#but hey. at the end of the day it's all subjective and fluid. and that's cool!

[helianskies]

beautiful helia... I have a question for you, where do you think that Antonio was born?? In my head it makes sense that he's born in Sevilla ,I think that the reasons are obvious, but Tarragona as well, since it was an important city during the roman "colonisation" of iberia. What do you think?

anon if i could have it my way he'd be andaluz through and through. sevillano, cordobes, granadino, da igual. that's purely because of my personal affection for the south. but i think with the 'birth' of a nation, it largely depends on when you personally deem them to have been born in the first place.

you may... want to take a seat. have a drink. munch on a cookie 🍪 while i give you a nowhere-near straightforward answer, if even an answer at all...

happy birthday, toni! get cosy under the microscope! :D

so, i'll admit, i don't really worry too much about where nations were 'born'. it's never interested me in that way, and many of them probably wouldn't remember where they first popped into existence, so i don't know that they would be so bothered, either. and then you have a case like Antonio. Spain. where do you even begin...?

many people consider Antonio to have only come around in the 1400s with the formal unification of Castille and Aragon; others like myself enjoy seeing him as an ex-Roman province following in some questionable footsteps. i think both interpretations are perfectly valid* (and if there are any others, i'd be very intrigued!) but that naturally affects where you'd consider Antonio to have been born. if under Castille and Aragon, then... Toledo is a safe bet, i suppose. but the Romans? or even earlier? mmh...

(* also. can i add while i'm here. can we stop getting pissy when others don't agree with your own idea of a nation like Spain's 'age'? as i said here, people have different headcanons. if you don't agree, that's fine, but there's no need to be snotty about it or decide that everyone has to agree with you. because that's the point of a headcanon! just seen a fair bit of it lately and it's quite simply annoying!)

historically speaking, if we consider Portugal to have been (Hispania) Lusitania, then surely Spain would have started as (Hispania) Tarraconensis. all cool there. that would neatly place him in Tarragona, capital of Roman Hispania!... but then, prior to that, Lusitania was part of Hispania Ulterior (and not even called Lusitania, from what i gather) and Tarraconensis was made up of Hispania Citerior and other small provinces - so what about towns like Cartagena? Itálica? Mérida? Tarragona may be the oldest Roman city in Spain (as far as we know) but a personification doesn't necessarily have to have been born in a city... right?

moreover, prior to the Romans, Hispania was a melting pot of native tribes, Celts, Iberians, Celtiberians (ooh!), Carthaginians, etc. question is, if Antonio was around for the Romans, was he also there as a child amongst the Carthaginians? and where does mother Iberia, often depicted as the mother to both Spain and Portugal, come into it? and if she doesn't, then who would Antonio considers his parent(s) to be (if nations believe in having parents) let alone his birthplace?

it's confusing, isn't it? i can see the appeal of Antonio only coming into being in the 1400s for the ease alone.

truth be told, i don't know where would make most sense for Antonio to have been born. ni idea. like i said, andaluz Antonio gives me life and suits some aus, just like me making him galician every now and then, but in nationverse, when i consider my own preference that Antonio is already around when Rome shows up on his shores, even if only just, it only complicates matters.

consider this, however: he is, quite simply, a wilderness baby. a feral child. born up in the sierras, or in the middle of arid plains. like... most nations probably are. he was not born in a 'city' so much as just some random place in the area until he found his 'people', and that's as good as it gets. he could have come from anywhere, and i doubt he'd be able to pinpoint it himself beyond a vague gesture at the entire country.

still, if i had to give you a region, i'd say central-eastern Spain is where i'd place him. it's in the general area of what would have become Hispania Citerior and then Hispania Tarraconensis, which fits nicely with how i personally translate his character to that era. but i'd never be more specific than that. as far as i feel, many places in Spain have come to mean something to him, and his 'birthplace' is no more important to him than they are.

in conclusion: just go with your gut! i'm not here to validate anything or otherwise argue against your headcanons. he could be from Seville, he could be from Toledo, he could be from Tarragona - it only matters as much as you want it to matter. and that's all you should take away from this post!

hope that answers your question and hasn't been confusing in the least for you, beautiful anon! 💖

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 15

We are set to arrive on Fendaar in two cycles. As we are currently stuck on the SIIR Noxos, I have concluded that the passages of time that I am free of duties would be best spent continuing to observe the human. The human, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans in that matter, as it took me an unusually long amount of time to locate her.

As I eventually found her, she seemed to be working on one of the control panels in the main control room, so I may excuse her absence with duties she had to attend to. As she saw me, although, she seemed rather…excited (this is obviously mere speculation, as the study of the Terran so far has provided far too little evidence to prove such theories)?

As she rolled out from under the control board and sighted me, her face once again split into a wide opening revealing her horrifying amount of teeth.

"Hey! Dude!", she said, raising to her full height and stepping towards me, still baring her teeth, although I did not recoil, as I did not want to seem impolite. She raised her arms, each pointing into a different direction, away from their connection to the human's body.

"Human Quinn. How are you?"

"Me? I‘m fine, the whole 'wandering around in space' thing just made me throw up, I honestly don‘t know why they insisted on keeping me there for two whole days."

The ends of her fingers, studded with claw-like (rather short and rounded instead of sharp, perhaps they were not meant to function as claws at all, or perhaps the beings on Terra were far different from what I knew, and therefore a shape like this was far more useful to hunt) protuberances, scraped over the back of the connection between her head and her upper body. If I interpreted her facial expression correctly, she seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe I got a light concussion too, I’m not entirely sure. But it's improbable, because I’m fine now."

I decided to focus on one piece of information at a time. "Well, this "throwing up" can certainly not be a healthy nor normal process, otherwise, it would not seem so violently painful and involuntary, would it?"

"Well it‘s not…unnatural, it‘s just something that can happen. And about health, it‘s not unhealthy, it usually helps us to get rid of stuff that is bad for our bodies!", she eludicated, moving one of her arms in a rather random manner.

"The scientists have concluded that this fluid is highly acidic. If this 'stuff' is so harmful to you, wouldn‘t it just dissolve in this fluid before being able to cause any further harm?"

Quinn seemed to think about that. 

"Well, just because it gets dissolved, doesn‘t mean it‘s gone, you know? It's still in our bodies, and we have to get rid of it somehow. And if it needs to be fast, we throw up. Honestly, I‘d definitely explain this further to you, but Biology‘s never really been my strongest subject, ya know what I mean?"

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I decided against questioning her further.

After a pause the Terran spoke up again: "So, this planet we're landing on..." "Fendaar.", I clarified. "Right. So, this planet that we‘re going to, it‘s a desert, right?" "That is correct." "So, is it a sand, an ice or, I guess you could also count rock desert? 'Cuz on my planet, we‘ve got all of those types."

"Fendaar‘s ecosystem is mostly made up out of sandlike landscapes with rather scarce vegetation and biodiversity. Most of the planets in system 36-54 have rather extreme temperature ranges, and Fendaar is no exception.", I eludicated.

"Alright, cool.", she spoke, rolling back under the underside of the control panel she had been working on previously. She seemed to be sitting, or rather lying, on a piece of metal with four small wheels attached to it, allowing her to move it around.

"Your planet.", I initiated. 

"Yeah?", she responded, while continuing her work on the wiring.

"Am I assuming correctly that your planet has a far bigger biodiversity?"

"Oh, yeah.", there was a small spring in her voice, as if she had let out air in the middle of speaking. "Big biodiversity. We‘ve got deserts and rainforests, coral reefs and permafrost - although perhaps not for that long anymore - mountain ranges and all that stuff."

"Interesting.", I supplied, for lack of a better response. If Terra had such differences in temperature and landscapes, it was a logical conclusion that the humans had evolved to survive under such circumstances.

"Yeah."

It was unusually quiet for some time. That was, until Quinn rolled out from the underside of the control panels.

"Alright, I‘m done." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth once again. Then, all of a sudden, the muscles of her face started contracting as if she was plagued by an invisible pain. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out horrifying noise, holding an arm angled in front of her nose and mouth. The noise itself was not particularly loud or long, but I recoiled either way, as a measure of safety. I could not be certain if this gesture was meant to harm me, after all.

Quinn‘s arm sank down again as her other hand rubbed at her nose. She huffed, a sound far less threatening than the one she had produced a moment ago. One of the hair patches above her visual organs raised itself, prompting the question to arise if human hair was controlled by muscles or if it had a mind of its own, although this was a question that could be further investigated later. One of the corners of her mouth raised, revealing the seemingly sharpest teeth in her mouth.

"I guess dust is an inter-galactic thing, huh?"

I did not respond. Her face muscles contracted, causing the skin above her visual organs to crease.

"Hey, you okay? You‘re looking a little spooked over there."

"Human, I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but, if I may ask, what was the purpose of the noise you just uttered?"

She did not respond for a moment, blinking with both of her eyes as she stared at me. It was quite unsettling, considering her previous explanation, that most humans preferred not being stared at. 

"I…sneezed?" The creases in the skin above her eyes deepened.

My front pliers uttered another rattling sound. "What is this 'sneezing'? What purpose does it serve?" I admit, I was quite curious. Terrans seemed much more complex than I had previously assumed.

She paused, seemingly to think of an answer. "Well, it‘s like…if something is bothering us at or in out nose, like dust, for example, it‘s kind of the natural response to that. To keep things out of our bodies that don‘t belong there."

"Human bodies seem to require a lot of defense mechanisms.", I commented.

She raised and lowered the connection of her arms to her upper body, baring her teeth once again while raising herself to her full height, using one of her arms as support.

"Y’know, it’s surprisingly hard to explain something you’re so used to to someone who’s never heard of it. I guess I still have to work on the whole 'awareness that I‘m around aliens' thing. S‘ kind of surreal."

She patted off her clothing, as if to remove non-existent filth once again. I had noticed the past few cycles that most of her clothing seemed to consist of several, usually differently-coloured, pieces of fabric. 

Her clothes usually covered her body from the connection between her arms and torso to the connection between her legs and, presumably, her feet. Her feet were usually also covered, although I could not determine the purpose it was supposed to serve in the environment we are currently in, although the theory that the conditions on Earth are vastly different compared to the ones on the SIIR Noxos is gaining more probability, based on the Terran's narrations.

The human seemed to evaluate a question she wanted to ask (this is, of course, a mere speculation based on previous observations: her face muscles were contracted to form a crease over her visual organs, which could so far most likely be interpreted as confusion, thoughtfulness or discomfort; her head was both slightly raised and tilted to one side at the same time, a gesture that was most likely supposed to convey an ongoing thought process).

Although, before she could utter a noise, V-7 informed us of a request from the Vitrichl to gather for a matter of importance.

The purpose of his summoning was to divide the crew into several smaller groups that were to be assigned with different tasks to fulfill once we sucessfully landed on Fendaar.

I was grouped with the Terran, which was unsurprising, as well as Tkzt, a member of the species that is widely known across the galaxies as Ctzas (it is to note that the Ctzas have not evolved any form of written language and communicate exclusively through clicking and chittering sounds. The written forms of, for example, names of this species, are written by other species to produce approximately the same sound as the Ctzas make when recited verbally).

Tkzt, as a member of the unit controlling supply chains and keeping a list of the stock of the SIIR Noxos, would make a helpful addition in our task of seeking out the nearest settlement in order to stock up on supplies.

After all matters of importance were settled, the crew dissipated, continuing their respective tasks. The Terran was ordered to stay and to assist the Vitrichl in another matter, which is the reason I did not cross paths with the human again for the rest of this cycle.

Despite this, I am positive that accompanying the human on an foreign planet will give me a further insight into the species' mannerisms and interaction manners with foreign species, which will prove to be helpful further on in studying the human.

[eiraeths]

y’all know janitor from scrubs? he gives me ghost vibes. if y’all don’t know who janitor is just know this: he’s a pathological liar (but it’s over minor things for his own entertainment) and two he actively tries to make the main character of scrubs, JD, life harder over a small little incident. dude can hold a grudge.

anyway here’s a bunch of janitor quotes from scrubs except replacing it with ghost being janitor and soap is JD because it honestly made so much sense in my head. I also think a lot of dr cox quotes fit price or ghost so some of those too. actually price could also be dr kelso in a lot of this good lawd.

———

Ghost: [mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: [silently] What?

Ghost: [gestures and mouths] I'm going to kill you.

Soap: Why?

Ghost: [shrugs]

———

Price: Look, you and I are alike in a lot of ways.

Ghost: We both harbor an internal struggle between the desire to do good, and the urge to become a master criminal.

Price: We don't.

Ghost: We do.

Price: You hate people, and I hate people. What nobody gets is that we never hate indiscriminately.

Ghost: That is so true. I only hate those that have wronged me. Like if they stole my stuff, or put a penny in a door. Or... that guy. See this look he shot us, like he's so much better than we are.

Price: Plus, he's only 25, and earlier I heard him use the phrase "Back in the day".

Ghost: Well, he's dug his own grave, hasn't he? Let's do this.

———

Soap: Did you lose something?

Ghost: No, why? Did you take something?

Soap: No.

Ghost: What'd you take?

Soap: Nothing.

Ghost: What'd you take?

———

[Soap walks out of the elevator as Ghost mops the floor]

Ghost : Hey!

Soap: What? I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. What imaginary slight have you concocted in that paranoid brain of yours?

[Ghost looks down to the trail of muddy footprints trailing Soap]

Soap: [internally] Crap.

Soap: Well, shouldn't there be some sort of sign... Oh, look at that. Well, you should put it back down before someone slips and falls.

Ghost: Oh, is that what I should do? Good, because I make most decisions based on your opinion. You know what, I'm thinking of splitting up with the wife. Maybe you could mull that over, get back to me, maybe pow-wow. [a woman slips] Floor's wet, ma'am. Little help over here. Little help.

———

Gaz: Cap’n, what's our plan of attack?

Price: When I crush a person's spirit, I like to use a combination of intimidation and degradation.

Soap: I prefer to create an environment in which the subjects end up crushing themselves.

Price: Uh-huh.

Ghost: I like to pick one person and torment them relentlessly for no reason. If I could find them I'd show you.

[poor rookie of the day walks up behind Ghost and wisely decides to back away]

Ghost: He's near.

———

[Ghost sprays a window with blue cleaning fluid and wipes it. He then aims the spray in his mouth. Price takes a second look as he passes by.]

Ghost: I filled it with blue Gatorade. I just do that to freak people out.

Price: Scintillating

———

[As a boy plays with a toy car in his bed, he accidentally knocks over his juice carton]

A Boy: Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!

Gaz: Hey, it's okay.

A Boy: But now the Ghost Who Hates Spills is gonna come.

Gaz: Who?

