue {Plot}:

Though Frisk has forgotten about her soul mate and her time spent in the spirit realm she still has these feelings. She finds herself spending more and more time peacefully sitting by the gate or in the forests surrounding her home. It is calming and peaceful for her. What is even more curious is her new condition. She finds out by some miraculous way (not really she just doesn’t remember) that she is pregnant. When she has her children she finds them as normal children for the longest time until they turn 10. They start seeing things that they shouldn’t including dancing among little fire like lights that she swears she has seen before. She could swear she sometimes sees little fox creatures dancing in the flames. A trick of the light...right? 

Frisk doesn’t know but Ryou’s ability to walk in the human realm has him visiting his children and her even though she is unable to see him any longer. Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like someone is there. A kind of warmth that she leaves her feeling cold when it’s gone. Her two children begin to show physical signs of being yokai including little fox ears and tails which she does not seem to question. It feels right to her for some inexplicable reason. Her children eventually see their father through the gate one day and Frisk is hesitant to step through it (for obvious reasons). She follows her children only to leave the human world behind once more meeting a stranger that to her is not so strange. Her memory slowly returns his Ryou’s help and they live happily together with their kids. It turns out that giving birth to two yokai children strengthened her soul from before giving her the ability to stay and become a yokai herself. As before she becomes a kitsune.

[circa-specturgia]

Hello, hello~! Happy wbw to you. What is some of your favorite world building details from each of your projects? What makes them stand out in that world?

Hmm… This is one I had to think about but I’ll try and keep it brief and not get too carried away… I tend to do that a LOT and end up with posts I work on for like, a week, which is kinda tough when I got a bunch of asks I still want to answer cause they’re all so fun! ✨

So, let’s get to it! Thanks for this ask @ren-c-leyn! ✨✨✨

Circa Specturgia

I’ll list three, if that’s ok, since Circa is my most fleshed-out WIP! Storms/clouds, Lavenda, and Vælan ocean-faring vessels!

The world of Istra is one with a far higher water/land percentage than earth, with far deeper oceans too, a dozen kilometers or more. Thus, the cloud cover in the atmosphere is also far different than that of earth! Instead of wide spreading wispy clouds, clouds more often form as mountainous masses in the sky, like shifting islands… Some of these form charges, and evolve into Storms; wild and destructive hurricanes, forces of nature to the most literal degree! I like how I’ve managed to give some thought to it in terms of setting the tone of the setting, as well as adding cool history, like a city having an enchantment that keeps those away, and incorporating it into other areas, ie Stormwind! ✨

Lavenda is a plant that grows in abundance especially in Ahætiems inlands, the fields around the capital city’s lake nearly entirely overgrown by it! It’s purple flowers (like those shown above!) have a unique scent, along with being found to be both a substance which helps specters in their casting and focus! More recently, at the dawn of the technological revolution, researchers figured out how to process lavenda in order to make it into an extract combined with several other catalysts into a potent fuel! I don’t know why I chose lavender exactly as the flower for the setting, but it just fit. Maybe it was my mother paintings field of lavender that caught my eye, or the lavender lemonade I drank while on vacation in the mountains with friends, but either way, it was something I felt worked well and added a nice touch!

I’ve outlined a bit about the ships in this post, but I thought I’d mention it anyways! I’ve LOVED all sorts of magical ships in fiction, always, and Circa Specturgia continues to be a love letter to all the fiction I loved cause I just had to include some form of ship that’s not just normal. See the post for more info on em, but I guess what makes the Vælan ships stand out are their engineering, but also just their sheer SIZE, massive by comparison to any other vessels on the seas, capable of actually handling the open ocean and not just sailing alongside the shoreline.

Prometheus

The Visage Hall, at the Watchtower. A massive room used primarily for training and planning by the crew, in the heart of the complex known as the Watchtower, the Vanatean research facility and archive they discovered and reactivates. The room is massive, the size of a stadium, rectangular. It’s design is modular and able to be manipulated, in two key ways. The first is big alterations, changing the layout, such as adding a second level to the room on the perimeter, a walkway a few stories up, or forming a labyrinth! The second way is one using the nanotech and projection tech mastered by the Vanateans, which can be used to form hyperrealistic recreations of places, notably being able to recreate spaces from the memories of someone who is properly hooked up the the controls. A few characters use them to take some time off in places they find familiar from back on earth. Scents and sounds can also be manufactured, allowing for a faithful recreation of say, hiking through the redwood forests! While it’s a place often used for training, some of the characters use it as a place to take a break too, a brief moment of respite where they can forget the pressure and stress and feel like they’re back home on earth…

Untitled WIP

The Cars! Both cars in my little snippet I wrote one a whim as the idea for the WIP had been plaguing me use spherical wheels, as shown in (and inspired by) this video! Faulkner has a chassis of a 69’ Dodge Challenger and Vesper has one off of a ‘69 Corvette Stingray! I really like the design idea I have in my mind, maybe I’ll draw them sometime? There’s something about the idea of these heavily modded unique cars driving over the post-apocalyptic healing world that hits a Ghibli adventure note in me.

Hope this answered your question! It was fun to think about! ✨

[talkfastromance4]

Shock & Delight--luke hemmings

a/n: hello! I’ve been obsessed with Bridgerton and I just finished the show last night and this popped into my head!

word count: 2.2k (little short but it’s steamy)

warnings: smut, slight praise kink, unprotected sex and a twist😏

Masterlist

Enjoy! feedback is always welcomed :)

• • • •

You’re humming to your favorite song that played at the party downstairs as you stroll through the corridor, your long dress making whispers against the carpet. It was a wonderful party with lots of drinking, dancing, and wandering eyes to a certain Prince with golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky.

You reach your room and open the door to be welcomed by an array of flickering candles placed about the space. They were on your dresser, on your nightstands, on your vanity; anywhere there was a flat surface was a candle and it cast the room in a fantastical glow.

Standing next to the bed was the Prince himself, the top half of his buttons popped open to reveal the planes of his chest. In his hand was a single white rose, perfectly bloomed and you blushed at the secret romance of it all.

“Hello, my lady,” Luke greets, his voice soft and gentle. He takes careful steps towards you at the doorway which you quickly shut and lock. You breathe in deeply through your nose, your heart beating loud like thunder in your ears.

“My Lord,” you reply then gasp as you turn around to see how close he’s standing. So close in fact that you could count his eyelashes and smell the sweet subtle aroma the rose is giving off. “You know this isn’t allowed. You should be down at the party.”

“As should you,” he smirks then points the rose closer to your face. “I found this outside your door with a note from some…military man.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your mind envisioning stacks of letters with a love sworn for you in each one and sealed with a kiss. You can picture the words of love scrawled perfectly on parchment with sonnets filling in the empty spaces.

“Is that so?” you quirk an eyebrow and become very interested in plucking the fingers of your long white gloves off your hand. “And what did the note say?”

“Something about how you outshone every woman downstairs and the stars up in the heavens combined,” his eyes are trained on you, but his slender fingers caress the petals of the flower.

“What a romantic,” you smile slipping the glove slowly from your arm. Luke’s eyes flicker to the movement, his throat working at the smoothness of your skin. “You know it’s against the law to read someone else’s letter and to break into their room, my Lord.” You start pulling the other glove off when Luke takes over.

His fingers are cool on your skin as he drags the soft fabric down your arm that is now lifted onto his shoulder. When the glove is removed, Luke skims his lips over your wrist.

“Even if the letter was written by yours truly?” he murmurs, goosebumps rising on your skin as he presses his lips to your wrist.

“I…I hadn’t read it yet, so, yes…it’s against the law,” you sigh at his gentle caress of a kiss. Then, remembering yourself, you remove your arm and yourself from his body. The short distance from him to your vanity helped clear your head slightly from his advancements. “This is also a fire hazard.”

“I would never let anything harm you,” Luke hums and the song you love starts to play again.

The violins tickle your ears as you feel Luke’s body press against yours, a warmth spreads all over your body from his proximity. You both inhale deeply when he ducks his head to your exposed back above the dress, his breath sends shivers down your spine.

“A rose would never smell as sweet as you do,” he exhales letting the tip of his nose glide across your skin. “You’re honeysuckle.”

You try to control your breathing when he starts to unbutton the back of your dress. All of your senses have escalated. You’re aware of every centimeter of yours he touches; you can feel the warmth from every candle. When the buttons are all undone, you shift your shoulders, so the dress falls with a soft whoosh at your feet and you’re left in a very thin silk chemise that stops at your thigh.

Luke exhales on your neck causing you to shiver again and you feel his smile on the curve that connects your neck and shoulder.

“Do you even realize how beautiful you are?” he takes your wrist to spin you around and pushes you against the vanity. His eyes rake over your body and the way your nipples poke through the see-through chemise. “Every man was jealous when we danced, you know.”

“I highly doubt that,” your voice trembles as you watch him slip his finger beneath the thin silk strap.

He makes it fall low on your shoulder then does the same to the other strap so the slip is only being supported by your breasts.

“Do you?” he quirks an eyebrow before finally sucking a kiss to your neck. Your head tilts back on its own accord as his lips kiss lower and lower, his fingers pull down the fabric exposing your breast to the air and his lips. “Do you doubt me?”

“I—”

You gasp in a breath as his mouth latches to your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple. He takes it delicately between his teeth, pulling on it and sucking at the same time. Your head is spinning and the space between your thighs starts to burn.

Luke sucks and flicks your breast the best of his ability before moving to the other one. He palms at your breast, humming on the soft flesh. It’s as if he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. With a pop, he removes his mouth, pointer finger and thumbs tweaking your nipples as he stands straight to stare at you.

“You didn’t answer me. Do you doubt me?”

“No,” you barely whisper.

After a moment’s stare, Luke’s lips are on yours and his hands bunch up the chemise as he pulls you to him. You’re standing on his toes, his fingers kneading your bum while his tongue rolls over yours in such a pleasurable way. Needing more, wanting more of him you can’t help but moan and roll your hips against his.

Luke pulls you from the vanity and you dance your way to your bed where Luke falls. Your fingers pull at his hair as he unbuttons his shirt, lips still moving together in such a manner it makes the heat between your legs even stronger.

You pull your arms out of the small straps, Luke’s hands do the rest to pull the chemise off you and you’re quick to climb onto his lap. Your chest presses against his, your core rubbing over his hardened trousers.

“Lift,” he murmurs around your lips. You rise up onto your knees as he yanks his pants down as far as he can. Your hands meet as you both grasp at his dick, your eyes lock and the kissing pauses.

As if of one mind, you lower yourself, both of your hands guiding his dick between your folds. You hum and bite your lip at the feel of him teasing inside your hole. You work together, breaths mingling, inserting himself inside you. With each inch you let out a soft moan as he fills you and you flutter around him.

“Almost, almost…there you are,” he exhales as he’s finally sheathed all the way. You tug on his lower lip with your teeth then roll your head from side to side enjoying the stretch.

You start to rock on top of him and bring your hand from between the two of you behind his neck so you have more leverage to use your waist and legs to ride him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

You open your eyes and seeing him already staring at you jumpstarts your motions. You’re rocking and rolling on him at a faster pace, your clit being clipped by his shaft as you rise and fall on top of him. You gain momentum, mouth opening as the familiar pull in your lower tummy flutters and your toes start to curl. Luke’s breathing becomes heavy with yours as he gives you full control, his arms snaking around your waist.

“I can feel you…you’re almost there,” he murmurs then kisses you just as you moan. Your eyes fall closed and then the kissing stops. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

You move even faster, his hands aiding your movements as he presses on your lower back. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, the pull in your tummy becomes stronger as you keep hitting that perfect spot. You’re almost there, a few more rocks, you’re slick with arousal and he’s slipping in and out of you so easily.

“Here it is.”

“Oh! YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You slam onto him one last time and circle your hips to keep your orgasm going, your arms are stick straight behind his neck as your pleasure goes everywhere.

Luke gives you soft pecks on the corner of your open mouth as you come down.

“My turn,” he mutters then lifts you off him. You whimper at the loss of being filled by him and you fall next to him on the bed.

You move sluggishly on your back as he pulls of his pants then situates himself between your legs. He slides inside you effortlessly, your neck arching in ecstasy. Luke’s hips snap against yours; he tucks one leg onto his waist, his fingers dancing along your thigh.

He’s grunting and you’re moaning as he quickens his speed, your bodies move sloppily together eager to chase a high. You drag his face down to yours so you can kiss him, you pry his mouth open with your tongue then suck on his tongue with your lips. Luke groans so loudly you feel it in his tummy that’s pressed against yours and you swear you see stars.

Your movements become more ragged, the rhythm is staggered as he feels his release coming and then you’re moaning when yours arrives. Your head tilts back and you’re smiling at the light feeling you have in your body as Luke continues to drivee himself in and out of you until he’s filling you up. He practically growls against your neck, his fingers squeezing your thigh, your chemise is bunched at your waist.

Your ears are ringing slightly, and you laugh at the leftover ecstasy, your body spasming slightly as he pulsates the last of his own orgasm inside of you. What a feeling.

When you’ve come down, Luke kisses your breasts then gives you a long tender kiss. You hold his cheek in your hand wanting to keep him there longer and chase after his lips when he starts to break away.

“Not yet,” you titter tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. He chuckles and continues his pull away from you.

“I’m getting a towel.”

Your legs fall slack against the bed, your core still throbbing in after shock of the treatment it just received and you’re giggling at the memory of it all. You’re giddy and electric, staring up at the ceiling then at the candles surrounding you. You’re still laughing when Luke returns.

“What’s so funny?”

“This was perfect,” you turn your face back to him and smile. His curls are mussed, there’s a slight sheen to his chest and his eyes dance with the candles.

“I’m glad,” he smiles and presses the towel between your legs to clean you up. You jolt at the touch and he murmurs a ‘sorry.’ He folds the towel underneath you to catch what he’s missed, and he lays next to you on the bed. “I didn’t realize this was still on.”

He touches the bunched-up chemise that is more in the shape of a belt on your waist. Splotches are already forming on your breasts from his mouth.

“You were otherwise occupied,” you giggle curling your body into his. You kiss his chest repeatedly and his arm wraps around you.

“You’re very giggly,” Luke chuckles in your hair. “Are you sure it was okay? Is this a nervous tick of yours?”

“No, no, you played out my Bridgerton fantasy amazingly,” you hum then pull back to look at him. His fingers tickle up your back, over your shoulder then onto your neck. His thumb rubs your jaw, a soft smile still displayed on his lips.

“I’m glad. I liked having you call me Lord.”

“Yeah? I liked how you acted jealous about a military man,” you smirk kissing his chin. “Thank you for not thinking I was crazy.”

“I’m up for roleplay, lovie, you know that. Remember that time we pretended to pick each other up at the club?”

“That was fun,” you grin deviously. “What would you like to roleplay next?”

“We can keep doing this one,” he ducks his head to give you a mind-numbing kiss.

“What’s the story?” you sigh as his lips move lower and he sucks on the lobe of your ear.

“It starts off in the library…with my face between your thighs…”

You let out another giggle picturing the scene from the show and enjoy Luke’s lips as he kisses you all over. Your body is buzzing and warm and full of love.

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[octania]

Benimaru Shinmon x Reader / Obi Akitaru x Reader ( S/O’s birthday)

Words count: 2.4 k

Warnings: NONE , Just that you may fall hard for this two guys 😂 

Short descriptions: What would Obi and Benimaru do for your birthday to surprise you like no other.

________________________________________________________

Obi Akitaru

Obi is a hyped mess when it comes to your birthday. To be perfectly precise, he starts his adrenaline planning a whole week before. He gathers all the information, that he had carefully stored in his mind due time, about what you enjoy the most, what are your hobbies and preferences. He writes the most important things down in the beginning of, what he calls, your birthday week. The list goes from the little things like your favorite color, favorite food, flowers, books, places, all the way to your dreams and plans for the future. He takes every single thing on that paper seriously and marks them as highly important and also as a guide to your perfect surprise.

Everyone knows that the birthday week planning is starting, they learned it the hard way last year. Don’t be fooled, he did not bother no one by asking for help, actually he tried to do everything by himself, but you can imagine how dealing with a mile long list of your wishes can be more then overwhelming. Hinawa actually found the poor guy sleeping in the garden when he was putting up the lights to decorate it for your romantic dinner that would take place after the party that he also organized single-handedly. His head resting on the white fence, body all covered in wires that had small light bulbs on it, hair messy with traces of flower-shaped- confetti he sprinkled on the grass from the main entrance of the garden, all the way to a nicely decorated table for two where you would have your romantic meal. When Hinawa got closer, he noticed that on the wires of the lights there was something else, some pieces of paper hanging from it. He leaned, peaking, trying to read what was on it. Turned out your man Obi wrote down all the things you made him feel for you, all the things he adored about you and all the things he thinks you made better for him. After that, all the members of the squad insisted they help him next time, and with a charming smile he always has, he agreed and thanked them.

Obi is defiantly a “surprise party” kind of guy. He adores the stunned expression on your face, almost melting like ice in the sun when he sees your cheeks firing up and corners of your lips curled in a shy smile when you walk in the room  themed with your favorite things, full of your friends holding gifts and welcoming you with a cheerful singing of the traditional Happy birthday song. Looking around you and seeing how detailed and crafty the room is decorated with the things you adore, a combination that you could not find even on web sites, makes you glare with pride on your boyfriend, who wants nothing more than your happiness and satisfaction with things he had done for you.

 He would be beside you every moment of the party, making sure you are having the most unforgettable time of your life, being a queen of this event, and your king has you wrapped around his muscular arm at all times. Even when you tell him quietly that he did not have to go through all this trouble for you, he would spin you by the hand, landing you between his arms and on his firm chest, lifting you up by gripping your legs, making you to wrap them around his waist, then he kisses your collarbone, closing his eyes and resting his head under your chin, whispering to you – “How can you say that? I love you (Y/N), and of course I will celebrate the day you were born, because in that moment the other half of me came to this world. I would celebrate every day as this one, because I managed to find you, my soul mate.” 

You would stand frozen, staring at a mountain of boxes of all sizes, wrapped in colorful paper with bows on the top. How many gifts do you think is possible to buy in one week? More than you could count….. Obi takes nothing by chance, and after roaming in every store that he thought contained something you would find amusing, nice, cute, he will get it. He got even the things that reminded him of you, and the things that were reminding him on your intern jokes or situations you two were in together and they were dear to him. The only thing he refused to buy is a big teddy bear. Once you have told him that hugging him  reminded you of hugging those enormous plushy bears and when he leaves you will put his shirt on one of them so you can hug it while he is gone so you don’t miss him, he vowed that the day will never come. But not because he was jealous on the toy, it is because he never wanted to allow you to be lonely and missing him. Buying that bear would mean he admits the day when you will be alone with that stuffed material would come, and there is no way he will let that happen. You sleep right on top of him, while he embraces your whole body with his strong arms, pulling you close so he can hear your every heart beat, making sure you feel his too, letting you know you will never again be alone, you two are one soul in two bodies.

You should bear in mind that the party is not over when the guests leave. Obi would kiss your hand, closing the door after the last person, leaning over you and locking you between his wall of flesh and the door. “I have one more surprise for you, babe.”- his whispers would sink deep into your core, making you shiver when he rest his hands on your waist, squeezing it lightly, massaging it in slow circular motions, while he nibbles on your earlobe. Suddenly, he would pick you up by surprise, carrying you while whispering sweet nothings along your neck, opening the door of his room. Well..not only his anymore. The single person bed is now replaced with a king sized one, and a new and wider wardrobe is placed next to the older and smaller one. You heart race as you see the scented candles illuminating the room with their dim glow. Blue and white orchids are spread out along the bed, and some around it. You turn, looking at him. His face red, smiling but he can’t hide how nervous he really is. He stutters the first few words, but then clears his throat and finishes his question with a tone filled with dedication. “ Move in with me (Y/N). I can’t stand going away from you in the morning any more..I can’t stand calling this house a home any longer, because it is a lie. Until we are living under the same roof,  nothing will feel like home to me. So, please (Y/N), will you stay with me?”

Benimaru Shinmon

You thought Beni looked gloomy before when he took his usual stroll along the streets of Asakusa, but you have seen nothing until he realized a big day is coming up, and he had absolutely no idea how to make it special. Well, at least nothing seemed good enough to him. He had no experience in this area. Sure, he cared for Asakusa, he admired and respected Konro, he liked the twins, but nothing got so deep in that mans chest as you did. So, the same usual treatment when it came to birthdays, to give them something nice and congratulate them, have a nice dinner and go to bed after, was out of the question. 

You were his first girlfriend. He had chances, that is more than obvious, but no one caught his eyes except you, and for the first time, he felt a deep and sincere obligation, or better yet, desire, to show you how much you fascinate him and how differently he sees you from all the rest. In the end, he wanted to express his love for you. Given the fact he was a man of few words, literal meaning of showing is what was left. Telling you how much he cared did not seem special enough, he believed in actions. You can’t just tell a woman that you love her, stupid, you got to prove it.