Ghost: You're right, boy. He might come this very night. And as you know, that ghost's entire family was killed by a careless spill. Just like yours. Just like yours. Hmm.

———

Gaz: Oh, hi. Are we going out? What's with the jumpsuit?

Ghost: Okay, first of all if we're gonna make it, not a jumpsuit. Shirt, belt, pants.

Gaz: Oh. Ok.

Ghost: Secondly, I think it's time that you knew the real me. All right, here we go. I'm not like normal people. I don't have superpowers, but I'm working on it. For instance, watch me move this pen. [looks at pen, which doesn't move] It worked at home. I don't know. Maybe my table is slanted. Um, anyway, in my spare time, I also enjoy stuffing animals. Usually with other animals. For instance, a badger will hold five squirrels. A squirrel will hold most of a cat. A mouse will hold a shrew and a vole. You get the idea. Circle of life. I have broken the sound barrier, but you must never ask me how. I don't believe in the moon. I think it's just the back of the sun.

Price: Ha! I love a good train wreck.

Ghost: Furthermore, I think if you look closely a monkey-

Soap: Stop it, you. he doesn't know you're joking.

———

Ghost: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa. Watch your step, there, Gaz.

Gaz: Thanks, Ghost.

Gaz: [internally] He is so sweet. But why doesn't he just put up a sign that says "wet floor"?

[Soap screams as he slides across the floor and crashes]

Ghost: Wet floor.

———

Soap: [gasps] Why do you have to jump out and scare me all the time?

Ghost: I don't jump out and scare you. I follow you around all day. I only got about an hour-and-a-half worth of work around here, and the rest of the time, I track you, like an animal.

Soap: You're kidding, right?

Ghost: [chuckles] I don't know. Am I?

———

Soap: Holy-

Ghost: [whispering] Calm down. I didn't mean to scare you.

Soap: [whispering] Why are we whispering?

Ghost: [whispering] I wanted to see if you would whisper because I whispered.

Soap: [whispering] I think I would.

———

Ghost: I convinced everybody in on base that's afraid of me to go outside and spell out the score of the game.

Price: Really?

Ghost: No, you idiot. I'm just gonna tell you the score of the game. Maybe knock your head against the glass.

Price: Look, I was way out of line telling you how that movie ended, but, God save me, watching sports is one of the last pure pleasures I have left in my life, so you tell me what's it gonna take for you to let me go home, sit in my massage chair, and enjoy the game?

Ghost: I would like to perform open heart surgery.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about you perform surgery on me so that I can breathe underwater?

Price: No.

Ghost: I would like a shark that read minds.

Price: No.

Ghost: You and I trade lives for a year.

Price: No.

Ghost: How about a home-cooked meal and an hour in your massage chair?

Price: Done.

Ghost: Done.

[Ghost walks over to the window and looks outside, where a large group of rookies have arranged themselves to spell out "98-97"]

Ghost: Hey, guys, it's off.

[He looks again and they have rearranged themselves to read "Why"]

Ghost: Wow! You guys are organised.

———

Ghost: Look, if I learnt one thing from my parents, it's this. The key to a good marriage is keeping your emotions bottled up until they finally explode and you have to lash out physically.

Soap: You mean, beat each other up?

Ghost: I mean beat yourself up. My mother once snapped her own index finger because my father was late for church. She dented the car, he threw himself down the stairs.

———

Gaz: Soap, you're not that self-destructive.

Ghost: Really? I was gonna suggest he seek professional help. Would you be interested in seeing a cognitive therapist? 'cause I know a guy, he's good. I'm going to give you his card, then I'm gonna bash your head in. I'll see you in the morning.

Soap: I'm in at 7.

Ghost: Wear a helmet.

———

okay that’s it

[fallenrocket]

I find it so interesting that in "The Church on Ruby Road," both the Doctor and Ruby are struggling with a lack of known blood family, despite being rich in thicker-than-blood family.

The Doctor looks at all the photos on Clara's fridge, delighting in the faces of all the children she's fostered over the years. "You have got the biggest family in the world," he tells Ruby. Echoes of Sarah Jane in "Journey's End"--Look at you. You've got the biggest family on Earth.

But moments later, when Ruby asks the Doctor about his family, he mumbles, "I've got no one," and quickly changes the subject.

Ruby is the same way. She's just as excited as Clara when she finds out about Lulubelle coming for Christmas, and she basks in Clara's love when she says, "You absolutely made my life." But in between the photos on the fridge and Clara's doting, Ruby is still reeling from the news that Davina couldn't find any trace of her biological parents.

And hey, I get it. For both of them, their origins are a big question mark. Ruby just got freshly slapped with a reminder that her biological parents seem to have vanished into thin air, and the Doctor only recently learned that they have whole lifetimes' worth of memories that have been taken from them. It makes sense that they'd be dwelling on it.

There's no question that Ruby loves Clara, Cherry, and the kids who've come and gone over the years, just like there's no question that the Doctor loves their companions. But that unknown hanging over their heads is hard to reconcile, and they can wonder about their lost blood family without loving their thicker-than-blood family any less.

I love that Ruby grew up in a home full of foster kids, and I love how it relates to the Doctor and their companions. I feel it in his eyes as he looks down at Lulu and listens to Clara talking about her kids: "I've got photos. Have a look on the fridge. They're all there. I had some of them for days, some for weeks, some for years. Only one of them stayed."

I know he brings up being adopted right after that, but in that moment, is the Doctor seeing all the people who've moved through his life but are no less precious for not having stayed? I had some of them for days, some for weeks, some for years. Is he thinking about Ian and Barbara, about Jamie and Romana and Bill? Ruby's words from earlier--She still keeps in touch with some of them. Is he thinking about Sarah Jane and Mel and Martha? Only one of them stayed. Is he thinking about when they stayed, about the years Fourteen spent with Donna and her family?

The type of family the Doctor and Ruby are looking for is the type you possess. Incontrovertible--it's there in your DNA, whether they're standing in front of you or not. But the family they have is the type that can't be owned. It's fluid, and they come in and out but always leave their mark, even if it's just for a few days. Even if it ends badly, even if it hurts to bring them up years later, every one of them is still worth it and life is still better because, for a time, they were in it. Wherever Ruby and the Doctor's longing for blood family might take them, their thicker-than-blood family can't be taken away, because it can't be held in the first place.

[aftgficrec]

Hey! I love your page and getting fic recs! Do you have any fics where Neil goes or agrees to go to therapy? I’m good with Bee or someone else as the therapist too. It can be canon or an au. Thanks so much! :))

I was pleasantly surprised by how much we found for you! -A

previous recs:

‘another life to live’ here

‘Oakland’ here (completed)

‘you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)’ here (updated)

‘If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues)’ here (updated)

‘Interlaced’ here (updated)

‘Regrowth,’ ‘To Be Close With You Is To Be Close With Myself,’ ‘I took a breath and took the knife,’ and ‘flashes of intimacy’ ch 4 here

‘call me in the afternoon’ here

‘The Wild Fox Den’ and ‘Roses Grow Between Bone’ here

‘(My Heart) Pierced By a Pin’ here (completed)

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

‘day by day’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘Ain’t it fun’ here

‘Breathe, idiot’ here

‘Healing’ series part 1 here, part 3 here (completed)

‘The Fear of Being Known’ here

‘That one party’ series and ‘keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ here

‘Affection can be shown in so many ways’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here 

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Tenuous’ here

‘There is Nothing You Can Say’ here (completed)

‘of ice blue eyes & twisted veins’ here

‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here

‘Bad Apple’ here 

‘Phantom Pains’ here

‘Therapy’ here

‘Birds of a Feather’ here (updated)

‘In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out.’ here 

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘I Wanna Get Better’ here 

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 6 & 8 here

and more:

‘Ember’ here (completed)

‘leave the room (with a little dignity)’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Blame It On My Youth’ here (updated)

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ (here)

‘Our body’ series, part 1 here, part 3 here, part 5 here

‘and all the roads will disappear’ here

‘crossed out’ here

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘i had a dream (where you couldn't hear me screaming)’ and ‘hold me close, in fact bury me’ here 

‘Just closed eyes with nothing behind’ here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘SCAR TISSUE’ here

‘Lighter Fluid’ here

you may also like:

‘The Sound’ here

historians by cielalune [Rated M, 21508 Words, Complete, 2023]

He remembers when she didn’t smell of ash, but perfume. The times they’d play the radio to fill the quiet of the car, and she’d hum along. How she never missed a single exy practice, and cheered for him each time. She wasn’t all too different from Cass in the end. Just because she was dead didn’t mean she was buried. Five times Neil tries to come to closure about the person Mary Hatford was, and the one time he accepts who she came to be.

tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: heavily referenced rape/noncon, tw: heavily referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: sleep paralysis, tw: depressive episode, tw: flashbacks with blood & gore, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: victim blaming

Mommy Dearest by chronically_peach [Rated G, 915 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil doesn’t talk about his mother much but Andrew knows it’s a touchy subject for the redhead. After a session with Betsy Neil admits he’s been thinking about his mother and allows Andrew a glimpse into who Mary Hatford really was.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Pain of a Forgotten Face series by Rose_vine [Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2021]

Part 1: Pain of a Forgotten Face [M, 3086 Words] Neil Josten is awoken by a face in his nightmares from twelve years ago, a face he barely remembers. When he tries to brush it off and go to practice, he realizes too late that some memories refuse to let themselves be forgotten.

tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: hallucinations, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: blood/gore

Part 2: A Hand to Hold Me Back From The Cliff [Not Rated, 2132 Words] After Neil collapses on the court from a flashback from when he was younger, Andrew convinces him to go to therapy. This is his first session with Bee, and it is only Andrew at his side that gives him the strength to walk through the door.

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

After the Beep by kanekei [Rated T, 1030 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2023]

Neil works through his relationship with his dead mother by leaving her voice messages that she'll never hear. It’s healthy, Bee says. He can’t help but think having the Minyards as patients has skewed her perception of what that word means. The number you have reached is not available. Please leave your message after the beep.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced violence

The Foxes by akaashisramen [Not Rated, 3386 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2023]

Trans Neil is on the run from his father and goes to his uncles house. His uncle promises him protection and allows him to play Exy as long as he goes to group therapy to process his mothers death.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced torture

someday, we'll grow by nopunintended [Rated G, 2078 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew and Neil see Betsy for a couple's therapy session per Andrew's request.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Couples Therapy by P0tatonoah [Rated T, 2014 Words, Complete 2020]

I got a lot of comments (like 3 or 4) on my breakup fic asking for a part 2 where Neil and Andrew patch things up and live happily ever after… This is not it. But you can read it as an alternative ending if you want. 

tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual touch, tw: implied/referenced violence

NB: find P0tatonoah’s andreil break up fic ‘Home...?’ here

They sicken of the calm, they who know the storm by EdgySpaghetti [Not Rated, 3162 Words, Complete, 2023]

After storm there always comes the sun. People born into the storm, who growing up sees only black clouds and lightnings striking everywhere, just learn how to live with it, how to protect themselves from cold, wind and rain. They recognize the pattern, know that lightning will struck sooner or later and are prepared for it. What are those people to do when there is no more dark clouds? They don't know how to live in this environment, how to dress to not get too hot and how to prevent potential sunburnt. They never had to do that before. They're still expecting the lightnings.

tw: ptsd, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: anger issues

Can I finally stop running now? by gracefromspace [Rated T, 12110 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil is intrigued by a blonde baker with piercings, two therapy cats and strong arms.

tw: heavily referenced torture, tw: flashbacks with blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: negative self image

can't blame it on my youth by PoolToast22 [Rated G, 2650 Words, Complete, 2022]

The one where Neil Josten is Fine TM. But he's also in therapy. And today Bee decided to ask him that question.

hold on to happiness by minyarday [Rated T, 551 Words, Complete, 2020]

"self esteem had never been something Neil cared about. when you are a runaway that don't even have a place to call home, you learn to prioritize certain things and forget others" only that now he has the time to think about it

I'll Come Back To You by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 6900 Words, Complete, 2022]

Some of the things he’s learned today feel like stories about someone else: Neil switched to playing striker at a tiny high school in Arizona. Aaron lives in Chicago with his wife. Andrew’s cousin calls Neil every Tuesday, because Andrew is too stubborn to pick up the phone himself. But other things are clear truths, even if they’re more abstract: Neil’s mother died. Andrew is safe. Neil was supposed to stay, but part of him is gone. - - - - It's about dreams, reality, trust, patience, and determination. It's about making promises and keeping them. You'll figure out the rest.

tw: car accidents, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced violence

I will help you swim by unojonex [Rated E, 11699 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2022]

He’s slowed down, stayed in one place for more than a few months and it's all caught up with him. In his sleep, ghosts of his past haunt him. And they have no mercy. Dreams and imagination swirl together in a confusing mix of nightmares that don't go away, even when he's awake. -- basically Neil and Andrew getting together while also dealing with a lot of trauma

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/refererenced torture, tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: suicide ideation, tw: graphic nightmares with blood/gore, tw: dissociation, tw: hallucinations, tw: panic attacks

But Touch My Tears with Your Lips by transjorts [Rated M, 4070 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

Andrew is sitting across from him, expression neutral, fork in hand. He’d dragged the tinnes across the plate—purposefully, if Neil had to guess. Andrew has already cut the burrito up into tiny pieces and spears one morsel on the fork, lifting it to his mouth. “Hi,” Neil says. Andrew chews, very deliberately. “Do you feel better?” Neil frowns. “What?” Andrew eats another bite. “Did all that running make you feel better?” Neil sighs and glances down, noticing that his water has been refilled. He takes a sip. “No.”

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault, tw: nightmares, tw: dissociation

let's just sit awhile by artiest [Rated M, 17291 Words, Complete. 2022, Locked]

Neil and Andrew don't have to keep fighting for their survival. They can settle now. It's hard, but they're trying. OR: During Neil's second year in Palmetto State, him and Andrew learn to take care of each other.

tw: severe mental health issues, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: nightmares with blood/gore, tw: flashbacks,  tw: dissociation, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol abuse/alcholism

I could never give you peace by freshtaylorswiftduck [Rated T, 3407 Words, Complete. 2022]

Neil has both bad and good days. Today is a bad day.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks

10 tips to stress less, without the tips by lumos_max [Rated T, 5404 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

A lonely Neil lets his therapist bully him into checking out the clinic's support group without too much fuss, but little did he know he wouldn't be checking out the group that day, instead meeting a dramatic hunk of a man who drives a fancy car and forgets to wipe the cream off the corner of his lip. It's only fair that Neil tries to do it for him, right?