  Konro, like he had some sort of tracker device installed in him to detect Benimaru’s worries, found out what has been troubling the young captain fast enough. He found it almost adorable, but there is no way he would say that in front of Waka. So, he carefully tried to give him a few advices as always, not being pushy, just helpful. But this time, something unusual happened. Normally, Beni would either listen and say nothing after Konro’s advice, or he would straight up get up and leave, showing how uninterested he is in the matter. But not this time, no. This time, he asked questions. Pointing out his concerns and specifically what he wants to achieve. Konro was puzzled, shocked to say at least. Realizing how deep Benimaru’s emotions are for you, he could not help but smile, messing the young man’s hair like he was a little boy, giving the advice that Benimaru found so useless and cringey at first, his eyebrows narrowed and his face became one big expression of dissatisfaction. “Present her the ways of your heart.” – Seriously Konro? That is all you can give me?

At first, Benimaru had no idea what that meant, but soon enough he realized the meaning when his endless walks took him to the right place. By accident, he stumbled upon a meadow covered with tall grass dancing in a light breeze. He gazed upon the peaceful place, admiring the view he didn’t even notice at first because of how deep he was in his thoughts. Turning around, he noticed a couple of more things that left even him breathless, and now he knew exactly what he wants to do.

 The tender touch of his fingers woke you up. His mismatched eyes glowing with a smooth red light as he gazed upon your sleeping face. Gently caressing your cheeks, he planted a kiss on your forehead, picking you up from the bed without a word, carrying you outside. The clouds were light blue, it was still dark, but it was almost morning. Confused and still half asleep, you murmured some questions about what was he doing and where is he taking you, but he said no word, he just took one of the brigade's matoi, standing on the pole with you still in his arms, and you two took off when he used his Second Generation ability, controlling the flames of other ignited matoi and direct them to a certain place. You held tight, watching the sleeping homes of Asakusa beneath you.

 A golden glow on the tender grass, wind filled with soft petals of sakura flowers, and a view of mighty mountains made you believe Benimaru took you to heaven itself. You could not find the words fast enough when he started walking to the end of the meadow. You realized you were close to the cliff, when he knelt, placing you on the ground, while he was still standing. “Beni?”- you asked, but no answer, he just turned, continuing to approach the cliff dangerously close. Too close. He jumped. 

Your heart sank deep as a hysterical scream escaped your lips. You were paralyzed, could not move or breathe as you watched him disappear. But before your heart stopped from this shock, a raging flame arouse from the depths of the abyss, rising like two wings of the phoenix, painting the already stunningly colored morning sunrise with the art of his flames. Benimaru’s body appeared seconds later, as he was again standing on his matoi, traveling through air, leaving the shapes made of fire behind him. First it reminded you on fireworks, endless explosions of breathtaking colors spreading on the sky’s canvas, but this was different. The more you stared at the flames, the more sense they made. They had shapes. Shapes of people, of houses, they were even words you could now clearly read. His fiery creations appeared faster, almost like they were moving, having a life of their own. Tears started falling down your cheeks as you finally realized what you were looking at. He was telling you a story. A story of how you two first met, how you two fell in love, and how much you mean to him.

You sobbed while Benimaru continued to paint his tale in the rosy clouds, giving them the golden edges with his fire, looking like an angel surrounded with such glow that was out of this world.  He found a perfect way to express his feeling, his determination for you. There were no words or gifts on this world that could be measured with this. When the last string of fire disappeared from the face of the sky, letting the orange sun to take over and illuminate the scene, he landed right in front of you. He knelt , bowing like you were a queen and he was your loyal general, placing his face in your hands that were resting on your legs. He inhaled deeply, collecting the scent of his one true love before he spoke in a calm voice filled with emotion. “Before you (Y/N), my canvas was empty..Now, there are more colors on it that I even knew existed…I hope you understand what I am trying to say..”- he clenched the material of your night gown in his hands, lifting his head to meet your watery gaze. He brushed his cheek against your, leaving the vibrations of his next words on your skin. “Your existence, is a reason for mine.”- he pressed his warm lips on yours, wiping your tears with his fingers. “Happy birthday, (Y/N)… and know this day is the most important one for me.”

[songfell-ut]

Merry Xmas toooo

Hey @venelona remember when I was talking about that Beauty & the Beast thing in your server

Well, I copied myself, ‘cause Sans is still not good at following through on getting a human soul, and a stray bit of paper drives the plot once more.

This is nowhere near finished because it’s me. I’ll polish it up and put it on AO3 once my other gift is done for tomorrow (she said famous-last-words-ly). 

Prepare yourself for a shock: I wrote something long. Indents, meh. Warning, Sans is stupid.

Today was not a good day: it was cold, he had to get married, and now there was a human in his garden.

           This was problematic for many reasons. For one thing, as the literal lord of all he surveyed, Sans always found it hard to get any alone time, much less a chance to nap. He’d started coming outside each night after dinner to doze off for a few precious minutes, at least until the wind whistled through his sockets one time too many or his brother started yelling at him over the wall. On this particular evening, though, after his chat with Toriel, his sole aim was to avoid seeing anyone; luckily, he’d already forbidden the others from coming into the garden, and he was prepared to stay out here forever if he had to, weather and Papyrus be damned.

Sans was not prepared to take a shortcut to his favorite bench by the nightshades and sit down, only to catch sight of someone hunched behind a bush at the end of the row. The skeleton scrambled to his feet in sudden panic, readying his magic to defend himself. Who or what the hell was that? No one should be here—this was his place! Had Toriel told him all that crap to trick him into going out alone, then sent someone after him? But how?

His instinct was to attack first, but for all Sans knew, this was some kind of trap; instead, he watched and listened, waiting for the thing to make its move. His soul thrummed like a harpstring, ready to summon bones to skewer the intruder, or teleport away—

But nothing happened. As the seconds ticked by, Sans gradually realized that the small, dark-clothed figure wasn’t crouched to spring at him or lying in wait, just bending down to examine the flowers. He couldn’t sense any malicious intent whatsoever; in fact, it didn’t seem to know he was there, or that he was coming closer for a better look.

Well, no wonder: it was wearing a cloak with a deep hood that blocked its peripheral vision, and it was facing into the wind, where it couldn’t hear or smell anyone sneaking up from behind. That meant the intruder was either very confident or really fucking stupid.

Maybe it was just Monster Kid or one of the others screwing with him? After all, no matter how often Sans told them to stay the hell out of his garden, and no matter how strongly his subjects were compelled to obey him, he kept finding rocks, bits of bone, and other junk the little bastards had tossed over the wall. Things had gotten better since Papyrus started patrolling the outer courtyard, happy to combine his favorite pastimes of keeping things tidy and beating the shit out of people, but…

           But no, this wasn’t a kid who’d found a loophole in his orders, or an adult monster strong enough to defy him. Sans took a couple of quick shortcuts at different angles to appraise the intruder, confirming that it wasn’t sized or shaped like anyone he knew; it also failed to react when he stepped through an arch of greenery just a few feet away. No shift of attention, no magic gathering to attack or defend itself—who could possibly be that dumb? None of the surviving monsters would ever dream of dropping their guard like this, not even the kids!

The wind shifted, and Sans’ nasal ridge twitched as an unfamiliar stench hit him. He recognized the scent of leather from its clothes, but there were strong hints of…some kind of hair, and…bodily fluids? There was something missing, too, so basic that it took Sans a minute to pinpoint it: the trespasser had no magic whatsoever.

That was the most confusing thing of all. No matter how fishy or perfumed or otherwise gross they might be, everyone had that dry, slightly spicy smell. Had someone dressed up an animal and released it into the garden as a prank? A thrill of fear raced through him again—did Toriel’s curse include female animals? It’d be just like her to dump that on him and then make sure he ran into a bear or a deer or something!

           Suddenly, the intruder sighed heavily, straightened up, and shook its hood off. To Sans’ shock, it wasn’t an animal or a monster: the thing standing in his garden was a human. It turned its back to the wind, squinting down at the white-stoned path and up at the surrounding wall, the smooth black marble shining rose-gold in the twilight.

           What the hell was a human doing here? At least it was a male; Sans relaxed a little, then shook himself and edged forward.

Humans were legendary for their cruelty and cunning, but this particular specimen didn’t seem very dangerous. Beneath its dusty travel clothes and heavy cloak, it was almost as short at Sans, with a wrinkly face and gray streaks in its hair. Did all humans get like that after only…what, fifty years? Granted, Sans was just twenty-five, a baby by monster standards, but he wouldn’t be this twitchy or feeble when he reached the human’s age. And he wouldn’t be dumb enough to wander into someone else’s territory after sundown!

           The man had started walking again, still oblivious to Sans’ presence, and paused at a fork in the path. Sans silently willed him to turn right, and he’d been obeyed by everyone he knew for so long that it was a surprise to see the human go left instead. The skeleton watched in irritation, then disbelief, as his uninvited guest sat down on a low wall and pulled a map out of his pocket.

           That had to be the stupidest thing Sans had ever seen. Did human maps of the area include HAUNTED CASTLE ON FORBIDDEN MOUNTAIN? He doubted it. Besides, there was a village at the foot of the mountain, straight down through the forest; even if he couldn’t find the main path, all this moron had to do was walk downhill, back the…way he’d…

Wait. How had he even gotten in here?

           Quick as thought, Sans zipped over to the massive iron gates that stood between the castle and the outside world. Sure enough, the ivy growing between the bars had been disturbed at one end where the man had squeezed through. Sans extended one bony finger very, very slowly toward the gate, and as his phalange approached the nearest bar, the air filled with a warning hum, his bones prickling with alarm till he stepped away.

The barrier was still working, then. What had the King said before they dusted him? Anything could get in, but nothing could get out…except a monster in possession of a human soul. But there were no—

           The skeleton monster’s sockets widened again, this time in excitement. He grinned hugely, then took a shortcut back to the human, who was trying to fold up the map. Just in case, Sans peered at the human’s chest, gauging how much effort this would take.

           His elation immediately vanished, disgust welling up in its place. Of all the humans who could’ve wandered up here, it had to be one with a pathetically weak, almost sickly little soul—and why did it have to be green? Fucking Kindness! Talk about shitty luck!

           Not that he was going to pass up the opportunity, of course. Absorbing any human soul, no matter how crappy, would give him power greater than every other monster who’d ever lived, combined. He could finally pass through the gates, descend on the human village like a force of nature, grab as many souls as he wanted, and come back here to destroy the ga—no, he’d wreck the whole fucking castle! The others would finally be free, too, though he wouldn’t be stupid enough to share any souls with them. Maybe Pap could have a few, just enough to fulfill his dream of tearing Undyne to pieces, and to help eliminate Toriel; then they’d be untouchable in a world where “kill or be killed” was the only rule!