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

“God, I have my father’s eyes.” by perks_of_being_a_writer [Rated T, 673 Words, Complete, 2022]

This is based on Family Line by Conan Gray. In this short story, Neil is at a therapy appointment where he and Betsy dive into his parental issues. This covers Neil’s abuse from both parents (because, yes, Mary was abusive and a bad mother). This is Neil learning that it's not his fault his parents hurt him and accepting that he is loved.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

"There's blood on my/your hands." by markonasurface (idwir) [Rated T, 4667 Words, Complete, 2018]

The year after his 19th birthday, the other team decides to recreate the bloody locker scene complete with a ‘Happy Birthday, Jr.’ Instead of stuffing everything down, Neil has a complete freak out and sinks into a depression.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: ptsd, tw: major depressive episode, tw: homophobia, tw: disordered eating, tw: vomit

Nothing is Safe series by hismiley16 [Rated T/M/E, Collection, 7 complete works, Updated July 2023]

Parts 3 and 7 recced here

Part 4: Written On His Skin [Not Rated, 11344 Words] The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

The Josten Anxiety Method by orphan_account [Rated M, 1721 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil talks to Bee about his anxiety.

tw: anxiety, tw: hallucinations, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Looking in the Mirror Never Felt so Good by Trimorphia [Rated T, 8693 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten's journey to becoming a real person.

tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Achilles Come Down by infernalstars [Rated M, 5017 Words, Complete, 2020]

Neil Josten was a liar before he was anything else. In the nest, sometimes his choices were between lying and dying. He’d had a decent amount of self preservation that he’d chosen the former. But now, being free, the world felt so heavy. He wished he’d chosen dying.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: eating disorders focus, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: vomit, tw: depression 

prompt: Neil x therapy bullet fic by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

[roxannarambles]

title: second chances (chapter five)

ship: goldenlight (luz x hunter)

notes: takes place sometime after ‘reaching out’ but before ‘hollow mind.’ (set in my standard canon-divergent AU where everything’s the same except no L*mity)

other chapters: chapter one chapter two  chapter three  chapter four

The next day, it seemed that Hunter’s lunch break had rarely coincided with a reasonable hour for lunchtime, because Luz sent him a photo of what she was eating that day. (It appeared to be a mud grub sandwich, which she didn’t look especially thrilled about eating.) He sent back a photo of his cafeteria food. She responded with some emoji.

Luzura_Warrior:

... 🤢🤢🤢

Rulerzreachf4n:

what do those even mean

Luzura_Warrior:

whatdo you mean? theyre sick faces

Luzura_Warrior:

can't you tell? they're green

Rulerzreachf4n:

why does green mean they're sick?

Rulerzreachf4n:

the only thing I think of that turns you colors when you're sick is the rainbow fever but that's all the colors

Luzura_Warrior:

no it. it's metaphorical, not literal.although. rainbow fever sounds kinda fun ngl

Rulerzreachf4n:

it's not, trust me. you spend most of your time violently expelling fluids from both ends

Rulerzreachf4n:

the fluids are also rainbow colored

Luzura_Warrior:

okay, yeah, nevermind, I don't wanna catch that.

Rulerzreachf4n:

yeah.

Rulerzreachf4n:

what's this one mean by the way? 🥺 I see it sometimes

Luzura_Warrior:

that's supposed to be puppydog eyes, you know, when you're begging somebody for something

Luzura_Warrior:

pleeeeease hunter come visit me sometime so we can make pancakes 🥺🥺

Luzura_Warrior:

like that!

Rulerzreachf4n:

oh

Luzura_Warrior:

I promise my real puppydog eyes are way more effective then the emoji, though

Hunter began to type a reply out, feeling unsure of what exactly to say, but another message came through before he could finish.

Luzura_Warrior:

any other emojis you want me to translate?

Ah. All right. That subject was a little easier to deal with. He scrolled through the list of little faces.

Rulerzreachf4n:

what about this? 😑

Luzura_Warrior:

uhh . . . hm. I dunno I never use that one, I guess it's like ... dead?

Luzura_Warrior:

oh wait, I think I've seen some people use it to mean annoyed. like really fed up with something.

Rulerzreachf4n:

ok. I guess that makes sense.

Rulerzreachf4n:

what about this one? 😤

Luzura_Warrior:

that one's like 'determined.' stubborn.

Luzura_Warrior:

oh but it also can mean really angry. depends on the situation.

Rulerzreachf4n:

oh, I was way off, I thought it was maybe a sneeze?

Luzura_Warrior:

lolol no this is the sneeze emoji 🤧

Rulerzreachf4n:

... 🤔

Luzura_Warrior:

that's for when you're thinking

Rulerzreachf4n:

... 🧐

Luzura_Warrior:

that's for when you're thinking but you're also FANCY

Rulerzreachf4n:

okay there are WAY too many of these

Luzura_Warrior:

lol, don't worry, you'll learn them eventually

Rulerzreachf4n:

I'm not so sure. I feel like this is an entire language.

Rulerzreachf4n:

and like what even is this one??? 🥴

Luzura_Warrior:

I...have no idea actually. I never understood that one.

Luzura_Warrior:

I guess it's . . . uhhh . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

god I don't have a clue. let's invent a new emotion for it

Rulerzreachf4n:

what

Luzura_Warrior:

hey hunter, just finished my lunch and I'm feeling so snorflimppet 🥴

Luzura_Warrior:

you know TFW you're hella gasterplastecked 🥴

Rulerzreachf4n:

no.

Rulerzreachf4n:

stop.

Luzura_Warrior:

yknow we should teach you about memes too if you're gonna be on penstagram

Rulerzreachf4n:

oh, yeah. willow and gus have shown me a few of those. I think I saved one. hold on . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

I . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

I've become a MEME??

Rulerzreachf4n:

is that . . . bad?

Rulerzreachf4n:

I thought it was a good thing

Luzura_Warrior:

it's . . .uhh well I don't know if I'd call it good or bad, really, it's just . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

hmm, honestly I'm not sure how to feel about it. guess I feel 🥴🥴

Rulerzreachf4n:

well if you don't like it, I can delete it

Luzura_Warrior:

nah, it's fine, no need

Luzura_Warrior:

tbh it's kinda neat.

Luzura_Warrior:

so the meme you have saved to your scroll was the one that had me in it . . . interesting 😏

What was that one? They hadn't discussed that emoji yet. This texting thing was stressful sometimes.

Rulerzreachf4n:

I saved it because it was about flyer derby

Rulerzreachf4n:

it just happened to have you in it

Luzura_Warrior:

mmm ok. if you say so.

Luzura_Warrior:

oh hey, before I forget, you wanna help me start a new meme on penstagram?

Rulerzreachf4n:

how?

Luzura_Warrior:

it's easy! just choose a basic format first . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

like, say, mmm, the old bait-n-switch . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

choose a video . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

and voila!

A link popped up. Hunter followed it to see it led to Luz's Penstagram page, to her newest public post. 

You know, it’s not often that I’m impressed by speeches, but the statements that one of the Coven’s top officials has recently released are really worth checking out. Find it here:

It was a link that led away from Penstagram. When Hunter clicked on it, it brought him to the video of Kikimora falling flat on her face and then wriggling around to dance music. Hunter had already seen this video many, many times, but he laughed again anyway.

Rulerzreachf4n:

ok, if that’s how you make a meme, then I’m a fan

Luzura_Warrior:

great! so all you need to do is post something on your penstagram that claims you’re linking a particular thing . . . but link to this video instead

Rulerzreachf4n:

that’s honestly kind of childish

He paused on his Penstagram page, thinking about it.

Rulerzreachf4n:

…but, she acts very childish anyway, so turnabout’s fair play

Luzura_Warrior:

haha, there ya go.

 Late afternoon, Hunter was in the middle of his usual patrol through Bonesborough, keeping an eye out for troublemakers or any civil unrest. It was a very slow day, though, and hardly anyone was around. He’d gone out to one of the massive demonic appendanges that existed in the town (this one was called ‘Dead Hand’ because it was unusually still compared to the other, twitchier hands). There had been a minor complaint lodged that somebody was trying to paint graffiti on the huge, scaly hand. When he got there, though, he found it was just a couple of kids that looked hardly older than toddlers, and they didn’t even know how to operate a spray paint can. He chased the kids away and then was left standing there in the silent streets of Bonesborough, sighing. Sometimes he felt like most of the duties he did for the Coven was just busywork.

Pulling out his scroll, he logged onto Penstagram and scrolled idly. Luz had ‘shared’ his Kikimora meme post and so it had a fair number of ‘likes’ and a few replies. This kept him amused for a few minutes, but eventually he grew bored. 

His scroll buzzed with a new message.

Luzura_Warrior:

look at themmmmm 😍

A picture was included, and it had King curled up on the couch, with the Owl Lady’s palisman snuggled into his fur, both fast asleep.

Rulerzreachf4n:

nice

Rulerzreachf4n:

this is what I’m doing

He pointed the scroll at the Dead Hand and took a photo to send to Luz.

Luzura_Warrior:

on patrol? cool, I’ve never actually gotten that close to that thing before

Luzura_Warrior:

eda, uh, told me they grab people sometimes, so I’m a little careful

Rulerzreachf4n:

they can sometimes but only when they’re cranky. dead hand doesn’t though, it’s very docile.

Luzura_Warrior:

huh. good to know!

Luzura_Warrior:

hey, I have a question, how come you never send any selfies? I don’t think I’ve seen a single one from you yet

Luzura_Warrior:

you even changed your pfp, it used to be you and now it’s flapjack. 

Luzura_Warrior:

obviously I ADORE flapjack but, well. I dunno, I guess I’m just curious if there’s a reason

Luzura_Warrior:

sorry if that’s prying too much

He thought about when he first made his Penstagram account and all the time he spent trying to get a photo to use for his profile. He probably spent over an hour doing it, only to later decide it looked awful anyway and took it down.

Rulerzreachf4n:

not sure if there’s really a reason

Rulerzreachf4n:

I just don’t feel the desire to, I guess.

Rulerzreachf4n:

I..don’t really like how I look.

Luzura_Warrior:

wait, really? 

He hesitated as he read her message, but she didn’t seem to be teasing him. He decided to take a chance and tell her the truth.

Rulerzreachf4n:

yeah. that’s part of why I like my mask. better to cover it up when people would rather not see it anyway, you know?

He waited as the dots on the scroll indicated Luz was typing.

Luzura_Warrior:

okay, so, I guess it kind of makes sense you wouldn’t realize this, since you probably don’t talk to a lot of people. 

He frowned, confused.

Rulerzreachf4n:

realize what?

Luzura_Warrior:

that you’re actually really cute

He froze, his heart leaping at the blunt reply. Staring at the message in shock, he tried to make sense of it. What? She really thought-- she--

Wait, no. That couldn’t be right. His skepticism returning fast, he typed,

Rulerzreachf4n:

that’s not a nice thing to joke about

At the same moment he’d entered that text,  Luz entered one as well;

Luzura_Warrior:

I mean, objectively speaking. you know?

He narrowed his eyes, confused. She quickly followed up with more texts.

Luzura_Warrior:

what? I wouldn’t joke about that. I’m serious.

Luzura_Warrior:

did somebody tell you that you weren’t?

Luzura_Warrior:

because that’s wrong, you’re definitely. yknow, teenage heartthrob material. 

Luzura_Warrior:

honestly I’m surprised you don’t know this? when I first met you, you were so confident, it seemed like you were all ,’i’m sexy and I know it’

Luzura_Warrior:

uh I, mean, you know. like. objectively! haha.

In an intensely short amount of time Hunter felt like his head was going to possibly explode, the phrase ‘teenage heartthrob’ on repeat in his mind. Flustered, he tried to type out a reply.

Rulerzreachf4n:

you’re really serious? I. but. 

This didn’t make sense. But it really did seem like she was being sincere.

Luzura_Warrior:

ok, you gotta tell me who told you all this BS about how you look, because they’re not only a jerk, theyre apparently blind

Starting to feel a bit warm, he confessed,

Rulerzreachf4n:

nobody really told me that, I just. it’s what I’ve always kinda thought.

Luzura_Warrior:

oh.

Rulerzreachf4n:

but. now that I have your perspective, I. 

He struggled to figure out how to reply.

Rulerzreachf4n:

well it’s.

Rulerzreachf4n:

 good to know

Luzura_Warrior:

okay well great glad i could clarify that!

Luzura_Warrior:

annnnyway

Luzura_Warrior:

anythgig  ecxiti ng ever happen onyour patrols???

Hunter glanced up as he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. It turned out to be a Coven scout, carrying a spear, also out on patrol. Not really a surprise; it seemed the only people out today were Coven members.

The scout waved as he approached. 

“Hello, sir! Run into any problems today?”

Ah, it was Steve. There were a great many coven scouts in their ranks, and Hunter admittedly didn’t recognize them all by name, but he recognized Steve. He had a rather decent . . . well, “friendship” was not the word. He had a rather decent acquaintanceship with him. It mostly consisted of Steve sitting next to him sometimes during lunch and rambling about whatever random things were rattling about in his head, while Steve in turn would listen to Hunter rant about Kikimora. It hadn’t ever gone beyond that, but still, it made Hunter feel slightly more at ease to be around a semi-familiar face. Well. A semi-familiar voice. He’d never actually seen any of the scouts maskless. 

“Nah. Just told a couple of kids to go home before their mothers worry about them. Truly a test of my skills and training, I know, but somehow I prevailed.”

Steve laughed. It was strangely nice to have another person actually laugh at his snarky comments.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t one of those days where we had to clear out a sligguth infestation, right? I’d relish a little boredom in comparison.”

Hunter frowned.

“I guess so.”

The coven scout leaned casually against the Dead Hand’s wrist as he began to ramble idly.

“This job’s not quite what I expected, I’ll tell you that, but it does give me a lot of time to think, you know? It’s kind of nice on these slow days when nobody’s around to bother me and I can just do my own thing.”

Hunter raised a brow, even though his face was covered by his mask.

“You mean goof off?”

Steve chuckled again.

“I know I’m not the only one, weren’t you just looking at your scroll?”

Hunter jolted a little, even though he still had the scroll in his hand and it wasn’t a surprise the scout had seen. Accepting that he’d been caught out, he lifted the scroll back up and glanced at it. He answered wryly,

“As far as you’re concerned I was just monitoring social media for any potential rabblerousers.”

The scout nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

Hunter looked at his scroll thoughtfully for a few moments, considering the human he’d just been conversing with. He was struck with a sudden impulse. It was pretty out of character for him, but there was something about the human that seemed to make him do strange things. And in the moment, he didn’t really care.

“Hey, um, Steve? You wanna help me take, uh . . . a ‘selfie’?”

He handed his scroll to Steve. The scout shrugged.

“Sure. Although I don’t think it’s technically a selfie unless you take it yourself.”

Hunter hopped on his artificial staff and quickly flew up to the top of Dead Hand.

“All right, well whatever it’s called.”

He landed on the open palm of the giant hand and set his staff down. After a moment of hesitation, he reached up and pulled his Golden Guard mask off.

From below, Steve was pointing the scroll at him, fiddling with settings.

“Hmm, why don’t you try something a little more dynamic, sir?”

Hesitantly, he asked, 

“Dynamic?” 

“Yeah! Pose or something.”

He thought about that a moment, his mind casting back to when he’d first met Luz on the airship. Oh. Sure, he could do that.

He got down and sprawled casually on his side, leaning his chin into a palm, propping it up with an elbow. He held his mask in his other hand loosely against his waist and fixed the scroll with a steady gaze.

“Oh, that’s perfect, sir! Hold that. Hmm, the angle is a bit weird down here. Maybe if I backed up a little. . .”

Hunter had a better idea. He grabbed his staff and sent it down to the ground.

“Here, just ride that.”

“Oh, that’s genius, sir.”

Steve seemed unperturbed about this taking a little work, and he rode the staff up around Hunter’s hight and carefully adjusted his position.

“All right, good, now smile for the camera?”

Ugh, this felt kinda weird. He really did hate pictures. But he was determined to do it.

All right, just imagine it was Luz floating there. She wanted a selfie, he’d give her one.

He quirked his brow a little and slipped into a cheeky grin, gazing intensely into the scroll as if she was right there in front of him. He heard the scroll snap a few pictures.

“Wow, you’re a natural, sir. I feel like this would make a great recruitment poster! The old one is a little plain, you know?”

Hunter stood back up and shook his head as Steve returned the scroll to him.

“Nah, this is only for friends.”

He sat down on the hand, his feet dangling off the edge as he fiddled with his scroll. Steve landed and sat down beside him, humming,

“Of course, you need to keep the mystery of the original poster. People respect and fear the mask.”

Hunter nodded.

“Exactly.”

He hesitated as he looked at his picture. Did it look stupid? Should he actually send it, or maybe retake it? Was it too weird? Too . . . much? Maybe he should–

Oh, screw it.

He sent the photo to Luz before he could question it any further and chicken out. After that was a tense wait, but it didn’t last for very long.

Luzura_Warrior:

ohmygod 

Luzura_Warrior:

asafdjh;lgfju

Luzura_Warrior:

what have I done, I never should have told you the truth 

It was unclear what exactly that meant, but Hunter had hoped it was positive. He answered cautiously. 

Rulerzreachf4n:

you said you wanted a selfie

Luzura_Warrior:

hahaha I did, it’s true

Luzura_Warrior:

but boy, you REALLY delivered 

Rulerzreachf4n:

is that a good thing?

Luzura_Warrior:

yeah uhh 

Luzura_Warrior:

definitely a good thing.

Luzura_Warrior:

it 

Luzura_Warrior:

it’s really good, haha.

He started to type out a reply, but she followed up with more texts before he could.

Luzura_Warrior:

jeez, that look you’re giving is smokin’

Luzura_Warrior:

do you practice that in the mirror or

Luzura_Warrior:

hey wait, who took the picture?

Rulerzreachf4n:

thats not important

Luzura_Warrior:

you actually enlisted somebody’s help to take this for me?

Luzura_Warrior:

I feel so special :3 Rulerzreachf4n:

yeah, yeah, just don’t show it to anyone else alright

Luzura_Warrior:

whuh wait

Luzura_Warrior:

this really was just for me??

Luzura_Warrior:

 so i really AM special :3c

Growing uncomfortable with how perceptive Luz was being, he tried to derail.

Rulerzreachf4n:

I don’t know what that emoji means

Luzura_Warrior:

oh sorry. it’s like…. a kittycat smile? there isn’t really a good official emoji for it.

Rulerzreachf4n:

a cat smile?

He wasn’t sure how a cat could smile and what the heck that would even indicate.

Luzura_Warrior:

yeah it’s like . . .

Luzura_Warrior:

hold on a sec

Luzura_Warrior:

Luzura_Warrior:

like that!

Hunter studied the picture, which you’d think would help clarify things, but really all it did was confuse the issue even further.

Rulerzreachf4n:

what exactly is that look supposed to mean though

Luzura_Warrior:

:3c hehehehehe

Rulerzreachf4n:

luz that doesnt help

“So does your friend like the picture?”

Hunter jumped in surprise, having entirely forgotten that Steve was even sitting there.

“Uhh.”

His scroll buzzed and spammed him with indecipherable emoji.

Luzura_Warrior:

😏😏 😼😼🦦🦦😈😇

“. . . I think so? Yeah.”

 The rest of patrol was just as stunningly uneventful, so Hunter spent the rest of it walking his route and talking with Steve. Honestly, it wasn’t so terrible a way to finish out the afternoon, which mostly was just letting Steve ramble on about his little brother and his newfound interest in Illusion magic. When Hunter returned to the castle, he had some very boring tasks that included taking stock of some new supplies (again, he found himself wondering if Belos just assigned him duties as mere busywork, but it wasn’t his place to question things). It took him several hours to complete and then he had a cold, unpleasant dinner at the cafeteria, but for some reason, none of it fazed him much, and he spent the whole time humming to himself, a little smile on his face.

When the evening came and he was finally free to return to his room, he gratefully collapsed onto his bed and stuck his face into the nearest book. It was a pleasant diversion for about an hour, and then his scroll buzzed. Eagerly, he grabbed it and found that it was Luz asking if he could help her with a few questions on her Beast Keeping homework. He agreed to help. 

What had started out as just a few questions quickly grew into a much larger discussion.

Luzura_Warrior:

I just am having a hard time because I had no idea there were so many kinds of dragons

Luzura_Warrior:

in the human realm I only really heard of the basic ones

Luzura_Warrior:

not all these weird wingless dragons and the legless dragons and the dragons with only two legs and all that

Rulerzreachf4n:

well they’re not really dragons. 

Luzura_Warrior:

what?? what do you mean.

Rulerzreachf4n:

the common ancestor species is a wyrm, which eventually evolved into lindwyrms and loongs over time. the ones living at higher elevations developed into drakes. and then potentially dragons arose from the drakes. 

Rulerzreachf4n:

they’re all in the wyrm family, though, a dragon is just a kind of wyrm

Luzura_Warrior:

seriously? I thought a wyrm was just . . . a legless and wingless dragon?

Rulerzreachf4n:

no, it’s the other way around. a dragon is a wyrm with legs and wings. 

Luzura_Warrior:

man, this is weird. so what exactly is a wyrm then? 

Rulerzreachf4n:

well, wyrms branch off from the sea serpents because of their scales, regenerative abilities and pyrorespiration. sea serpents of course belonging to the larger family of serpents, which in turn of course branch off from the true worms

Luzura_Warrior:

hold on, slow down a little. not sure if I’m getting you because it seems like you’re saying that . . . dragons evolved from snakes and that snakes evolved from worms?

Rulerzreachf4n:

snakes are a smaller sub-family of serpents, really

Rulerzreachf4n:

but your statement is mostly correct, yeah.

Luzura_Warrior:

snakes evolved from worms??

Rulerzreachf4n:

yeah? didn’t they cover this already?

Rulerzreachf4n:

everything evolved from worms, they’re nature’s ideal form

Luzura_Warrior:

buhhuhuwhaaa? 

Rulerzreachf4n:

you haven’t covered the Great Ancestral Worm yet??

Luzura_Warrior:

um, well. I kind of haven’t had one of the pre-reqs for this class. I begged the teacher to let me take it anyway . . . 

Luzura_Warrior:

but please, I gotta know about anything called ‘the Great Ancestral Worm,’ because this is getting wild

Rulerzreachf4n:

okay, well. 

Rulerzreachf4n:

in the beginning, when the Titan first fell, the first creature to immerge from the decomposing muck was a worm

Rulerzreachf4n:

the Great Ancestral Worm, from which all beasts sprang. the ratworms, the trash slugs, the giraffes, the sea serpents, all that

Rulerzreachf4n:

and from the beasts, branched off the bug demons and the bipedal demons

Rulerzreachf4n:

many bug demons still retaining body forms quite close to the original ancestral worms, but developing sentience alongside the bipedal demons

Rulerzreachf4n:

bipedal demons of course ended up quite distant from the ancestral design, and needed to compensate for it, develop bile sacs for their own magic

Luzura_Warrior:

okay hold on 

Luzura_Warrior:

so you’re saying EVERYTHING is based off worms

Luzura_Warrior:

what about, uhh. echo mice?

Rulerzreachf4n:

they evolved from the ratworms.

Luzura_Warrior:

okay, how about the selkiedomuses.

Rulerzreachf4n:

sea serpents that developed fins and blubber.

Luzura_Warrior:

what about birds??

Rulerzreachf4n:

they came from the wyverns and feathered serpents.

Luzura_Warrior:

there’s feathered serpents too?? oh god

Luzura_Warrior:

this is getting a little overwhelming

Rulerzreachf4n:

let’s just focus on wyrms for now. you said you only needed to know the basic groups for now, right?

Luzura_Warrior:

yeah. yeah, ok.

Rulerzreachf4n:

So we have the Wyrms, and then the Lindwyrms which evolved front limbs to help a little with traction, but still move with a serpentine body motion. And next are the Loongs, with four limbs which can walk awkwardly on land but who mostly prefer to swim or fly. 

Luzura_Warrior:

wait. fly? I thought Loongs don’t have wings?

Rulerzreachf4n:

that’s correct, they don’t.

Luzura_Warrior:

asdgrsrjyyj

Luzura_Warrior:

THEN HOW

Rulerzreachf4n:

they fly via magic. loong’s magic is fairly potent, they also have some control over weather and can shapeshift.

Luzura_Warrior:

oh, right, magic is a thing. haha . . .

Rulerzreachf4n:

next are the drakes

Luzura_Warrior:

those are the wingless dragons! right? they first found them at the knee

Rulerzreachf4n:

well, ‘wingless dragons’ is... not very descriptive. 

Rulerzreachf4n:

but yes, the drakes evolved at higher elevations and had stockier bodies, sturdier limbs that made for good walking and climbing, and stronger fire breath.

Luzura_Warrior:

can THEY magically fly?

Rulerzreachf4n:

that’s a good question! no, the drakes lost the ability to fly, as well as their shapeshifting and weather control

Luzura_Warrior:

okay, gotcha

Rulerzreachf4n:

then we have the dragons, which fly with the help of their leathery wings. and then wyverns

Luzura_Warrior:

hold on a sec one time I heard Hooty say HE’S A WORM

Luzura_Warrior:

does that mean hooty’s a bug demon???

Rulerzreachf4n:

uh… do you mean your house demon?

Luzura_Warrior:

yeah!

Rulerzreachf4n:

yes, house demons are a type of parasitic worm. 

Luzura_Warrior:

holy crap this makes so much sense now. now that I think about it, he was saying something one time about an ancestral worm

Rulerzreachf4n:

uh yeah so, anyway

Luzura_Warrior:

wait did you say PARASITIC??

Luzura_Warrior:

he’s a parasite???

Rulerzreachf4n:

yes, house demons parasitize living houses 

Luzura_Warrior:

I thought hooty WAS the house!!! that’s not his body??

Rulerzreachf4n:

it’s technically not. once a house demon attaches to a house, they gain some control and nerve sensation, but it’s technically their host.

Luzura_Warrior:

oh my god. this is blowing my mind

Rulerzreachf4n:

ok, I think we’re getting a bit off track here

Luzura_Warrior:

right, sorry, sorry

Luzura_Warrior:

back to dragons. I mean, wyrms, back to wyrms and not house worms. I’m listening.

Hunter did his best to get Luz back on track and explain the basic wyrm families, as well as the two competing theories on whether drakes evolved into dragons, or ampitheres evolved into wyverns and then some wyverns developed into dragons. Although Luz was a bit distractable at times and prone to chit-chat, she was also very enthusiastic and seemed genuinely interested in the subject. She also seemed to pick up the information fairly quickly. When they’d finished, she thanked him profusely and said she was going to spend another hour studying to make sure it was solidified in her head for tomorrow’s quiz. He bid her a goodnight and returned to his reading.

He continued to read until it grew very late, at an hour when his mind was very fuzzy and his thoughts were disjointed. He browsed Pentsagram a little, very amused to find Darius had shared his Kikimora meme, and it seemed to be spreading rapidly. He giggled at that for a bit and then his thoughts started to turn slowly along the memories of his day, over the discussions he’d had with Luz. There was a very pleasant feeling that flickered through him as he pondered things, like the bright little embers that popped off a crackling fire. 

When his scroll buzzed, he sleepily picked it up and checked it.

Luzura_Warrior:

hunteeerrrrrr

Luzura_Warrior:

I’m booorrreddddd

He chuckled outloud and typed a response.

Rulerzreachf4n:

thought you were studying

Luzura_Warrior:

yeah it got boring

Luzura_Warrior:

whatre you doin?

Rulerzreachf4n:

well I WAS reading peacefully

Luzura_Warrior:

awhjyyhd why are you even still up it’s like almost 2am

Rulerzreachf4n:

why are YOU still up

Luzura_Warrior:

that’s evading the question, I asked u first

Rulerzreachf4n:

im always up this late

Rulerzreachf4n:

it’s the only time to myself i really get, so. thats why.

Luzura_Warrior:

that makes sense.

Rulerzreachf4n:

k so now you

Luzura_Warrior:

well I was just cramming for the quiz

Luzura_Warrior:

I am bad at time management, I admit it

Luzura_Warrior:

but I’m in bed now like a good girl, I swear

Luzura_Warrior:

see look

A picture popped up, showing a dimmed bedroom. Hunter squinted at it. Luz seemed to be on the floor, sitting inside a strange fabric . . . cocoon? 

Rulerzreachf4n:

what. the heck is that, that’s not a bed.

Luzura_Warrior:

it’s a sleeping bag. 

Rulerzreachf4n:

that doesn’t seem very comfortable.

Luzura_Warrior:

no, it’s okay! it’s not so bad. not as good as a bed, I admit, but eda didn’t have any spare mattresses, so I’ve just been using this.

Rulerzreachf4n:

huh. she should get you a bed.

Luzura_Warrior:

well moneys not exactly pouring in right now

Luzura_Warrior:

I know you probably have a nice fancy bed at the castle but not everyone can be so luxurious, ya know

Hunter frowned, considering his bed and his room.

Rulerzreachf4n:

actually my bed’s really not fancy

Rulerzreachf4n:

or my room. belos gave me quarters that are the same size and furnishings as any other scout

Rulerzreachf4n:

said that i shouldn’t grow soft or complacent

Luzura_Warrior:

oh

Luzura_Warrior:

whoa I didn’t realize that.