Sans was jerked back to the present by the human making a horribly wet noise and pulling a square of cloth from his pocket. Why was this disgusting sack of flesh even here, anyway? As far as Sans knew, no one had come near the castle for decades; even the local wildlife stayed far away. Yet here he was, an ordinary-looking human who had come all the way up the mountain in the approaching dark.

The man had finally sensed something wrong and was looking around uneasily. “Hello?” he called. Sans stayed where he was, silent and contemptuous; sure enough, the human’s gaze swept right past him. “Odd,” he murmured, lowering the map and folding it in half.

           Sans knew he should go ahead and kill the guy now, but the wind chose that moment to pick back up, rustling through the flowers and nearly yanking the map out of the human’s hands; the man swore and fumbled at the stiff parchment, fighting to keep hold of it.

The skeleton chuckled, almost pityingly. As lord of the castle, he decided he could be magnanimous and let this moron finish putting the map away. Besides, it was funny as hell to watch him lose to a piece of paper.

           Eventually, the man gave up and tried instead to stuff the half-folded map into his pocket, pulling a few things out to make room. Enough of this, thought Sans, his amusement fading. The skeleton took a few steps forward, letting his magic swell to a darkly feverish pitch and drift off him like red smoke. He was probably scary enough as it was, but anything worth doing was worth overdoing, especially when it’d make the human’s reaction that much funnier.

           Besides, this idiot had trespassed on Sans’ land and his solitude at exactly the wrong time. A quick, clean death was too good for him, but it couldn’t be helped: Sans had to get his soul out in one piece and reach the village before daybreak. Ha, maybe he’d put his hood up and pretend to be the Reaper the humans feared so much—wasn’t that why they had exterminated every single skeleton monster but him and Pap? He’d give the fuckers something to be afraid of!

It was time, all right. The human had finally sensed someone at his back, and began to turn around. “Excuse me, I—”

           Another gust of wind suddenly came howling through the garden and tore the map out of the human’s grip. It landed with a thk and skidded along the white-stoned path; with it went a couple of envelopes he’d set on his lap, and another, much smaller piece of paper, which blew straight into the nearest flowerbed.

           The human’s demeanor changed in an instant from annoyance to panic. “No!” He flailed at the air, then stumbled over the wall, charging through the flowers. “Come back here!” he yelled, as if the wind or the paper could understand him.

           Sans froze, feeling his magic go still as the blossoms answered—or, rather, echoed: “Come back here!” What the hell was the guy doing tromping around like that? Those were echo flowers, not daisies! One of them was worth twenty of this dumbfuck!

The wind was still blowing, but after a few clumsy grabs, the human threw himself full-length onto the ground, trapping the paper amongst the squished flowers. He sighed gustily – ha – and stood up, smiling. “There you are,” he murmured, his voice clear as the wind dropped to a light breeze.

The skeleton couldn’t see what the human was looking at so fondly. In his irate curiosity, he hesitated another moment too long: “Hm,” the man said to himself. “Yes, that’ll do.” He crouched again, grabbed a blossom at random, and plucked it clean out of the ground.

           “What the fuck?”

           Sans’ roar shattered the air like a rock through a stained-glass window. He was too angry to enjoy the human’s shriek of terror, or his attempt to turn and run; the skeleton jerked his hand up and sideways, yanking the man off his feet and hurling him onto the path. “Who the fuck d’you think you are?” snarled Sans. His magic flared up again as he advanced, staining the footpath red. “Huh?”

           The human was trembling violently, staring up at him. “Are you deaf or somethin’?” the monster demanded. He grabbed the man by the collar, hauling him to his feet. “Answer me, or I’ll rip yer fuckin’ head off!”

           The human gulped. “I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat rolling off his face. “P-P-Please forgive me, my lord! I-I was being pursued by bandits, and they didn’t stop until I reached this place! I needed shelter, someone to point the way home—” He peeked up at Sans again, almost hiccuping in fear. “I-If you’ll permit me to leave, I swear I’ll never trouble you again!”

           Sans glanced up at a nearby lantern hanging on an iron post, and it obligingly lit itself. “That’s for damn sure,” said the skeleton. His wrath faded a little as his prisoner gaped at him in the clearer light. Now he understood the expression “bug-eyed,” not to mention “slack-jawed”; it was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen. Still… “You expect me to believe ya just wandered in here outta nowhere?” Sans jerked his head at the castle looming behind him, though the moon hadn’t risen to provide a properly spooky silhouette. “Didja think you could sneak in, grab somethin’, an’ get out before anybody noticed? ‘Cause I fuckin’ noticed!” He stabbed a finger at the echo flower in the human’s hand. “That shit doesn’t grow just anywhere!”

           The man blinked stupidly at the flower, as if surprised to see it. His eyes darted back and forth, his other hand sneaking toward his pocket. “I…I can explain, my l—”

           “Uh-uh.” Sans waggled his finger, and the human cried out as his hand was yanked straight over his head, the little slip of paper fluttering to the ground. Ignoring his protests, Sans made a couple more gestures to open the man’s coat and run a thread of magic through the pockets, then the lining. He frowned as he found several coins, letters, a comb, a pipe…but no weapons.

Huh. If the human hadn’t been going for a knife or something, then what the hell was he doing? Was he just trying to put the paper away? How goddamn stupid could he—

           “Please!” the man almost shrieked, and Sans was startled into releasing him. He watched the human stumble back, dropping the echo flower in his haste to run after the slip of paper again. Luckily for him, it blew against the corner of another bench, where he could easily stoop to retrieve it. The map lay nearby, but the human didn’t even look at it; he sighed in relief, and started to turn around.

           Sans was directly in front of him, grinning at his strangled squeak. “Whatcha got there?” The skeleton didn’t wait for an answer, just reached for it.

           “No!” To his astonishment, the man flailed at him, backing away till his shins hit the bench. “I-It’s nothing!” the human babbled. “Nothing at all! Just a picture that I didn’t want to lose! You can leave it!”

           Later, Sans would try to blame himself for not being more careful. But he had every right to be curious, and no reason to be thinking of Toriel right then; it was only natural for him to use his magic to grab the paper and hold it up to see what was so fucking important. So, he did.

           The human was right: it was a delicate ink drawing. Sans felt the smirk slide right off his face, and he took the picture in both hands, peering so intently that he didn’t even notice the man grabbing his sleeve. “Who’s this?” the skeleton inquired, trying to sound careless. “Yer wife?”

           “My daughter!” The guy was actually jumping to try to grab it, like a frantic kid. “As I said, it’s worth nothing to you! Please give it back!”

Sans absently pushed the human off with his elbow, raising the paper to the light. “Knock it off,” he grunted as the man came right back.

The human’s sheeplike face contorted. “Has milord never seen a woman before? Give it ba—”

Skeletal fingers shot out and locked around his throat. To Sans’ surprise, when he glared down at the human, the man glared right back, even as he clawed at Sans’ radius. “Why d’you want it so bad? Is she dead or somethin’?” the monster asked in sudden hope.

The human’s eyes bulged wider, and he struggled to speak until Sans loosened his grip. After a bit of coughing and puffing, the man rasped, “How dare you? She’s my child, you wretched beast!” He dashed Sans’ hopes with a jerky shake of the head. “I’ve been away from her for over a month, and I was only hours from home when I was attacked! That’s all I’ve had of her! If I’m going to die at your hand, the very least you can do is let me see it one more time!”

           Sans’ jaw clenched so hard that his single golden tooth creaked under the pressure. He shut his sockets, aware that he had to think very carefully before he spoke. “I got some questions for ya,” he snarled. “Tell me the truth, an’ you might leave in one piece.” He opened his sockets, his ruby eyelights pulsing across the human’s face. “Got it?”

           The wind shrieked past them again, but Sans held both the human and the slip of paper steady. The man stared at him in clear distrust; Sans wasn’t sure if he was being brave, or stupid, or what, but he wasn’t cowering anymore. As a slight token of respect, the skeleton opened his hand, letting the human jerk away. “Yes, milord,” the latter whispered, massaging his throat. “Whatever you wish.”

           Sans snorted, and snuck another glance at the portrait. “What’s your family name? What were you doin’ away from home fer so long?”

           The man’s brow wrinkled further. “My name is Proust, milord. I’m a merchant, so I travel frequently. I’ve been investigating a business opportunity in the capital.”

           A merchant? That was hard to believe. The coins in the human’s pockets consisted solely of pennies and a few silver pieces that Sans didn’t recognize; Proust was dressed fairly well, but on closer inspection, the fur trim of his cloak was patchy, while his leather coat was shiny with age. Either he was a cheapskate, or he hadn’t made any real money in a long time. “How’d it go?” Sans asked sardonically.

           “Poorly, milord,” the man snapped. “I promised Frisk I’d bring her something from the city, but then I could barely afford to pay my way home.” He looked down at the echo flower, which lay on the stones between them. “She likes gardening, so…”

           Sans knew he should make another fuss about the theft, but he had a bigger problem. “‘Frisk’?” he repeated. “Is that a nickname or somethin’?”

           “No,” Proust said stiffly. “What else would my lord care to know?”

           Sans gave him another glare, and though the man flinched, he didn’t look away. “Heh,” the skeleton murmured. “She your only kid?”

           “Yes, my lord. My wife died in childbirth. Frisk…” His voice caught. “She’s all I have left.”

The monster grimaced. He almost would’ve preferred an aggressive human to a sappy one. “How old is she?” The paper trembled. It wasn’t the wind: his hands were shaking. “Did you leave her home alone, or with ‘er husband, or…?”

           The human eyed him in rightful suspicion. “She’s twenty-two, my lord. We live with my brother’s family. She’s unwed—I’ve had several offers for her hand, but she refused them all.”

“Why?” Sans asked bluntly.

Proust blinked a few times. “She didn’t love them. She didn’t even like most of them, and the one she might have accepted left because my brother wouldn’t give her a dowry. Why do you—”

“A dowry?” Sans repeated. “The hell is that?”

This was obviously a sensitive question: the human’s face turned a weird color, and something pulsed near his eyebrow—a vein? Was that what it was called? Sans turned his head in disgust, studying the portrait again. If she had veins, he couldn’t see any.

The human cleared his throat. “It’s a gift of money or other goods that a woman brings to a marriage. Many young women in our social class have a difficult time finding a husband without one, and…”

“An’ you don’t have enough cash to sell her off?” Sans waved a hand as Proust swelled with rage again. “Never mind. Whatever stupid shit humans get up to, I don’ care.” He was quiet for a moment. “Just seems pathetic that you’ve gotta pay someone to take ‘er.”

“Was milord listening?” the human demanded. “I’ve had six other gentlemen ask to marry her, and four were willing to forego any dowry at all! She was good enough!”

It was Sans’ turn to twitch. “Why? What’s so great about ‘er?”

Proust made a noise like an angry frog. “May I humbly entreat milord to explain his gracious interest in my family?”

           Sans toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, and shrugged. “Just curious. So, I’m guessin’ you wanna see her again?”

           “Yes, milord, absolutely,” the man said in a rush. “I’d do anything—you have no idea how much she means to me!” He looked longingly at the paper in Sans’ hand, still held up to the lamplight. “She drew that herself,” he added.

           Sans started. “Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.

           “Yes, indeed,” the human said proudly.

           The skeleton scowled at the picture. It was a perfect rendition of a young woman seated at a table, wearing an old-fashioned gown; her dark hair was twisted up into a bun, showing a small earring, a pearl necklace, and a graceful curve of neck and shoulder. Now that Proust mentioned it, she did seem to be drawing herself in the mirror, one hand holding a pencil and the other steadying the paper, her head tilted to look up at Sans.

           For a moment, he was so angry that he couldn’t breathe. This was bullshit! Why should he pass up his chance at unlimited power because of a girl who probably wasn’t even that pretty in real life? He should just rip the stupid picture in half, rip the human in half, grab his shitty green soul, and get things started!

           But the longer he stared at the paper, the less he wanted to rip it in half, kill the human, become godlike, etc. etc. It just seemed…boring? Unnecessary?

Tch. This was all Toriel’s fault! She’d called him to her room that evening in an absolute fit of laughter and told him exactly what was going to happen, and the old bitch knew he’d come down here afterward and—

           And he couldn’t stay mad about it. Instead, something weird was happening behind his sternum, a sticky kind of warmth spreading like an infection through his ribcage and down his limbs. No matter how hard he tried to dwell on being jerked around, or why it had to be some squishy human with a dumb father and a weird name, Sans couldn’t look away from the portrait, caught by the girl’s clear, bright eyes. No one had ever smiled at him like that…

           He came down here every night to get away from everyone, but what if…what if he had someone he didn’t want to get away from? Unbidden, a thought crept up: what would the garden look like with this human in it, helping water the flowers or sitting with him to watch the sun set? What would it be like to always have someone to talk to about stuff bothering him, help with all the day-to-day crap of running the household…smile at him, keep him warm at night—

Shit! Had Toriel laughed at him because she knew he’d actually want this to happen?

           “Hello?” Proust was asking. “Milord? Is something wrong?”

           Sans shook himself. “Fine, she can draw. Does she know how ta do anything?” That’d be a perfect excuse to forget about her. If he wanted to keep something cute and useless around, he could just put a collar on one of the kids and make it do tricks!

           The human actually laughed at him. “We went to stay with my brother, milord, when Frisk was fourteen years old. He was a widower, so she took it upon herself to be the lady of the house. Within a few months, she was managing his servants, balancing his accounts, organizing his social affairs—clear up till he remarried last year.” His narrow chest puffed out. “It’s a large part of the reason she’s been sought after. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

           The monster’s hands were trembling again, a strange sensation burning him from the inside out. “Is—” It was a childish question, but he couldn’t help it: “Is she nice?”

           Proust looked at him strangely. “Yes, milord. She is.” He flinched as Sans’ grip on the drawing tightened. “Forgive me,” the man quavered, “but why do you—”

“Gimme your hand,” growled the skeleton. He gestured, keeping the paper suspended in midair as he lowered his own hands. “Take the glove off.”

           Proust swallowed once or twice, then obeyed. Sans didn’t hide his distaste as he took hold of Proust’s wrist, the human’s pulse twitching against his thumb. For a second, he didn’t know if he could go through with it; then he glanced at the portrait, and said, “Don’t move.” Before he could lose his nerve, the monster lifted a skull-shaped pendant from beneath his shirt, positioned the human’s finger between its tiny jaws, and willed them to snap shut.

           Proust yelped as the pendant latched onto his finger. “What in God’s name is that thing?” he cried, trying to shake it off.

“Magic,” Sans said pleasantly. The poor skull didn’t seem to like it any more than the human did: its jaws sprang right back open, and he could’ve sworn he saw it make a face at him.

Proust was staring at his hand in disbelief, searching for signs of any blood or puncture wounds—nothing. “What…?”

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Sans tucked the pendant back under his shirt. “There’s a spot over by the gates where you can sleep. No one’s allowed in here, so you oughta be safe till morning. When you leave, jus’ head straight down the mountain. Pretty much any of the paths will take you to Ebott. I’d send ya there now, but my magic can’t get through the barrier on the gate.” He sighed. “Need ta pull some strings to get you back out at all.”

           The human was torn between intense relief and distrust. “Thank you, my lord. May I—”

           “Nope. Just be happy that’s all I did.” Sans indicated the man’s finger as Proust pulled his glove back on. “I’ll even let ya bring ‘er the flower. Nice, eh?”

           The man swallowed hard. “Yes, milord. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But…may I please ask why?”

The shadows seemed to creep in, darkening the lamplight. The human shrank back as the skeleton’s grin broadened. “Wanna hear somethin’ funny?” Sans reached up to run a finger along the portrait’s bottom edge. “I’m the boss around here, but there’s a lady hangin’ around I can’t get rid of, and she knows stuff. Guess what she told me ‘fore I came out here. Go on, guess!”

Proust looked nearly sick. “I…I don’t know, my lord. What did she—”

“She said, ‘Congratulations!’ An’ I said, ‘On what?’ And she said, ‘On your upcoming marriage!’ So a’course, I said, ‘The fuck are you talkin’ about?’ An’ she said I was gonna meet my wife real soon.”

It was subtle, but Proust’s eyes flicked to Sans’ pelvis. The skeleton’s amusement vanished. Just like a human—didn’t he know how magic worked? “Yeah, my wife,” he growled. “Funny part is, she was right.” The monster took Frisk’s drawing in one hand and tapped the side of his skull with it. “Wanna know who Toriel said it’d be?”

The man didn’t move, except to make a noise vaguely resembling “Who?”

Sans chuckled. “The first woman I saw once I left the room.”

A beat of silence. Sans was wondering if he’d have to spell it out when Proust howled, “No!” and made a credible attempt to tackle Sans and grab his daughter’s picture. “You can’t—”

The skeleton sent him sprawling with one push. “Sorry, Dad,” he drawled. “I left the room, an’ I saw ‘er. That’s that.” He laughed harshly at the man’s expression. “What? She’s gonna get her own damn castle, lotsa nice stuff—I won’t even make you pay for ‘er!”

“You—” Sans watched, bemused, as the human sprang to his feet, fists clenched. “Tear me limb from limb if you want, but I am not giving my daughter to a thing like you!”

“Yeah, about that.” The skeleton raised a finger. “Y’know that little nibble ya got just now? ’s a great trick. Lemme show you how it works.” Hmm…what to do? Better not get carried away, or the guy would have a nervous breakdown before he could get his daughter up here. “Grab the echo flower and say, ‘I’m a stupid doo-doo butt.’”

Before Proust could protest, his body turned, stooped, and picked up the blue flower. He brought it to his lips, and said, very solemnly, “I’m a stupid doo-doo butt.” Then his head jerked up. “What in the—”

Sans hooted with laughter, fighting the urge to slap his future father-in-law on the back and accidentally break his spine. “See? When I say you’re gonna do somethin’, you don’t have a choice, do ya?” He sobered in an instant. “So, yer gonna go home an’ fetch ‘er for me. Got it?”

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done to me,” Proust said defiantly. “You said it yourself. Once I pass your gates, your magic won’t have any effect.”

“Good thing it ain’t my magic, then. It’s yours.” He got a blank stare, and sighed in exasperation. This was getting old: it was chilly out here, and he had a lot of planning to do. “I don’ have time fer a whole magic lesson. What it boils down to is, yer a part’a this place now. The magic’s with you wherever you go. Even when ya get back home—”

Proust chose that moment to make a break for it. Sans watched him race toward the gates, then reappeared directly in front of the bars, forcing the human to stop short. “Listen,” he said coldly, forestalling Proust’s attempt to cover his ears. “Three days from now, you’re gonna bring Frisk here. Yer gonna tell ‘er whatever you need to make ‘er stay. Then you’re gonna shut up and leave, and you won’t come back.”

The human’s face was crumpling in a way that suggested something wet was about to happen. “You can’t be serious, milord! Please spare her! Kill me instead!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, quit bein’ dramatic!” Sans jerked his thumb at the castle. “Like I said, she’s gonna have everythin’ a lady could ever want. Almost everyone’s dead now, so there’s a bunch of neat stuff left. Hell, we got a whole room with nothin’ but jewelry in it.”

For some reason, this didn’t seem to reassure the human. “Frisk does not want things, and even if she could be bought off like that, a wonderful young woman like her has no business being entrapped by a loathsome abomination like y—”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Right. Fucking. Now.”

Proust’s teeth clicked shut as the air around Sans roiled with crimson magic. “Just for that,” the skeleton hissed. He stepped forward, jabbing the human’s shoulder with one pointed phalange, almost a claw. “Just for that, you’re not allowed ta make stuff up about her goin’ to school or marryin’ a human or somethin’. You’re gonna tell the truth: you fucked up an’ trespassed on my property, and you only get to live ‘cause you had somethin’ worth tradin’.” Another poke. “Let ‘er know that you’ve got three days from now—” Sans glanced at the rising moon. “—an’ if you’re not here by then, she gets ta watch her dad rot from the inside out.”

Another long moment of silence passed as the human stared up at Sans, hopelessness dawning as he searched in vain for any sign of mercy. There was no telling what he would have said if another sound hadn’t made them both jump: “SANS!” It came from over the marble wall, advancing rapidly. “YOU HAVE HAD EXACTLY AS MUCH LEISURE AS YOU DESERVE, LORD BROTHER! I HOPE YOUR TIME HAS BEEN RESTFUL, BECAUSE YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MISCREANTS TO DISCIPLINE AND A JAM SHORTAGE TO ADDRESS BEFORE YOU CAN RETIRE FOR THE NIGHT.” A stiff click-click of heeled boots. “I WILL BE WAITING IN YOUR SITTING ROOM. YOU ARE HUMBLY REQUESTED TO BE THERE WITHIN TEN MINUTES OR ELSE FACE SEVERE CONSEQUENCES!”