Luzura_Warrior:

ok now I’m curious. whats it look like?

Luzura_Warrior:

send me a picture?? 😃

Hunter aimed his scroll, trying to get a shot, then grumbled because it didn’t look like much from his angle. He got out of bed and snapped a photo so she could actually see things.

Luzura_Warrior:

oooh okay, it’s not so bad. seems cozy. that pillowcase looks pretty ratty tho lol

Luzura_Warrior:

oh my god wait, you have a PLUSHIE?? I see that lil head poking out there!

Hunter quickly re-checked the photo, and to his horror, you could in fact see the hot pink head of his goofy little frog plushie sticking out behind a pillow.

Rulerzreachf4n:

please pretend you didnt see that

Luzura_Warrior:

no way, oh my god hunter this is adorable. I love this. you like plushies too!! I wanna get a better look, send me a pic! 😃

Rulerzreachf4n:

no way you’ll just make fun of me

Luzura_Warrior:

no I won’t!! I swear. pleeeeease?? 

Luzura_Warrior:

do you actually sleep with it too? aaaaa thatd be so CUTE

Hunter grunted, dropping back down onto his bed with a defeated sigh. There was no way she was gonna drop this, he knew her well enough by now for that. Gruhhh.

He reached over and pulled the plushie out from behind the pillow. Wrapping an arm around it, he hugged it tight against his chest and aimed the scroll at himself, sticking his tongue out and snapping a photo. 

When he sent it, Luz nearly combusted.

Luzura_Warrior:

saftrrerghewyhrw

Luzura_Warrior:

aaaaaaa  hutner!!!!

Luzura_Warrior:

SO CUTE

Luzura_Warrior:

you giant dork i LOVE it

Luzura_Warrior:

look at youuuu aaaaa!! 😍

Rulerzreachf4n:

you show that to anybody and I will hunt you down

Luzura_Warrior:

hehehehehee

Luzura_Warrior:

hunt me down. cos you’re hunter

Rulerzreachf4n:

yes. you don’t want  that, trust me

Luzura_Warrior:

heeehee, but maybe I do 😉

Hunter’s thoughts halted, stalling at Luz’s text as he struggled to form a coherent response. Fortunately, Luz just continued to ramble.

Luzura_Warrior:

ughh I should get to sleep 

Luzura_Warrior:

i have a really busy day tomorrow

Luzura_Warrior:

all these quizzes and exams at once, I swear the teachers do it on purpose

He had to focus to type out a reply that sounded normal.

Rulerzreachf4n:

yeah, I should sleep too

Luzura_Warrior:

ok you might not hear from me tomorrow until real late, i got a lot going on

Luzura_Warrior:

but i’ll say bye for now!

Rulerzreachf4n:

okay

Luzura_Warrior:

so gnnnighty night for now, my goldie dork boy~~ 😘

Luzura_Warrior:

talk to you later 💖💗💜

Rulerzreachf4n:

bye

Hunter stared dumbly at the scroll for a while after she’d logged off, his fuzzy sleepy thoughts rolling about in his mind like a tangled ball of yarn. Letting the scroll drop down onto his bed, he fell asleep before even bothering to get changed for the night.

[ur-promethean]

halo infinite meta :) spoilers for end of the game... fernando and the master chief have some meaningful conversations, against the master chief’s best efforts

At some point in the evening, when Fernando was spending his time embedded in a Wasp unit, tinkering with its onboard computer, he spied the Master Chief step onto the landing platform, sight upon him, and walk in his direction.

The motion of it - like most of the Chief’s movements - was eerily precise, leading Fernando to feel as if he were a recently locked-on target of some destructive orbital weapon, with only seconds left to come to peace with whatever it was that he believed in. It was a combination of things, he thought: the impassive, golden visor, the full suit of MJOLNIR power armor, the slew of firearms draped over him. The crisp, rigid, military formality combined with a fluid smoothness. Like the other instances where Fernando found himself the subject of the Chief’s focus, he couldn’t help spending a few seconds wondering if he needed to run or not.

He had little time to guess. In only a few steps, the Spartan was standing beside the Wasp unit, somehow still taller than Fernando could manage while sitting in the cockpit. Resembling a statue more than anything alive.

“Esparza,” the Master Chief rumbled.

Fernando watched his warped reflection dance across the Chief’s visor and swallowed nervously.  

“Yes?” he said.

A hand the size of Fernando’s face presented itself. The Master Chief stood silently, until Fernando took the hint, and cautiously offered his own. The Chief’s fingers loosened - silver flashed - then, into his waiting palm, dropped a holobank.

“That’s not…” Fernando started to say, before words failed him entirely. He eagerly brought the device closer and examined it for damage. Thumbing the power button, a glowing, warm vision of his partner and daughter fizzled to life, and the tinny recording began, no worse for wear. It was a miracle.

Fernando breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed the holobank to his chest. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. “I thought that Elite destroyed this, after he… right. You found it, then?”

“Yes,” the Chief said plainly.

“And you brought it back. For me.” Fernando beamed. “I didn’t know you to be so sentimental, Spartan. But I’m glad for it. Thank you, Chief. Really.”

The helmet tilted fractionally. A nod. After a moment, the vision of himself in the Spartan’s visor peeled away, as the Spartan turned and went to leave. Fernando wondered if something else was worth saying, and came up empty. It was too late, anyway - the Chief had descended down the ramp from the landing platform, and was gone again. Utterly silent.

///

It was during one of their long conversations, when the Weapon was able to ask all the questions the Chief was incapable of answering, that Fernando managed to wrest the details of the Silent Auditorium from her.

He learned, then, that after they won against the Harbinger, the Weapon and the Master Chief had recovered a message from Cortana. The Weapon confessed to Fernando the secret of the hour: that the Chief’s former AI was already dead, and that something about the message itself had resulted in a long bout of moody silence that felt more charged than usual.

Combined with the Chief’s odd speech about failure, and his muted reactions to anything related to Cortana, Fernando felt decently miffed.

“I thought that was a good thing,” he said, perplexed. “Wasn’t that what we wanted to happen? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to help do?”

“Well, yeah,” the Weapon said. She shrugged. “But, hey, good luck reading that guy.”

On the third day of working in the same space as a miserable Spartan, Fernando decided that another kind of conversation was necessary. He approached the Master Chief - who was unloading requisition items from a Pelican’s cargo hold - and stood on the ramp, effectively blocking the Spartan’s exit. 

Or, trying to. If the Chief wanted out, it would take a lot more than just him to slow him.

If he could even slow him.

“Tell me,” Fernando ordered, “about Cortana.”

The Master Chief stared at him, holding an ammunition crate that would have taken three Marines to move, and did not quickly answer. His visor caught the setting sun behind them and appeared as if ignited.

“What?” he said.

“Cortana. Tell me about her.”

Another beat. Eternity dwindled past, and eventually the Spartan set the crate down, his visor losing none of its intensity. “What... about her?” the Chief said.

Fernando quietly noted the other man’s tone - guarded, but not in a way that implied offense. Just wariness. Without waiting to entertain doubt, Fernando attempted to rally.

“Just, tell me about a time you thought of her, recently,” he said. “Tell me a story.”

The Chief shook his head. “I need to offload these supplies before dark,” he said tightly. “This can wait, Esparza.”

“No, no,” Fernando argued, waving his hand as though to brush him away. “Don’t give me that. Just tell me something that made you think of her. You’ve seen my past, so… give me this, okay? Please?”

Because it sounds like you need it, he thought.

God, the visor was like staring down the barrel of a gun that could kill him a thousand ways. Fernando spent another eternity in the sights of it before the Spartan bothered to speak - softer now, as if to contain the conversation within the Pelican’s hold. As if there was anyone around to hear them.

“There’s a lake,” the Chief said. “Near Hotel Base.”

Fernando exhaled. 

“… A lake,” he said flatly.

The Chief nodded once. “Cortana always had something to say about the geography. When I see the lake, I wonder what she would have noticed about it. That’s it.”

“That is the last time you thought of her? When was that?”

There came another pause, as if getting this far had caused a great deal of effort from the Master Chief.

“… On the way here,” he said.

“I see. Well? How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know.” The Chief paused. “It’s not bad.”

Smiling, Fernando relaxed slightly. “I don’t know whether I should be mad at you or not,” he said, “but I am starting to suspect that, after everything, you don’t hate her.”

“… No.”

“If you’ll forgive me, that was kind of a little test. I had my suspicions.”

The Chief did not respond.

“The Weapon told me that she was important to you. I guess I knew that, too. Can I tell you something?”

“… Yes.”

“I heard about that message she left you. If I had to guess, I think you know it’s time to move on. And, I think you feel guilt.”

Once again, the Chief did not answer.

“I’ll tell you this, too: it’s normal to feel that way. You might feel like you’re leaving her behind, so you’ll feel heavy. Weighed down. But, one way or another, you'll end up bringing her with you. One day, you won’t think of her so often. That’s normal, too. But, she is never completely gone. She goes with you. I hope you can find peace in that, at least.”

“Maybe,” the Spartan said quietly.

“Thanks for telling me,” Fernando said at length. “I can’t claim to understand what you two were… but, I know this isn’t easy for you, Spartan. I can see that much. But I hope it helped.”

“It did.”

Fernando smiled. “Good. Finish what you’re doing, and get some rest for once. I’ll see you in the ay-em, big guy.”

“Okay.”

The Spartan went to pick up the ammunition crate again, then abruptly stopped, and looked at him, pinning Fernando in place. With the sun having already set behind them, the Chief’s visor was rendered a deep pool of glittering amber - the intensity dimmed, only somewhat.

“Yes?” Fernando said curiously.

“It was a river,” the Chief said. “By Hotel Base. It was a river once. Maybe two.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“The level of erosion around it. The water’s shallow. A lot of gravel and sediment.”

Fernando blinked. 

“… You’re probably right,” he said.

The comment was met with silence. The Spartan stared at him a half-second longer, then hefted the crate in his arms, and moved soundlessly past Fernando, and down the ramp. Depositing the crate near the weapons lockers, the Spartan then walked away from the landing zone, saying nothing. He did not look back.

[mycreativitysblog]

Desi Ghee: Exactly How To Make It, Nourishment, Advantage For Health And Wellness, Skin As Well As Recipes

Food is a challenging subject. Especially, if you are attempting to chat, clarify and vouch by the benefits of standard foods - it makes it even more complicated. Even then let's try. Now, allow's make a checklist of all those components picking up on our kitchen shelves-- hand battered rice, cold-pressed cooking oils, unpolished pulses and also the listing is unlimited but hey wait! where's desi ghee?

Earthomaya Desi ghee? Exactly how is it various from normal ghee? Why is it so unique as well as how did it gain the precursor 'Desi?' Well. First things first. To put it exactly, desi ghee is made from pure cow's milk. It is generated after huge churning of buttermilk and also home heating butter at the ideal temperature level, in a standard method for that aromatic as well as abundant flavour.

Alright. If you thought, it's fascinating, let's speak more about very own desi ghee or simply cleared up butter as they simply put it in English. And also once again if you are asking yourself if the desi ghee as well claimed its position back and if it is really healthy - in the next couple of paragraphs, we will certainly be busting numerous misconceptions related to that golden colour, clear fluid with periodic solidified material drifting around-- as well as why, you must be making it a part of your staple diet plan, today!

There is no rejecting that ghee or ghrita, as they say in Sanskrit is our very own Indian invention. Each little drop has been supporting the human race for a many variety of generations, inhabiting a crucial function in rituals, as an important part of ancient medicine Ayurveda eventually ending up being an indivisible part of our lives.

The word ghee is created from the Sanskrit word ghr- which indicates sprinkle and also in Southern parts of India it is extensively known as Neyyi. Ghee inhabits a critical position be it in Vedic rituals, marital relationships, spiritual personalizeds as well as differed foods across India, Middle Eastern and also South East Asian countries.

Desi Ghee In Traditional Messages:

Hindu Vedic message Yajurveda states ghee, made from pure cow's milk as a sacred active ingredient, a must-have in all homams, yagnas and is used to agni (fire) as well as various divine beings, throughout rituals.

The impressives Mahabharata as well as Bhagavata are incomplete without the mention of desi ghee, as Kauravas were thought to be nurtured as fetus in a pot filled with ghee, while the stories of little Krishna and his buddies salivating over ghee as well as various other milk items have actually always stayed a delight for the supporters.

Muslims think ghee from grass-fed cows is both a shifaa (treatment) and dawaa (medication) for its variety of health and wellness and medicinal residential or commercial properties. It is likewise interesting to note that Buddhism attributes 'ghee' to the greatest order of understanding, often contrasting it to the last of 5 flavours in dairy-- milk, lotion or malai, curdled milk, butter and then ghee to Lotus and Paradise sutras-- the highest amongst all mentors.

Conventional Indian medicine recommends lights diyas, by dipping wicks made from pure cotton, in ghee to eliminate viruses, bacteria and various other contaminants airborne, at night hrs particularly during rainy and also winter seasons.

Desi Ghee in Cuisines:

The existence of desi ghee in our day-to-day live is enormous also today, with every foodie connecting for a dose of this dairy products marvel, to cover their dishes. South Indians swear by their, 'Ghee roast' the crispy dosas, cosy idlis dipped in newly made 'neyyi,' while for North Indians, puranpoli, parathas, rotis, biriyani, kichidi and not to fail to remember halwas, laddus are just incomplete, without charitable blobs of ghee.

In lots of Indian families, offering food with freshly thawed ghee signifies pride, love and it is a typical view in our family members, mommies as well as grandmothers stipulating their kids to add more ghee to their diet regimen.

Like all other traditional foods, Desi Ghee also experienced couple of grim years in the last one decade yet all thanks to the understanding being created by stars, nutritional specialists, it is regaining its splendor. From being labelled as undesirable, fatty, a major contributor to weight gain, it is now trending as a superfood and also prior to we plunge into myths and also realities related to desi ghee, let's recognize, how specifically it is made.

How To Make Desi Ghee?

Desi ghee is made from A2 milk and also it is procured from Indian grass-fed cows with A2A2 gene. This milk does not consist of A1 protein and also contains just A2 beta-casein and also according to studies, A2 milk is much healthier than other sorts of milk.

It is not simply the procedure, however ingredients as well, vary from desi ghee to various other ghee types. In other ghee, there could be possible amounts of vegetable trans fat, which are dangerous for health and wellness.

Procedure:

Desi ghee is made by using bilona or vilona method as mentioned in Ayurveda. Under this sophisticated procedure, milk is steamed and cooled. It is then included with half a spoon of curd and also kept overnight under area temperature level to create into curd.