Sans mumbled a long stream of curse words as Papyrus’ footsteps strutted away. That reminded him of something. “Don’t even think about killin’ yerself or breakin’ a leg or somethin’ ta get out of this,” the skeleton said, still facing the garden wall. “I’ll say it one more time: go home, get ‘er packed up, an’ bring her back here on time. No tricks, no cute little loopholes, nothin’. Don’t bring anybody else with you, or I’ll kill ‘em. Got it?”

The human shuddered. “How—” His voice cracked. “How can you do this? You don’t have to do this! This is your castle, your land—surely there are enough women of your own kind to choose from? You don’t have to steal my daughter!”

The skeleton shifted to look at him. “Nope,” he said, and made to step around the human.

“Wait!” Proust fell to his knees, fists clasped in supplication. “One thing, my lord, I beg of you! Please don’t harm her!”

Sans could’ve cheerfully punted the man across the garden. “The fuck?” the monster snarled down at him. “Why the hell would I hurt my own wife? What am I, a goddamn human?”

There was no answer, only a ragged sob. “Good night,” the skeleton muttered. Proust tried to say something else, but Sans paid him no mind: he had things to do, and to look forward to.

~

           Her father was hiding something.

           That seemed impossible, and not just because he was a terrible liar: almost the moment he stumbled over the threshold of her uncle’s house in a filthy, sobbing heap, he had started babbling about a monster stealing his Frisk. Once he’d been cleaned up, fed, and tucked into bed, he’d stayed awake long enough to relate a horrible, fantastical tale of stumbling across the castle from local legend and running afoul of its hideous master. And they’d believed it, because…well, she loved her father, but he had the most wretched luck imaginable.

           At least her aunt had been asleep when all the commotion started, so there was nothing to stop Uncle Raph from assuring his brother that they would look into the matter as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Servants were dispatched to fetch books from the library and summon the nearest mage from his cottage outside the village; by the time Aunt Kay woke up, her maid could report to her that her brother-in-law had come home bearing a “geas,” a type of curse far too powerful for humans to break, and would lose his daughter in less than three days.

           Frisk had to give her aunt credit: she said all the correct things about being so very sorry and hoping that there was a way to save her poor niece from having to live with literal monsters, possibly for the rest of her life! And when it became apparent that there was nothing anyone could do, she was the first to embrace Frisk – as much as she could around her enormous belly, of course – and assure her that if any young woman could handle such a bizarre fate, it was her. She’d packed a bag of sentimental items for Frisk to take with her in case she got homesick, with only the slightest hint of glee at having sole dominion over the house now.

           Her father had come home with a cold brewing, because of course he had; knowing she was going to leave and having so little warning had caused chaos among the servants, and Frisk was too busy making arrangements to do more than check in on her father every few hours. He spent most of his time either asleep or staring at the beautiful blue flower he’d brought her.

           That was the last bit of proof anyone needed to believe his story. Echo flowers only grew in intensely magical surroundings, and there was so little magic left nowadays that they were thought to be extinct. But here it was, a thick-stemmed, six-petaled blossom that repeated anything spoken nearby. Frisk would’ve been more excited about it under different circumstances, but…well, maybe her new employer would let her have a few of her own.

           The whole thing was strange, all the more so because of the way her father had told that part when they were gathered to listen to his story. He’d said he was bound to do what the creature commanded him, which was to bring his daughter up to the castle within three days’ time. The most logical supposition was that Frisk was going to get eaten, but her father had hastened to assure them that the beast seemed angry at the very idea of hurting Frisk. He just wanted…

           There was that little hitch in his voice when he said the beast wanted Frisk to perform all the functions of a housekeeper, and that she would be well rewarded—why hadn’t he just said “The monster needs a housekeeper”? And why had he clutched his chest like that afterward? Was the geas hurting him for saying the wrong thing?

           Frisk had kept herself too busy to think about it very hard, to believe that she was really going to be thrown out of another home and into the clutches of monsters from myth and legend; on some level, she could convince herself that her father had exaggerated or made some kind of mistake, and it wasn’t going to be so bad. But now, nearing sunset on the third day after her father’s misadventure, they were most of the way up the mountain, and fear was starting to creep through her veins like frost. Her father could be naïve, even simple-minded, but he wasn’t crazy. She really was going to be left alone in a strange place full of strange creatures, expected to take care of them, answering to a walking, talking skeleton—this couldn’t be happening!

A couple of the younger manservants had insisted on accompanying them part of the way. The mage had warned them that they could only get so close to the castle before the horses refused to go any further; sure enough, about a mile from the castle gates, the men had to help them dismount before the animals grew frightened enough to turn and bolt. Frisk gave each man a quick hug – at least her aunt wasn’t there to scold her – and they reluctantly headed back down the mountain to wait with the terrified horses, ready to escort her father home.

           The latter was growing more and more agitated as they approached the castle on foot. He could barely speak with his throat raw from coughing, but the way he kept glancing at her, clearing his throat and sighing heavily— “What is it, Father?” Frisk finally asked.

           “I…” He swallowed. “I haven’t been entirely truthful, dear.” She stiffened, shifting her bundle to her other shoulder as he coughed into his handkerchief. “The creature didn’t order me to say the exact words in just the right order, and I didn’t want to humiliate you in front of everyone by telling the full story—”

           “What story?” The lump in her throat grew heavier as the trees started thinning out, the ground sloping sharply upward. “Is it really true that I have to stay with the monsters and keep house for them?”

           “It’s true, love, but…” Another maddening pause. “Er. He is a skeleton, so I believe you’ll be spared…some things, but running the household is included in your role as—”

           The wind rose from nothing to a scream of frigid air, nearly throwing them to the ground. Frisk lowered her arm, and to her dismay… “We’re here,” her father croaked.

           In the dying light, a huge wall loomed over them, black marble framing a set of gates over thirty feet tall. The bars were nearly obscured by climbing ivy; despite her fear, Frisk found herself drifting closer in sheer curiosity, reaching to pull the ivy aside.

           “Frisk!” her father croaked. He was almost unrecognizable, pulling her back and giving her a little shake. “I…” She watched him struggle with himself, and lose. “Stay here, and be good,” he said jerkily. His lips formed a few frantic words, but she couldn’t catch them before he crushed her to him in a sudden, fierce embrace. “Be careful,” he whispered. “I love y—”

           The sun had disappeared over the horizen. Before she could hug him back, Frisk felt something coursing through her father’s body, forcing his arms to drop and his legs to carry him back a step. He struggled to get more words out, but it was too late—what had his last orders been? “Shut up and leave”? Charming, and succinct…and effective.

This was it. Frisk had had plenty of practice at smiling, and did her best. “Goodbye, Father,” she said helplessly. “I love you, too.” Then she turned and plunged through the ivy before he could hurt himself resisting any further.

           When she stepped free of the bars and brushed the leaves from her face, Frisk almost forgot her sorrow and despair in sheer wonder. Lamps on iron posts lit up a garden arranged in long, orderly, but breathtakingly lovely rows of bushes, flowerbeds, statuary—she’d never seen anything like it. Letting her bundle hang from one wrist, Frisk turned to look at the gates and the massive walls, wondering how big the grounds must be if this was just a private garden. Granted, it belonged to the lord of the castle, and he obviously cared enough to keep it in good order…

           And had terrorized her father into forcing her out of her home to come play housekeeper amongst total strangers for…how long? If the problem was just that monsters couldn’t cook or clean up after themselves, maybe she could stay long enough to teach them and then go back. Surely they didn’t expect her to do it all on her own forever, not when they had magic to help them do everything? But if they could do it with magic, then why bring her here at all?

           Frisk shook her head, scanning the garden for signs of life. She could hear a fountain burbling in the near distance, just out of sight; the wind was freezing, but carried the smell of flowers, helping calm the human down a little. It was enough to let her take a step forward, then a few more, wandering into the first stand of rosebushes and a patch of black irises. Their petals didn’t reflect light, but shone like velvet, tempting her to reach out—no, she thought hastily, snatching her hand away. Touching flowers without permission was what got her poor, well-meaning, hapless father into this mess!

           No one seemed to be coming to meet her, but then, it wasn’t completely dark yet. If she had a few minutes to herself, then Frisk figured she could spend it in peace and calm before she met her fate, whatever that might be, whatever her father had been trying to tell her… So the young woman stood up and set off down the path, taking her time examining the rows of irises, snapdragons, and several flowers that had no business blooming at this time of year.

She didn’t see a shadow step out from behind a lamppost. Nor did she notice when it hesitated, then vanished, reappearing behind another lamppost, and another, and another, till it was just a few steps away.

Frisk thought she felt someone watching her, but when she turned around, there was nothing there. Shivering, she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, squinting up at a faint outline against the darkening sky. The castle wasn’t exactly hard to find, but that didn’t mean she knew how to get there; the garden was so huge that she couldn’t tell which path led out of it. Maybe she should—

“h u m a n~”

Raw terror flooded her senses, and her brain screamed so many conflicting orders that nothing got through; Frisk could only stand stock-still, clutching her bundle till she summoned the courage to whirl around.

Nothing was there. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, she couldn’t have imagined such an awful voice, deep and rough as—

A delicate tap, tap on her shoulder.

Frisk shrieked and twisted around, landing on her rear with an ungentle thmp. “What are you doing?” she yelled. “Who’s—”

The air went still, her lungs shriveling and her heart stopping at the sight of a skeleton – this must be the skeleton – looming over her. The smooth bone of its skull had a dull, velvety sheen like the iris’ petals, and dots of red hellfire glinted in its empty sockets. Its teeth – no, fangs – were bared in a cruel grin, hands buried in the pockets of its black coat; beneath it, the creature’s shirt was a surprisingly bright red—satin? The tidy, domestic corner of her mind wondered how expensive that had been, and how difficult it was to keep clean; as a matter of fact, the skeleton was more richly dressed than her father had been at the peak of his wealth, right down to a frankly garish gold tooth. This had to be the lord of the castle, beyond a doubt.

But his wealth was less important than the fact that a skeleton was staring down at her. It didn’t speak, or grab her, or do anything but stand there, its face unreadable. Surely it could talk, after the way it had cursed her father?

Anger surged through her, propelling her to her feet. “Greetings, my lord,” Frisk said coolly, stepping back to discreetly brush herself off and drop into a deep curtsey. One of them had to be civilized about this! “My name is Frisk. I am here by your command.”

The skeleton blinked, the bone of its sockets somehow closing just like a human’s eyelids. Frisk was almost too fascinated to be angry—almost. It silently shifted its weight. Was it a “he”? The monster was dressed like a male, and had sounded like it. Why wasn’t he saying anything else?

A light gust of wind flapped her hood against her neck. Shivering, she broke eye contact to hitch her bundle back over her shoulder and reach to pull the hood up. “I hope I’m not too late to—”

Quicker than she could blink, the creature was right in front of her, inches away. Frisk tried not to cringe as his bony fingers plucked the hood from her grasp, letting it drop against her back. “What…?” Stupidly, she reached up again, and the skeleton’s brows drew together. His fingers pushed her hand away and, to her shock, rose to brush her hair off her cheek.

That did it: she was willing to come here to save her father’s life, not to be scared out of her mind, stared down, kept freezing, and all but propositioned by the thing that had done this to them! Who did he think he was?! “I beg your pardon!” she snarled, and the skeleton’s sockets widened as she smacked his hand away. “You will not touch me without my permission, milord! And if I am not allowed to wear this—” Frisk waggled her hood. “—then you will please take me somewhere out of the wind!” She tried not to sniffle, and hoped he’d attribute it to the cold. Without thinking, she scratched her cheek, trying to erase the unwanted feeling of those smooth, warmish fingers on her skin. “Lead the way!”

To her alarm, the red light in his sockets vanished, as if she’d blown out a candle. “Yes, m’lady,” growled a voice from somewhere deep in its chest. Frisk gripped her bundle as the skeleton turned on its heel. “Come along.”

Frisk tried not to gulp too loud, and hoped it – he – couldn’t hear her heart pounding as she followed him across the garden. With the anger ebbing away, fear was reclaiming her, dulling the wind’s bite and the ache building in her feet from the walk here; her aunt had insisted she wear a respectable dress and heeled slippers to meet her new master, never mind how impractical they were for traveling, and Frisk could feel a blister forming.

The skeleton’s shoulders were hunched, his hands in his pockets as his boots scuffed the white stones. It was a distinctly un-noble posture, almost sullen. Was he really the lord of the castle? He wasn’t carrying himself with much confidence, and though she’d obviously irritated him, he hadn’t bothered to correct her. Maybe monsters were nicer than humans overall, no matter what the stories said; maybe, she thought as they exited the garden through a wicker gate and started across a courtyard, humans were entirely wrong about them. She might just be a—

“Dumbass!”

The skeleton stopped so fast that she nearly walked into him. A moment later, something flew across their path, followed closely by a small yellow body. “The ball’s a dumbass,” it said helpfully in passing, with the snide, high-pitched tone of a child almost breaking the rules.

Frisk’s escort made a low noise and suddenly whipped his hand up and around. She barely had time to process what was happening before the little monster was jerked into the air, flipping upside down and hanging in a scarlet cloud. “Ya think you’re smart?” the lord demanded, gesturing to silence the…child, she supposed. “Don’t answer that!”

The lizard-like monster didn’t have arms to gesture with, but kicked his feet and snapped his teeth more than expressively enough. “Knock it off,” the skeleton warned him.

The child obediently stopped kicking, and started mouthing obscenities instead. To Frisk’s dismay, the cloud of magic dropped him onto the ground head-first and, before he could recover, picked him back up; the lizard stuck his tongue out in defiance, at which the red cloud rose several feet higher before dropping him again. This time, when it picked him up—

“Stop it!” Frisk protested. They both glared at her, and she shook her head. “He’s just being a child! He’s not hurting anyone!”

The skeleton snorted. Frisk felt her face flushing again as the magic dropped the young monster once more; the child gave her one sneering glance before scuttling off. Then the lord turned to glare at Frisk, who was trembling with fear and rage. “I could say a lot of stuff right now, but you just got here,” he said with dangerous patience, “so I’m gonna cut you some slack.” He started walking again. “C’mon. Everyone should be in the Great Hall by now, ‘cept that little fucker, but that’s fine. He’ll hear it, too.”

Frisk wanted to ask what he meant, and object to his language, but she was tired, and cold, and sore, and hungry, and now keenly aware of what the monster could do to her if he chose. She followed him meekly across the courtyard and through several more winding paths, most too dimly lit to see more than the skeleton’s broad back; he wasn’t much taller than her, but he was powerfully built, even without his hellish magic. He didn’t look sullen anymore, just angry. Frisk wasn’t one for self-pity, but…what had she done to deserve this?

He eventually stopped in front of a door so small and unassuming that she went right in after him, blinking in the sudden light, expecting to see a kitchen or servants’ entrance; instead, when her vision cleared, it revealed a dazzling array of…red carpets, stairs, dozens of voices, thousands of candles—her senses were too overloaded to take it all in. This must be the Great Hall, she thought muzzily, barely aware that the skeleton had turned to watch her.

She did notice when he took her hand, fingers tightening as she reflexively pulled away. “This way,” he muttered.

Frisk couldn’t help scowling. For someone who had spent so much time and cruel effort getting her here, he didn’t seem at all happy to have her. At least his hand gave her something to focus on as he led her through the columns at the back of the room and into the center of the red carpet. As she’d thought when he touched her face in the garden – which she still resented – his bones were as warm as human fingers, with a strange consistency, smooth and slightly pliant. He was probably strong enough to crush her fingers like brittle leaves, but he held them just firmly enough that she couldn’t get away. How nice of him, she thought irritably.

Suddenly, the skeleton paused and turned to face the room. “Hey,” he said, almost conversationally. “Shut up.”

The human thought he was talking to her until the hall grew very quiet, making her ears itch. A tug on her hand turned her to face the same way he was, and her eyes widened.

The room was full of monsters—the ones she’d heard about as a child, and with whom she’d be living and working now. There were creatures made of ice, one built almost entirely out of razor-sharp teeth, several fire spirits, some with fur or scales, or both…there was another, much taller skeleton, and…

Hm. She was good at making quick estimates, and there were barely a hundred monsters in the hall. Surely this couldn’t be all of them?

“So,” said the lord. With his free hand, he dug beneath his shirt and pulled out a pendant shaped like a miniature skull, elongated like a deerhound and sporting far too many fangs for Frisk’s taste. The skeleton raised the pendant to eye level: in an instant, Frisk sensed a shift in the atmosphere from mild disdain to wary, almost fearful anticipation. “Here she is,” proclaimed the lord of the castle. “Meet…Frisk.”

No one reacted, except for a few scoffs and an extremely half-hearted “Hurrah” from the back of the hall, more insulting than no response at all. Frisk hoped she wasn’t expected to introduce herself, or say literally anything else.

Luckily, the skeleton was already speaking again. “So,” he intoned, and as one, the monsters flinched. “First off, no one’s allowed to hurt her—directly, indirectly, on purpose, sort of on purpose, tricking her into it, trickin’ someone else into it, I don’t fucking care. Humans are weaklings, remember? If any of you assholes so much as breathes on ‘er too hard, I’m gonna take you apart mote by mote and burn yer dust in front’a everyone.”

Judging by the monsters’ shocked faces and low murmurs, this was quite the threat. The skeleton lord’s hand was holding hers a little more tightly—was he shaking? At the front of the crowd, the other skeleton had uncrossed his arms and seemed ready to—

“Second!” Everyone twitched. “You do what she says, when she says, unless I tell you different.” He paused, as if weighing his options. “No lyin’ to her. If she wants ta know somethin’, you gotta give ‘er a good answer.”

More murmurs of surprise and resentment. Frisk could feel little pulses through her contact with the skeleton—his pendant was doing something magic-related as he spoke. With a start, she remembered her father’s description of the skull that bit him and inflicted the curse of obedience; this must be the same thing, in a way that let him use it on every monster at once.

Regardless of how he was doing it, Frisk wished she understood why. He clearly did want her here, but how terrible could things be for him to go to these lengths for her? The first tiny prickling of unease began skittering around the back of her mind. What had her father been trying to tell her? Something he’d been hiding that would have destroyed her reputation among her family and friends, with worse duties than arranging parties and checking whether the maids were stealing anything …and the monster being a skeleton was relevant. What could possibly—

Someone had asked a question. “No, not yet,” the skeleton said, to groans of disappointment. “Party’s tomorrow. We’ll hold off for tonight and let her get settled.”

A loud, rude snort made everyone turn to the back of the crowd. “Well, ain’t that sweet?” It was a tall, armor-clad figure holding a faintly glowing spear. The voice was female, but almost as rough as the skeleton’s. “I know if I was her, I’d want you to hold off for tonight!”

The monsters erupted into jeering laughter. Frisk’s face burned as the implication sank in, and she gave the skeleton a disbelieving glance as that sense of disquiet prodded her again. What kind of party was he talking about? Would he really go to this much trouble to procure a normal housekeeper, much less protect her like this and celebrate her coming?

To her bemusement, the skeleton seemed as embarrassed as she was, and several times angrier. “Fuck off, Undyne!” His magic pulsed again so strongly that Frisk’s palm tingled. The woman in armor made a faint sound and staggered back against the wall. “If you’ve got time to say stupid shit, maybe it’s time you—”

“That’s enough,” said someone above them.

Frisk felt the air in the room shift again; this time, it felt like a classroom where the teacher had walked in and just looked at everyone. Every monster in the Great Hall – even Undyne – sank to one knee; the skeleton’s hands dropped to his sides as Frisk turned to watch another monster descend the staircase. “Tori,” he mumbled.

The white-furred monster glared at him. She resembled a giant goat, but seemed far more predatory, perhaps because of her golden eyes; they reminded Frisk too much of her uncle’s captive hawks, which always looked ready to eat someone. “How strange,” the goat-woman murmured. “I could have sworn that we’ve met before and you know how to properly address me.” Like magic, she was now smiling brilliantly at Frisk. “Welcome to our humble abode, my dearest girl. May I be the first to congratulate you on your conquest of Sans’ affections?”

The human’s polite smile was fixed in place, the one she used at parties when trapped in conversation with people she wasn’t allowed to run away from. “You certainly may, Lady…?”

“Toriel, my child. I am the former Queen of this place, now a silly old lady enjoying my twilight years in retirement.” The goat monster inclined her head, and suddenly raised her voice. “Thank you all for coming. I believe dinner should be ready soon?”

That was the monsters’ cue to scatter, no compulsion necessary. “Well,” said Toriel as the room emptied. Her smile twisted in utter contempt. “You seem surprised, my dear. Was Sans incompetent enough to allow your father to lie about your purpose here?”

The skeleton – Sans – gritted his teeth. Frisk would’ve felt sorry for him if…no, wait, she wouldn’t, ever. “Well,” she said, echoing Toriel, “when my father told everyone at my uncle’s house what happened, he said the monsters wanted someone to ‘perform the functions of a housekeeper.’ He never came out and said I’d be marrying anyone.” Frisk gave Sans as poisonous a look as she could, and his sockets went blank. It was unnerving, but she was too angry to care. “On the way up here, he tried to talk more about it, but then he had to leave.”