The curd is after that spun right into buttermilk and also butter that drifts on the pot is collected right into a thick bottomed vessel. It is then boiled on low flame as well as the water gets evaporated, leaving fragrant ghee behind. In a couple of households, it is a technique to include betel nut fallen leave to the boiling butter to give it some extra intense flavour.

In case, if you are utilizing store-bought ghee and also check the pureness, steam a dose above fire and also if it reddens, after that it is pure.

Desi Ghee in Ayurveda:

Ayurveda specifies ghee as the byproduct of butter with no impurities. According to old Ayurvedic message, Sushruta Samhita desi ghee efficiently handle various anomalies caused because of pitta dosha such as inflammation. It remains in fact likewise serves as a rasayana which implies it can recover both body and mind at the same time.

One more well-known Ayurvedic scripture Charaka Samhita as well mirrors similar sights, also in an intricate method. It describes that ghee is extremely suggested for those bodily constitutions often controlled by vata and pitta doshas. It is suggested forever vision, long life, to develop immunity, strength, ojas, smooth skin with a glowing skin, memory, intelligence, fire up digestion, utmost performance of all sensory body organs, as a balm to recover burn injuries and also can be taken by the old, children and the weak alike.

Why Is Desi Ghee Healthy?

Desi ghee is made up of fats of which 62% is saturated fats which play a popular function in enhancing HDL or excellent cholesterol, minimize LDL or bad cholesterol without damaging the lipid account. Ghee is additionally a rich source of Omega 3 and also Omega 6 and is loaded with vital amino acids.

Boosts Digestion:

Ghee is a giant of short-chain fats known as butyric acid which aids in breaking down of food better, also while boosting digestion enzymes. It is maybe one of minority food with all-natural butyric acid which can calm as well as recover the gastrointestinal tract for much better functioning.

Regulates Blood Sugars:

In contrast to the belief that ghee needs to be avoided by the diabetics, it, actually, works as a representative that can metabolise and also stabilize the degrees of high blood glucose levels. It is strongly suggested for diabetics to include ghee in their diet as it not only promotes smooth food digestion yet likewise stimulates the manufacturing of insulin to manage diabetic issues.

Heals Urticaria:

Urticaria or hives are unexpected outbreaks on the skin, that resemble tiny bumps externally often created as a result of insect bites, allergic reactions and even tension. While this condition is typically dealt with by antihistamines, Ayurveda recommends using pure desi ghee on the impacted areas for prompt relief from itchiness. It additionally suggests consuming half-a-spoon desi ghee mixed in one spoon black pepper powder daily on empty stomach to deal with the issue completely.

Improves Reproductive Health:

Ghee is recommended for boosting the performance of man as well as female reproductive organs. Females of reproductive age are recommended to take two teaspoons of desi ghee everyday to regulate hormones while in males the same quantity of ghee enhances sperm high quality and also motility.

Deals with Sleeping disorders:

Ghee is a marvel component dealing with severe insomnia. Delicately scrub ghee on temples and also on the stomach around the marine to stabilize vata as well as to cool down the body. This massage leaves a calming effect on the mind, causing an excellent quantity of sleep.

[thebendsbyradiohead]

re ur covid talk from a twitter friend

after being insanely careful and both shots, caught it due to someone that didn't wanna get tested and didn't wear a mask in an office space. im 27 and with okay health overall.

this was in january, i've had 4 periods since then -thankfully because i take bcp (for a decade now) to regulate it BUT

my period still got messed up - i used to get it on a friday between 10-12 ON THE DOT

now it's been late every time, last time it was 12 hours

the pain hits different, it used to be painful the first few hours, now it's lasted up to 3 days

the pms has been insane, at one point i actually had a breakdown and couldn't function for a couple of days mentally and that's never happened before

the length also varies(always used to last a week), one period post covid ended in three days, another took a two day break in between, and my last one only happened at night for some reason (literally no period until like 8pm, and then the gates opened till like 4am)

and i consider myself lucky since the overall physical recovery after testing negative lasted about a month. i legit couldn't pick up a carton of milk without struggling in that month. had dizzy spells after walking longer than 10mins and was always sleepy and hungry because i was exhausted from it. all of that is over except for my period which im hoping will figure itself out sooner rather than later.

i don't want to worry you with any of this but yeah, you should definitely be careful in what you do moving forward and take it easy because it's no joke. i hope ur period is just like that because of the illness and you won't get any lingering effects afterward. im sure you know you should be drinking a lot of fluids and that definitely helped in making most of the physical symptoms ease up while i had it + lots of fruits and veggies

feel better soon with no lasting ailments bestie <3

hey! thanks for sharing your experience with me and i'm sure you meant well with this message but i would appreciate in the future if you didn't send me details of ailments, especially when it's related to the topic i originally posted on another social media because it catches me off guard somewhere i didn't expect my health is a very triggering subject for me and even reading the most general symptom online can throw me in an anxiety spiral for days so you can imagine that reading detailed descriptions of covid symptoms/consequences certainly doesn't help when i'm already sick

i'm well aware of the horrific effects covid can have on the body, a close family friend of mine died early on in the pandemic, and i know that many people have reported changes in their cycle after a diagnosis. however right now, i want to keep a cool head and take my recovery day by day instead of ruminating on the potential repercussions since the stress of that can only make my condition worse.

thanks for the well wishes and i hope things regulate with your cycle too!

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

You don’t want to miss dessert - Rio (Good Girls)

Ok so let’s be honest, last night’s episode was just pure teasing, the hands, the smirks, the bedroom scene. God have mercy I’m about to bust 😂 The thought of Rio making you cum into his hands in his own family home while everyone is waiting outside is just 👅 Enjoy this one 😏

Warning : Smut

Word Count : 1.6k (Not proofread)

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

Being in business with Rio was definitely a challenge for you. You’ve had your arguments over the past 2 years, them not always ending well. You had wanted out after 8 months, but he wouldn’t let you do that. He had threatened you for you to come back to work with him. The problem with your relationship, was that both of you always wanted to be right and have the upper hand. He loved that you were daring and confident, but he often needed to remind you who was boss.

You could say your relationship was complicated. It was only business related, even though the both of you had slept together a couple of times before, not making it a recuring thing. Three times, you had slept together three times since you had met him, each time better than the other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t drawn and attracted to Rio. Hell, even his name made you feel puddy. He wasn’t like anyone you’d ever hooked up with before. Maybe it was the fact that you never really met someone like him, which is normal cause Rio is unique.

People wouldn’t necessary imagine the both of you working and being together, but that’s why it made perfect sense. Neither your entourage nor the FBI would suspect you to be in business with a guy like him. By the look of it, you seem to live in two different worlds, but you were very much alike. You needed to be in control, just like him and you had a certain way to plan and do things, which matched his way to do business.

He thrusted you, and he had spoken to you about meeting important people, which you were nervous for. You didn’t want to imagine someone more dangerous and intimidating than him, but you tried to prepare yourself for the worse. You were supposed to meet later that day and he had texted you the address. Parts of you was always being skeptical about his next move, fearing something bad could happen to you, not that you had anything to hide.

Being on your way to meet him, you felt the palms your hands getting sweaty, wiping them off on the black dress you chose to wear. Just like Rio, dark colors were your go to, often wearing dresses and skirts to show your legs. You got out of the car, walking slowly towards the red door, knocking on it lightly.

“Hey mama” a deep throaty voice startled you, making you turn around to see your boss boarding a slight smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down.

You felt your cheeks getting warmer as he motioned for you to follow him through the backyard. You got nervous for a minute but once you passed the wooden door, you saw kids running around and the smell of grilled food making your mouth water calmed you down. He walked towards the table, putting his arms around an older lady’s shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

“This is my boss” he said, looking at her, then diverting his eyes towards yours quickly

“I’m just his grandmother” she said, chuckling lightly before looking back at you. “You must be (Y/N)”

“I am” you answered, nodding softly

“Well, both of you come take your seat, you arrived just in time for dinner” she said motioning her hands towards the table, where a few plates were already laid down. Rio pulled your chair as you sat down, mumbling a quick thank you, string at him as he took the seat next to you. You were getting slightly less nervous as all of you ate your delicious food while talking and laughing.

“So how do you know my uncle?” a 10-year-old kid asked you, taking a bite of his chicken.

“She’s just a work friend, bud” Rio answered for you

“What’s she do?” the kid asked again, looking at his uncle

“Um, she helps me out” he said looking at you “That right?” Rio smirked at you as you nodded

“That all?” the guy in front of him asked, stepping into the conversation, looking devilishly at the both of you. “Heard a lot about you (Y/N)” he continued as you felt Rio getting tense beside you.

“Um yeah, that’s all” you said slightly blushing, feeling Rio’s hand on your back, rubbing it slowly. He changed the subject, knowing his cousin was making you uncomfortable. You continued eating quietly as they all laughed and talked together. You could feel his hands on your back still, pushing back your chair before excusing yourself.

“I’m sorry, is there a bathroom I could use please?” You smiled slightly at Rio’s grandma, as she gave you direction. You made your way inside, finding the bathroom easily. You did what you had to do, and washed your hands looking at yourself in the mirror, reapplying your lip gloss. You could hear the sound of their laughter from where you were, making you sight lightly.

You got out, making your way through the hallway, passing a bedroom, which seemed to be his grandmother’s. You stopped by the door, seeing some picture frames placed neatly on a bookshelf, making you walked closer into the room to look closely at them. You picked a picture of a young Rio graduating into your hands and it made you wonder what he studied. You didn’t picture him as a big school person, so you were surprised to say the least. You jumped slightly as Rio’s husky voice, interrupted you.

“What are you doing?” he said, leaning against the door frame, looking at you, deeply.

“I don’t know, I just got curious” you shrugged your shoulders, watching his every moves. He moved closer to you, making you hold your breath, nervous and aroused. He made you weak in the knees and you could hardly speak without getting flustered. Even thought you were a confident woman, his body close to yours always had that effect on you, and he knew it. You turned towards the bookcase again, feeling his firm chest pressing against your back, as he picked up a smaller picture frame, the both of you looking at it.

“You find anything interesting?” he asked, his mouth next to your ear, sending down shivers down your spine. He put the frame back, his arms brushing yours lightly, making you turn around to face him. His eyes burned into yours, waiting for your answer. You licked your lips, looking at your fumbling hands before meeting his dark eyes again

“I don’t know” you said, feeling bold you dropped both of your hands on his chest, sliding them down until they could rest on the waistband of his pants “You tell me” you stated, before unbuckling his belt.

He stopped you, grabbing your wrist softly, making you look at him a blush creeping onto your cheeks. He shook his head slightly, putting your hand down and dragging his towards your thigh. His finger danced on your soft skin, goosebumps rising onto your body. He lifted your leg slowly, resting it on his waist. His face now in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over throat, making you close your eyes, appreciating the moment. You felt his long fingers trail up to the side of your emerald, green lace panties, before making his way to your dripping core, spreading your juices, letting out a throaty groan.

The sound of him only making you wetter, his finger making its way into your warm tight flesh. A quiet moan erupted from your mouth as you grabbed his shoulder firmly, bringing him even closer to you. The room was silent, except for the sounds of his digits pumping in and out of you quickly. Your breathing was getting heavier, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, trying to keep your moans to yourself. His thumb found his way to your clit, massaging it slowly, putting just enough pressure to make your body quiver.

He inserted another finger inside of your leaking fold, fastening his pace, making you clench around him. One of your hand traveled to his neck, digging your fingers into the back of it, as he let out a deep groan next to your ear.

“R-Rio” you mumbled quietly, clenching your eyes shut, feeling your climax approaching by the second.

“I know mama” he whispered “let it go” right when the words left his lips, you felt yourself relax into his embrace, as your orgasm took over you. He helped you ride it out, pumping his fingers slowly, before removing them from your inside. You faltered your dress as he moved towards the door.

“Hurry up, you don’t want to miss dessert” he said smirking before leaving you all flustered into his grandma’s bedroom. You waited a few minutes, before following behind him, joining the others around the table outside.

“Ahhh here she is. We wondered where you’ve been” Rio’s cousin exclaimed as you sat down. “Pie?” he handed you a plate, not waiting for your reply. You took it, placing it in front of you listening to the older lady speak. As you all finished your dessert, you saw Rio from the corner of your eyes, dig his finger into the whipped cream remaining on his plate, and popping them into his mouth sucking slowly on them. You could feel his eyes on you, and you could only imagine him smirking as his tongue lapped at his finger, the same fingers that were minutes ago buried into your tight pussy. Just the thought of him tasting the remaining of your hot fluid made you clench your thighs together, Rio not missing the sight of you getting flustered again.

“Mhh … I think this must be the best dessert I’ve ever tasted”

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

Thanks for reading

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

[twilightprince101]

So I made an SCP entry for Bugsnax...

I thought with the ending and all of the disturbing stuff that this game has, it would fit perfectly with SCP stuff. Not to mention, there has to be an SCP equivalent in the Grumpus world. GCP? SGP? SCG? I dunno man, have some horror writing about muppets.

SCP-3470: Sentient Sustenance

[Heavy spoilers for Bugsnax ending]

Item #: SCP-3470 aka “Snaktooth Island”

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures:  Due to its nature of being a landmass the most SCP teams can do is obscure its location to the populus. Efforts have been made to create rumors of numerous shipwrecks--akin to SCP-605 “Bermuda Triangle”--to deter the public from exploring the location. If unauthorized ships are witnessed crossing into the restricted zone, they are to be terminated immediately.           Addendum: Due to the recent insubordination of Dr. [REDACTED]. All authorized personnel that enter or exit SCP-3470 are to be subjected to a rigorous screening process to ensure that no instances of SCP-3470-A are brought out of the restricted area without B Class Permission or higher. Further precautions being considered are a 10 minute test in which personnel seeking access to SCP-3470 are to be placed into an empty room with an instance of SCP-3470-A. If SCP personnel show any signs of wishing to consume SCP-3470-A, they are to be removed from the team immediately. Permission from Professor [REDACTED].  Is awaiting approval.

Description: SCP-3470 is a large landmass off of the coast of [REDACTED].  Spanning 50 mi^2 and nearing 1.5 mi in height. Several sections of SCP-3470 are flux in weather patterns, ranging from lush forests to arid deserts in the span of 3 miles. Although similar in appearance to locations such as  [REDACTED].  And  [REDACTED]. , further research concludes that flora are substantially different in chemical composition, containing traces of [REDACTED].  Which was only recently discovered. Due to this, nearly all flora encompassing the island are inedible, as digestion induces hazardous effects ranging from intense stomach pains to spastic vomiting. 