Toriel cackled, raising the hairs on the back of Frisk’s neck. “Of course he didn’t tell the rest of your family you’d be sharing your bed with a skeleton! You’d be the laughingstock of the village—no, the whole country!”

“Tori,” muttered Sans. Somehow, his entire skull was turning a dull crimson; he’d shrunk in on himself, looking much smaller and curiously vulnerable. Good.

The goat monster must have agreed; she smirked, and fully turned her back on him. “I hope you can understand your father’s intentions, my dear child,” Toriel said. Frisk would have given anything to make her stop smiling. “Parents tell these little fibs every so often to protect their children’s feelings.” She patted Frisk’s shoulder with a soft, heavy white paw. “I’m sure you’ll understand once you start having them.”

Frisk’s skin crawled—whether it was Toriel’s touch or the thought of that with Sans, she couldn’t say. Probably both. “I wish he had given me some forewarning, Lady Toriel, but I understand his reasons. He was also very sick when he reached the village, and likely still is, so we didn’t have many chances to talk privately.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Toriel murmured. “But it was to be expected after a night outside without food or drink, and then a walk down the mountain without provisions.”

“A what?” Frisk rounded on her would-be husband, who was sweating profusely. How the hell did—no, never mind. “You didn’t give him anything at all? And you made him sleep outside?” she demanded.

Sans’ eyes sparked red again. “He trespassed on my land and fucked up my garden! What was I s’posed ta do? Give ‘im a cookie and his own private room?”

“Anything but keep him outside like a dog!” Frisk was so angry that her eyes were filling with tears. She swiped them as discreetly as she could. “I am overtired, Lord Sans! May I be shown my room for the night? Or would you prefer I sleep in the garden?!”

“Fine!” he bellowed. For a horrible moment, Frisk thought he was really going to lock her outside—no, he was grabbing the pendant: “Panne! Lapis! Get your asses down here, now!”

“I’m afraid you have your work cut out for you, my child,” Toriel said kindly to Frisk, who was seething so hard that it took a moment to realize someone was speaking. “If you want any help, dear, you need only ask.”

“Thank you, Lady Toriel,” the human replied. “I’ve dealt with bullies before, but they usually don’t have magic on their side.”

Toriel cackled again as Sans’ eyes went blank. “Well said, my dearest Frisk! Very well said. Our lord is accustomed to getting what he wants, but a bit of reality may be what he needs.”

“Y’know what?” The skeleton’s voice was high and loud with indignation. “You’re right. Forget it. Fuckin’ forget about this whole thing! We’ll do the ceremony, make it so yer creepy-ass curse worked, an’ then she can go back to her dumbass family. How’s that sound?”

Frisk’s heart leapt…until Toriel gave a gentle sigh. “Yes, Lady Toriel?” the human asked warily.

“Yeah, what?” Sans snapped.

“Several things, children. For one, Sans, you already came crawling to me for help in getting Frisk’s father through the barrier—to be honest, I’m surprised we were able to do it at all. I absolutely do not have the resources left to move another human through the gates safely.”

Frisk could have cried, but as it turned out, that was the least of her problems: “And if you think you’ll be man and wife after a few words and a slice of cake, you’re sorely mistaken. A true marriage is built on time, trust, and communication.” Toriel nodded benignly. “And sex.”

“What?!” It came out in perfect tandem between the skeleton and human.

The goat monster didn’t bother to hide her glee. “I never said you’d find a wife in name only, you pathetic sack of bones! What are you thinking, trying to get rid of her? Why go to all the trouble of snaring such a lovely thing if you were just going to shoo her off? I’ve never seen you so excited, having your room prepared and planning what to eat for—”

“There they are,” Sans said sharply, looking and sounding ready for death as two rabbit monsters approached. “You! Get her fed, bath, sleep, whatever! I’m goin’ to bed, good night!”

Toriel’s grin was the most evil thing Frisk had ever seen. “Good night, my lord? It’s only—oh, dear. There he goes.” She examined the tips of her claws, and gave Frisk a look that made the human shudder. “Was it something I said?”

 ~

             “REALLY, BROTHER, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU EXPECTED.”

           Sans tried to think of something witty, but it was easier to bash his head against the wall some more. So—

           “WILL YOU KINDLY STOP THAT FOOLISH NOISE! IF IDIOCY COULD BE REMOVED THAT WAY, I WOULD GLADLY CRACK YOUR EXALTED SKULL OPEN. BUT NO, YOUR LORDSHIP’S STUPIDITY WOULD REMAIN INTACT NO MATTER WHAT MEASURES WERE TAKEN.”

           For the millionth time, Sans found himself reaching for his pendant, the key to the spell encompassing the castle and its grounds. All he had to do was concentrate on Papyrus and command him to shut up for ten goddamn minutes. His life would be easier, and quieter—

           —and complete shit, because Pap wouldn’t be his brother anymore. Sans rolled his skull sideways along his bedroom wall, glaring at the taller skeleton. “Get yer ass off my bed.”

           Papyrus snorted. “WHY? IT IS APPARENT THAT YOU WILL BE THE ONLY ONE USING IT FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.”

           “Oh, not you, too!” Sans grabbed a book at random from the shelf and chunked it at his brother, who easily caught it and tossed it to the floor. “What, you wanna be more like Undyne?”

           “PATHETIC AS SHE IS, IT WOULD STILL BE PREFERABLE TO OTHER PERSONS OF MY ACQUAINTANCE, BY WHICH I OF COURSE MEAN YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE TERRIBLE.” Papyrus did get up, though, and Sans tensed as his brother approached the mirror. “WHY DO YOU STILL KEEP THIS?” To Sans’ indignation, Pap took the ink drawing from where Sans had stuck it in the mirror’s frame, holding it up for a closer inspection. “SURELY, NOW THAT YOU HAVE CAPTURED THE HUMAN IT DEPICTS—”

           “Put it back,” Sans snapped.

           Papyrus tutted under his breath. “AS MY IDIOTIC LORD WISHES.” Unwilling to make a mess of any kind, the younger skeleton tucked the picture very gently back into the frame, smoothing down the creased edges. “IT WILL BE RUINED IF YOU DON’T STOP CARRYING IT EVERYWHERE.”

           “Yeah, I know,” the elder skeleton grumbled. He let the back of his skull thump into the wall again, earning another sharp look. “You can leave now.”

           Pap’s boots tapped impatiently on the stone floor. Several rolled-up rugs were stacked at the other end of the room, but Sans had made several excuses to leave them there, unable to admit his fear of picking something she didn’t like. Of course, now he would kill for that to be his biggest problem. “WILL YOU BE ALL RIGHT, BROTHER? SHALL I BRING THE MANUAL? THE SECTION ON WOOING A KIDNAPPED BRIDE IS PITIFULLY SHORT, BUT—”

           “I’m good, bro,” lied Sans. “Go to bed.”

           It wasn’t a command, and they both knew it. “I DIDN’T GET A CLOSE LOOK AT MY NEW SISTER,” Papyrus remarked. His gloved finger tapped the edge of the portrait. “IS THIS ACCURATE?”

           “No,” Sans said sharply. “Don’t touch it.”

           “HMPH!” Only Pap could make that a complete sentence. “I SEE. THE ARTIST SEEMS SKILLED ENOUGH, BUT IT MUST BE ANOTHER HUMAN LIE. IT IS A SHAME, BECAUSE THE FEMALE IN THIS PICTURE IS NOT NEARLY AS HIDEOUS AS MOST OF HER—”

           “Get the fuck outta my room!”

           Eventually, Papyrus complied, leaving Sans with only his stupid, stupid thoughts for company. There weren’t enough permutations of “fuuuuck” to express what he was feeling, so he settled on staring at the windows and letting his head hit the wall some more.

           He hadn’t lied to Papyrus. The picture wasn’t accurate: it didn’t show that her eyes were gray, or the way her nose scrunched when she was mad, or how her cheeks turned pink when he touched them. Looking at it always made him want to hold her, but it didn’t have her light, sweet scent or feel so damn soft that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to touch—

           Fuuuuuck. She was here, but this was still bullshit! He’d felt a twinge in the spell framework and realized that someone was trying to get around one of his orders – probably by a lie through omission – but how was he supposed to know it was Proust? He never expected that whinging, craven little shit would avoid telling Frisk she was going to be married. She hadn’t had time to get used to the idea, weigh the pros and cons, maybe move past him threatening to kill her daddy as leverage…

           Oh, who the hell was he kidding? Even if Sans had gone about this as honorably as he could, and even if she’d had a year to think it over, she never would have accepted him on her own. No matter what anyone said, he was still a monster, and she was still…

           His mind veered off yet again to when he’d followed her through the garden. He’d been so thrilled that she was really here, but so terrified that the ideal he’d built up from one picture would fall short of reality; maybe he’d made an ass of himself, getting everyone to clean stuff up and get things out and plan it all down to the second for someone who’d drawn herself to look better than she really was. Maybe her dad was just being a dad and he’d actually spoiled her rotten, letting her take the credit for some actual housekeeper’s work. Maybe she wasn’t really that nice. Maybe this was a mistake.

           So, faced with possible perfection, what did he do? He snuck up close enough to smell her, weirded her out, and then tried to play it off as a joke, which scared her even worse. And…

           No, the picture wasn’t accurate. He’d been so stunned that he just stood there like a complete moron, not apologizing or helping her up or introducing himself, because she was so beautiful that he forgot to breathe. Of course she got scared and mad at him, and he didn’t know how to handle it because he didn’t know how to handle anything, so he just acted like himself, and—

��          He was going to kill Toriel if it was the last goddamn thing he did!

           The wind was howling again. Sans wondered if it was keeping Frisk awake, assuming she could sleep at all after discovering she was going to marry him.

He looked at his bed, which had never had anyone but him in it, thank you, Papyrus—he’d enjoyed modest success in his sex life before that stupid fucking day with Asgore, but ever since, he found that being able to make people do anything he wanted was a massive turnoff. It felt creepy and pathetic and, well, wrong, even if he didn’t actually order anyone into the sack, or to do anything in it.

           Now that he was going to have an actual wife – who thought he was a bully, hated and feared him – would that be any better? Maybe if he courted her well enough, let her see that he’d loved her before they ever even met, refrained from using magic to change her mind…

           If that was the best he could do, then no, it wouldn’t be any better. Sans gave himself one last bang on the wall, kicked his boots off, and climbed onto the bed. “G’night,” he said out loud, and closed his sockets to wait for morning.