The most significant aspect of SCP-3470 are various instances of sentient life, which are to be referred to as SCP-3470-A-[1-100]. SCP-3470-A take appearances of common food items, such as SCP-3470-A-1 [“Strabby”] taking the form of a ripe red strawberry with what appear to be dollar store googly-eyes [all instances of SCP-3470-A share the final trait]. All instances of SCP-3470-A vary in physique, behavioral patterns and similarities to their respective food item. Each instance also appears to have a “name” that it repeats ad nauseum despite not having observable mouths or vocal chords, making them easier to classify. Chemically however all are similar, containing faint traces of  [REDACTED]. . This can be witnessed upon any attempt to alter SCP-3470-A instances from their base form, dissolving into an unknown inedible fluid, losing sentience in the process. 

Due to SCP-3470’s flora being inedible, SCP-3470-A instances become the landmass’s only source of sustenance. Consumption of SCP-3470-A induces a drastic and instance side-effect of modifying the consumer’s limbs, thereby becoming SCP-3470-B. The limbs of SCP-3470-B instances vary depending on the instance of SCP-3470-A that has been consumed, alongside how many instances have been consumed prior to said event. Fundamentally however, all limbs modified take on the appearance of whatever the SCP-3470-A instance was impersonating. The more instances a subject consumes the more of their body transforms, beginning with the hands and feet and extending to the entire torso and face. The internal functions of the body remain intact along with full autonomous control, however the structure and physique of transformed limbs change drastically, such as an SCP-3470-B instance’s arm transforming into a banana after consuming an instance of SCP-3470-A-12 [“Banooper”]. These transformations subside in time [correlating to amount of SCP-3470-A instances consumed], with SCP-3470-B limbs reverting back to their original state, containing faint traces of [REDACTED]. 

Addendum 3470-B: Increased Exposure

Proceeding with experimentation with SCP-3470-A instances under Prof. [REDACTED]. , extended exposure and consumption of SCP-3470-A instances results in increasing addictive tendencies and side effects. File below contains audio files of experiments with Personnel D-125.

<Begin Log 01, skip to 00:02:17>

Dr. [REDACTED].: D-Class 125, approach SCP 3470-A-45.

D-125: What is…? Ok, seriously what the grump is this??? Like, I signed up for this expecting a lot of horrifying stuff, but-did someone slap googly-eyes on a piece of corn?!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : 125, please approach SCP-3470-A-45.

D-125: Yeah, yeah, alright. So… (to A-45 after approach), what are you supposed to be then? Did Dr. [REDACTED].  Have their kid put their arts and crafts project on display or-

A-45: Cobhopper!

D-125: GRUMPIN WHA- IT JUST TALKED?! IT MOVED IT’S LOOKING AT ME!!!

Dr. [REDACTED].: (whispering) so much for being the ‘toughest D-class around… ‘

<Skip to 00:08:24>

D-125: So you’re telling me I just… eat it? The eyes too?

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Correct. Do not worry, upon further testing the eyes seem to be made of a material akin to valentine’s candy hearts (lie).

D-125: Huh… alright then. Down the hatch, I guess?

Sounds of eating, cries of A-45

Dr. [REDACTED].  : D-125, describe the flavor.

D-125: It’s… good actually! I was honestly expecting the insides to be guts or poison or something, but it’s actually pretty good! Nice and buttered to, a bit of salt? Reminds me of my mom’s barbeque. 

Dr. [REDACTED].  : And the sensation of your leg transforming?

D-125: Huh? (125 looks down and notices their leg transformed into a head of corn). Oh… Well this is pretty cool I guess. 

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Any uncomfortable sensations?

D-125: Not really no. It’s weird… I can still feel my toes, but it’s like a peg leg. Actually, I think I can see a few kernels wiggling if I try. Neat!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Is… that it?

D-125: Yeah I think so, *chuckles,* this is actually pretty cool!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Hmm… (To recorder) Despite initial panic from witnessing A-45, subject D-125 has adjusted to transformation with record pace. Further research required.

<End Log-01>

<Begin Log-04>

D-125: Heya doc!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Greetings D-125. Have you adjusted to recent transformations?

D-125: Yeah it’s been going alright. The pineapple hair is a pretty nice dew all things considered, and the bacon tongue makes me look like a snake. I like it!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Pleased to hear it. Now, approach SCP-3470-A-52.

D-125: Alright, what’s on the menu today then? Who’re you little guy?

A-52: Sodi-D Sodi-D!

D-125: Huh, a drink this time. Change of pace I guess.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Please consume A-52.

D-125: Right away ma’am. Sir. Whatever.

Sound of soda can opening and drinking, cries of A-52.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : (To recorder) Upon the first drop of A-52’s fluid, transformation has already occurred, transforming the subject's ears into what appear to be soda can tabs. No further transformations appear to occur on consecutive gulps-wha (To D-125) Sir?!

Sounds of crunching, further cries of A-52, then silence.

D-125: Not bad! I don’t usually drink soda, beer’s more my thing personally, but it was pretty sweet! Just the right amount of sugar. And hey, new accessory!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : ...D-125, why did you eat A-52’s shell?

D-125: Huh?

Dr. [REDACTED].  : The… the can. Nobody has attempted to consume the can.

D-125: Oh. Uh… 

Silence for 7 seconds 

D-125: I dunno, I guess since the eyes were edible on the other guys, I thought the can would be here? Wasn’t too hard to eat, kinda like biting into ice. Didn’t hurt.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Very… interesting. This will be recorded for future experiments, thank you D-125.

D-125: No prob. And hey, call me Chuffee.

<End Log-04>

<Begin Log-09, skip to 00:09:54>

D-125: Hehey, candy corn teeth! Pretty sharp too, should make eating these things even easier!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : D-125, you’re nearing complete bodily transformation. Have you been experiencing any discomfort as of late? Any anomalies?

D-125: Nope, in fact I feel great! I used to have this crink in my back for the longest time, but now it’s gone! I’m more limber than I’ve been in ages!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Fascinating… very well then, thank you for your time.

D-125: ...wait, what? That’s it?

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Hm?

D-125: There isn’t any more left? I thought there would be a bit more.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : *sigh,* D-125, we’ve went over this last time. We cannot give you more than one instance a day due to 3470-A’s high caloric count. The instance you just ate was over twenty th-

D-125: You know you keep saying that. Didn’t you guys want to really figure out what’s with these things? When I ate that soda can you said yourself that nobody’s tried that before, so let’s go further! I’m still hungry anyways, I’m craving a burger if you got any like that.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Sir, please exit the room. I cannot give you any more than what I am authorized.

D-125: ……..You know, it’s interesting how your window is so high up there. I can hardly see you.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : ...excuse me?

D-125: You heard me [REDACTED].  , I can barely see you from down here. You can see exactly how I change, the new stuff I get… but I can’t see yours.

Silence for 15 seconds.

<End Log-09>

<Begin Log-10, skip to 00:11:02>

D-125: I know you’re holding out on me up there [REDACTED].  .

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Sir, I’ve told you countless times already. I can’t give you any more than I’m authorized.

D-125: (Sarcasm) Oh yeah, suuure. For all I know you guys are feasting away on these things up there, while leaving me for dust! Like seriously, a single popcorn kernel?! That’s it?!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Sir, that is all I can give you today. Please exi-

Sound of a door opening

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Wh- Professor [REDACTED].  ?

Professor [REDACTED].  : Hello D-125. 

D-125: Oh great, another snob to tell me what to do. If you aren’t gonna feed me, then just shut up already! My stomach’s growling like crazy, and I’m not leaving until I get my meal!

Professor [REDACTED].  : Not to worry D-125, I’m fully prepared to grant your wish.

D-125: ...wait, really?

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Professor, what are you-

Professor [REDACTED].  : I listened to the log of your previous meal, and you raised a good point. If we at the SCP foundation wish to fully understand what these creatures are capable of, we must push the boundaries of what we believe are possible. So then…

(Sound of metal grinding, several overlapping cries of SCP-3470-A instances)

D-125: Oh, my…

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Professor, what are you doing?

Professor [REDACTED].  : Eat until you can’t eat anymore. Consider it my treat, to you.

D-125: Ooohohohohoooo yes!!! Now we’re talking!!! Come to papa little guys!!!

<Skip to 00:32:59>

Professor [REDACTED].  : Subject so far has consumed 34 instances of 3470-A. Since consuming number 21 he has shown increased signs of vigor, despite eating half of his body mass. 

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Professor, please, stop him. This is-

Professor [REDACTED].  : (continuing) Upon complete transformation of limbs to SCP 3470-B instances, any further consumption appears to override a prior one. His leg, previously resembling a head of corn has transformed now into a roll of sushi. His tongue, once a strip of bacon, now a wad of chips.

D-125: (While eating) Mmmph! Oh my god, what are you a jar of pickles! More the merrier!

Sound of sloppy gulping, glass crunching, cries of SCP-3470-A-35

D-125: Ooogh, some noodles too! Love japanese food!

Sounds of rapid slurping, rapid glass crunching and licking.

Professor [REDACTED].  : Subject appears to have increased vigor in consuming 3470-A instances, not leaving a single crumb or shard left uneaten. A query: what is the chemical makeup of instances contained in glass jars or bowls? The bowls themselves? Further research required.

<Skip to 01:42:47>

Dr. [REDACTED]. : Chuffee please, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!

Rapid, feral sounds of crunching and slurping.

Professor [REDACTED].  : Subject has now eaten approximately eaten 1.5 times his body mass yet continues to feat, now with no regards for table manners whatsoever. I have already called for a janitor to wait outside.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Chuffee stop!! You-

Laughter, slowly increasing in volume

D-125: This!! This is the best I’ve eaten in my entire life!!!

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Chuffee please-O-oh… oh my-

Professor [REDACTED].  : Subject’s left ear has disconnected itself from its host. There appear to be no signs of blood or even markings indicating he has had one at all-there goes a tooth!

D-125: Hooooh I knew you all were holding back on me!!! This stuff is delicious, amazing, spectacular!!! I’ll never go hungry again, no more rotting on the streets!!! This is all mine, you hear me?! Mine, MINE, MINE!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH

Laughter continues for several seconds, sounds of objects falling to floor as volume slowly decreases, ending with a loud clatter.

Dr. [REDACTED].  : Ch-Chuffee, I- urp!

Sound of vomiting

Professor [REDACTED].  : Subject, after eating nearly twice his body mass, has had each limb separate from his core torso one by one, now fully resembling their respective food items, until his eyes transformed into SCP-3470-B instance, resembling the mixed nuts that made up his head. Soon after, his torso and head fell apart, scattering into mixed-nuts. I can not recognize Subject D-125 in the slurry.

More sounds of vomiting

Professor [REDACTED].  : These results are quite fascinating. Further research is required into these various side effects. End tape.

<End Log-10>

[alpacaparkaseok]

Pairing: doctor!Jungkook x reader (ok, technically clinical technician!Jungkook lol)

Wordcount: 1.6k

Genre/Rating: Fluff! strangers to friends to a lil’ more 👀👀

Tags/Warnings: mentions blood just for a moment (when talking about JK’s work). shouldn’t be anything too crazy, Jungkook is just your annoying new neighbor that sings abnoxiously loud in the shower. oh, and did I mention that the two of you share a wall? 

a/n: You wonderful, beautiful people! This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click here to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! And THANK YOU @ezralia-writes for commissioning this! *insert round of applause and flowers* I hope you enjoy!

April 23rd

You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

You’d been living in utter bliss for the past six months, having moved across the city to a relatively quiet part of town. You had a neighbor; you were sure of it. Had seen their car in the parking lot too many times to not have one.

It’s just, you never heard them. Let alone saw them.

Which was completely fine. The loud, obnoxious lifestyle people usually adopted in a city as bustling as Seoul had never suited you anyway. For six months, you basked in the glorious silence from your next door neighbor. The only signal that you ever got that they were even there was the occasional time you’d both be showering at the same time. Your bathrooms shared a wall, which you tried to ignore. Thankfully, your neighbor seemed to ignore it as well.

So why is there a man suddenly belting out I Will Always Love You as though performing a one-man tribute to Whitney Houston?

The sound of his booming voice nearly knocked you off your feet as you made quick work of shaving your legs. Surely he must have heard your shower running! Can’t a woman get some peace and quiet on a Friday morning?! There’s nothing to celebrate yet!

You even make a point of clearing your throat loud enough to be heard on the other side of the wall, but he doesn’t falter in his loud, albeit dazzling, rendition of the song. He pauses for a second, giving you just enough time to let out a sigh of relief and begin on your other leg.

Leg soapy and ready to be shaved, you make it halfway through one swipe before the singing starts up again.

He only paused to switch songs. Whitney Houston tribute over, he begins a passionate ode to Adele’s greatest hits.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You sigh, resolving to finish up before the song is over and you’re subjected to another.

May 1st

           It begins innocently enough. After a week of subjecting you to his siren-like voice, there’s a knock on your door. Of course, you assume it’s the food you’d ordered, so you just finish throwing your sweatshirt on before wrenching the door open.

           “Hey,” you look up to tell the deliverer that you just need to grab your wallet, but your mouth runs dry at the sight before you.

           Grinning with a friendly smile that might be a bit of overkill, a boy – nah, a whole man if we’re being honest here – gives you a sheepish wave. His long brown hair is falling into his eyes, which he meticulously brushes off to the side.

           “Hey! You must be my neighbor!” When you keep staring at him with what you hope is a look of neutrality, he flushes a deep red. “I- er, I mean, obviously. That was kind of dumb of me…”

           “You’re not the food guy?” It’s the only you can think to say, willing your eyes to focus in on his face and not the way his sweatshirt and sweats look on him. “Uh…I mean, yeah. Neighbors.”

           The man before you lets out an adorable chuckle at your silly comment. “Oh, good. I’m not the only awkward one here.”

           “Woah! I’m not awkward! I’m just hungry!” You cry out, making him only laugh harder.

           “I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, nose crinkling as you look at him with wide eyes. So this is what was on the other side of the wall, belting out Mariah Carey this morning. “I just moved in last week, and realized that I haven’t even come over to say hello. You know, like a friendly neighbor should.”

           “Hey, Jungkook.” You look around, wondering if there’s anyone else outside witnessing this incredibly awkward first meeting. “I, uh, well…I’m me.”

           He snorts. “Yeah, I know. I’m assuming your name is the one on the mailbox? Next to mine?”

           We have mailboxes??

           “Oh, ha! Yeah, that’d be it.” You shuffle back and forth on your feet, unsure of what to say next. “Well, I thought you were the delivery service-“

           “I just delivered food, too!” Jungkook says with a grin. He runs his hands up and down his arms even though it’s not cold outside. “I was thinking that…you know, we could eat together? I actually ended up ordering extra, but it looks like that wasn’t necessary.”

           You grin, settling against your doorframe. “Ah, so you’re here to woo me with takeout? You should’ve just said so.”

           It looks like Jungkook’s considering moving again. He swallows thickly, eyes flitting over to you before staring down at your floor. “Actually…I heard you watching TV…were you watching Wanda Vision?” When you nod, he sucks in a breath. “It’s just, I haven’t bought a TV yet, and-“

          “Oh, tough luck. Good luck with that.” You burst out into a fit of giggles at the tentative look in his eyes. Silently forgiving him for all those mornings that doubled as musicals over the past week, you wing the door open a little wider and gesture for him to come inside. “Come in, I need someone to bounce theories off anyways.”

           That’s all it takes before Jungkook is bounding inside, settling down on your couch with an air of comfortability that seems so at odds with his shy nature. Then again, everything about him seems to contradict his shy smile.

           You like it.

June 2nd

What originally started as a simple friendship; Jungkook brought food and you let him have the remote; quickly turned into constant interaction. You learned that he had a roommate that was hardly ever home named Taehyung. He has a brother that he visits every other month. He works as clinical technician, but he’s known more for his beautiful voice more than his title as doctor.

Apparently he was known in the lab for singing little lullabies to the glass flasks containing different samples of blood and other fluids, even occasionally chatting with them as though they were avidly listening.

The more you learned, the more you really wished your old neighbor never moved out in the first place. Especially as you slipped on some shoes to take out the trash one night only to run face first into a familiar chest.

“Jungkook,” you groan, rubbing your nose and peeking up at the boy-like grin he wears. “What was that for?“

You step around him, closing the door to your apartment and heading down the stairs to where the dumpsters were located. “My bad. I was just about to knock.”

He matches your stride, hair whipping about in the wind. You realize that he’s wearing his lab coat, making you furrow your brows. “Aren’t you supposed to leave that at the lab?” You ask, pointing to the white coat.

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his coat as though just remembering that he was still wearing it. “Oh, well I have to wash it, you know. I brought it home with me today.”

“Ok…but why are you still wearing it?” You give him a half-smile as he reaches to open the lid to the dumpster, allow you to throw your trash inside.

Jungkook blinks, as though this latest question completely threw him for a loop. “Uh…I thought it might help.”

“With what?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You think doctors are sexy, don’t you?”

           “What?!” You choke out quite literally, beginning to cough. “Who- I never said that!”

           Jungkook grins maliciously. “Yeah, but I heard you watching Grey’s Anatomy the other day. And it was on your recently watched.”

           You begin to walk away, waving him off. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jungkook. So what? It’s just a show.”

           Running ahead of you, Jungkook bounds up the first few steps before turning around to face you again, effectively cutting off your escape route. “Be honest. You don’t find them the least bit sexy? This coat does nothing for you?” He runs his hands down the lapels for emphasis.

           You attempt to push past him. “What is even happening today?” Jungkook stops you in your tracks, hands on your upper arms and trapping you against the railing.

           “I thought I might as well give myself a chance,” he mumbles, head tilted to one side as he takes in the way you’re staring up at him with utter confusion. “Don’t you wanna go out with a doctor?”

           You blink slowly. “You…you’re setting me up with a doc-“

           “Yah!” Jungkook groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many way do I have to say it? I want you to be the Wanda to my Vision!”            “Jungkook, we’ve talked about this…” you sigh, hiding your laugh at his impatience. “They have a toxic relationship, why would I want that?”

           “Don’t make me do this!” Jungkook whines, cheeks turning pink. “Just tell me yes or no!”

           “To what?” You ask, feigning ignorance. “I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

           “Nooo, you do,” Jungkook presses in closer as though that’ll help you understand. “I want you and I to…to…you know, I think we’d be good together.”

           You frown. “Aren’t we together right now?”

           “I swear-“ Jungkook takes a step back, sighing up at the sky. You snap your fingers, having a sudden epiphany.

           “Oh, you mean together like we start singing duets in the morning through the wall?”

           He blinks before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “I…yeah! Exactly!”

           “No. But I will let you take me out on a date.” You give him a long look. “I’ve never been kissed by a doctor before, you know.”

           Jungkook turns an impressive shade of red. “O-oh. You haven’t?”

           “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’. Turning to head up the stairs, you leave him in his shock. “Wonder what it’s like.”

           Taking off in a run, you only get about a two second head start before Jungkook overtakes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close, wide eyes eating up every inch of your skin.

           Tilting your chin up, he breathes out, “Well, why don’t we change that?”

masterlist

commission a request!

[lick-me-lennon22]

George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

 

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

 

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

[brittledame]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐮 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮/𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐩, 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬), 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟏𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬' 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲!

Rare is the day that Shirabu’s schedule is cleared and even more rarely does Shirabu indulge himself and permit that day to be spent loafing about instead of working on something else that demanded his attention. Usually you’d be all for it, but this one time it isn’t working in your favour.

“Babe, c’mon you need to get up and get dressed.” You had briefly tossed up if it’d be worth the griping you’d be subjected to if you just dragged him from the blankets, before deciding against it.

Shirabu spares a glance down at his sweats and battered jersey top that’s seen much better days and arches a brow at you. “I’m already dressed. If I put more on, you wouldn’t be able to see me.”

Rolling your eyes at his snark, you tug at his hand, resorting to pleading.

“Please get dressed in proper clothes.”

Shirabu doesn’t budge from his splayed out position on the bed, where he’s happily spent all afternoon. You eye the bed longingly. It took you forever to extricate yourself from him this morning, after he convinced you spend an extra hour cuddling before being forced out by responsibilities that you couldn’t shirk like Shirabu had.

“Why? It’s not like we have to go anywhere.” Kenjirou rebukes. It’s the first birthday since his eighteenth that he’s had the day off and by god is he going to make the most of it by doing absolutely nothing at all.

By sheer determination, you will your face to remain blank and your muscles to not lock up.

“Still, we might get unexpected company. You know what your family is like,” you reason, giving up on persuading him out of bed and try a new tactic. Perched on the edge of the mattress, you run a hand through tousled burnished gold locks and watch as he relaxes into your touch with a quiet sigh.

Got’cha, you cheer inwardly.

“They’ve seen me in worst.” Shirabu mumbles, not giving you a single inch to work with. Your shoulders drop with an exasperated groan.

“Shirabu Kenjirou,” you admonish, putting on your best no-nonsense voice. Immediately Shirabu tenses right back up and cracks open his eye to gauge how much shit he’s in. The way he sits up, folding his legs up tells you that your aggravation is apparent.

“I hate it when you say my name like that,” he quietly admits, gaze dropping to stare at the mattress and your heart follows it.

Wrapping his calloused hands in yours and raising them to your mouth, you deliver a kiss to each knuckle, an apology that causes the characteristically stoic man’s cheeks to flare a rosy pink.

“I’m sorry.” The apology comes out mumbled against his skin, but it soothed that residual anxiety Shirabu harboured, nonetheless. “I really – and I mean really – need you to get dressed in something nice. Smart casual would be preferable.”

“I thought we agreed to no fancy dinners.” He accuses, brows furrowing. He disliked the idea that on top of your already busy schedule that you arranged something like that just for him. It took a lot of convincing on his end to get you to agree to an easy day with no big celebrations.

“It’s not a fancy dinner.” You automatically shoot it down and Shirabu’s shoulders sag with untold relief.

“Good,” he leans forward and presses a loud kiss into your lips, making it impossible not to laugh as he pulls you into his lap. “Because I have plans for you tonight.”

“Is that so?” You tease, running your lips across his jaw, eliciting a delicious shiver from him. “Because I do too.”

“Oh?”

You hum agreeingly into his ear, tangling your fingers into his hair and gently tug his head backwards to place a kiss directly on top of his Adam’s apple. You watch with blatant pleasure as it dips downwards at your touch and a shaky sigh leaves his mouth.

The slowly simmering atmosphere is immediately shattered, pulling Kenjirou back into the cruel hands of gravity, as you let the festering secret slip out.

“Yup, Taichi and your mum planned something for you at your mum’s place.”

“What the fuck.” Came the unsurprising response.

You reluctantly let him remove your hands from his hair and pull away to meet his less than impressed expression. You offer a skewed smile and an apologetic shrug.

“I tried to convince them, but they wouldn’t listen.” You explain, frowning to yourself. “You would not believe how hard it was to keep the guest list under fifty. Your mum wanted to invite all your work associates and even had me look up their contact details online.” You add.

Kenjirou cringed at the thought. There was no way in hell he could enjoy the night if his colleagues were present. Kenjirou didn’t care what anyone said, a hospital was not immune from the clique-like mentality of most commercial industries – hell, he’d even argue that it was worse.

“Well that’s good to know. Thanks for the head’s up.” He says sarcastically and you playfully bat his shoulder.

“Hey! Your brothers had me under solemn oath to not tell you, so please act surprised otherwise I owe them two thousand yen.”

“Why would you do that? Just tell them to leave you alone.” He flops back against the bed and stares up at the ceiling, evaluating how much social energy he had to spare and calculating how long is socially acceptable to stay at his own party before ditching it for his own plans.

You could practically see the gears churning away in his head, so you toss away the argument that his little brothers are just as tenacious, if not more so, as their eldest brother that they secretly idolised.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, hating the tension flooding back into his form, replacing the fluid lax that he rarely possesses. Pressing a hand against his chest and using it as leverage, you kiss him on the lips, sealing your regret into his skin.

Cupping your face, he prevents you from moving back. The corners of his mouth tick up at the imploring look you give him.

“What time do we need to leave?”

“Um,” that wasn’t what you were expecting but it was better than the dreadful cold shoulder. “Five o’clock if we want to not break any laws getting to your parent’s place in time.”

Kenjirou glances at his alarm and finds that it’s barely past four.

“Plenty of time then.” He says, wrapping his arm tighter around you and forcing you to meet the growing smirk spelling out disaster for the hairstyle you had painstakingly pinned up.

Oh well, you’re sure the party won’t mind if the guest of honour is a handful of minutes late.

[weirdlittlecorner]

Lin Kuei Hospitality: Cyrax

Notes: nsfw, 18+, comfort

Plot: A little slower, a little more sensual. Because Cyrax is a great character and deserves more attention and love

h/t = hair texture

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

—

The five men stood patiently as they awaited your decision. There was no doubt that any of them would show you a good time, which only made it harder to choose. You pursed your lips as you considered your options. Eventually, your attention shifted to the man in yellow. His dark skin and beautiful hair made him stand out as the most handsome of the men. But funnily enough, it wasn’t just his looks that drew your eyes to him. His demeanor was much different than the others. While he was standing at attention, as disciplined as the rest, there was a small crack in his stone exterior. As if he were in pain, though there was obviously nothing hurting him. That you could see, anyway.

It was almost as if he couldn’t stand being in the others’ vicinity. You wondered what could have happened to warrant such a reaction. This was the first time that you had ever seen any of the warriors up close, so you had nothing to go off of. It was most likely just some petty drama that was common amongst roommates- if they could even be considered as such. It would make the most sense. You, too, had your friends that you loved dearly, but you couldn’t imagine actually living with them every day. Either way, it wasn’t your place to pry.

The Grandmaster cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward the line of men once more. Clearly wanting you to hasten and pick one so the rest could return to their business. Offering the dark-skinned man a warm smile, you nodded, “Come on, let’s get out of here,”

—

“Thank you for my new buzzsaw. I was able to try it out today; your work is very impressive,” The man, Cyrax, whispered as the two of you made your way through the long corridor to get back to your room. You smiled at the compliment, though that nagging confusion didn’t allow you to fully enjoy his words. His new buzzsaw. The one that had been amongst the new additions to the Grandmaster’s standard request.

What exactly did a clan like the Lin Kuei need all this new technology for? Again, it really wasn’t your business what your clients did with your products. But you couldn’t help but wonder... Whatever was going on, you just hoped that it was at least somewhat ethical.

__

The impending ‘improvements’ were a sensitive subject amongst the warriors. Cyrax had taken the most offense to the idea, as any normal person would, yet his fellow assassins thought that he was the crazy one. No, what was crazy was forcing one to give up their free will in exchange for the efficiency of automation. But he didn’t dare challenge the Grandmaster. Doing so would result in the most severe punishment; as if becoming a fusion of flesh and metal wasn’t already punishment enough.

“Hey, I noticed that you kind of… seem at odds with the others. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” You broke the silence, sinking down onto the bed and patting the space next to you. He claimed the empty space, sitting close enough so that your knees touched.

By the way his brows knitted together, you half-expected him to tell you. But he merely shook his head after a moment, “I am not at liberty to speak on the matter. But thank you for your concern,” His voice was even and had that same cold quality that was the standard, but you could tell that there was great sadness behind his words.

Instinctively, you opened your arms out to him, willing him to position himself in between them. You weren’t really sure what you had expected to happen, but soon enough, Cyrax was locked in your warm embrace. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the silent comfort of each other’s embrace. But soon you felt his shoulders stiffen, along with a kiss being pressed to the base of your neck.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” While you had been excited for tonight’s proposed activities, now was obviously not a great time. You wouldn’t ask him to perform for you just because it was what the Grandmaster had ordered. He needed, deserved, a break. And while you would certainly enjoy the contact, you refused to degrade the man. But he clearly didn’t think the same way. Not when his face was still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I understand that. This is something I want to do,” His words made you shiver as renewed excitement tore through your abdomen. Well, in that case…

A rough hand quickly found its way into your h/t, h/c locks, effectively undoing the delicate hairstyle. A pleasured shiver wracked your body as he used your hair to bring you closer to him as you two shared your first kiss of the night. You hummed as the tip of your tongue darted out to drag itself across his bottom lip, granting you an elicit moan in return.

Without breaking the intense oral lock, Cyrax’ hands freed themselves from the mess of hair in favor of untying the knots in your overshirt. You moved your dominant hand to assist him in the process while your other hand remained cupping his face. Shrugging to remove the fabric from your shoulders, you reluctantly pulled away to unclasp your bra. Seeing that you had things under control, Cyrax removed himself to focus on shedding his own clothing. But not before giving a hard, playful tug on the hems of your pants, effectively pooling them around your ankles.

A giggle slipped past your parted lips as you bent down, yanking your pants, along with your panties, off the rest of the way and kicking off your boots. You repositioned yourself so that your knees pressed against the soft sheets as you returned the favor to your partner. Eager fingertips clawed at the form-fitting armor, as if that would make it disappear faster. Cyrax hummed in amusement at your eagerness before unbuttoning the clasps and untying the knots for you. Impatience turned into wonder as your hands brushed over his chest. His abs. His shoulders. All of which were hard bands of muscle, but also soft in a way. Even his body reflected the gentle demeanor that had separated him from the others. The two of you were content to sit just like this, fingers exploring each other’s bodies.

You embraced each other, much like how you had done previously. Though this time, the intention was very different. The warmth radiating off of the two of you was almost unbearable, but you ignored it as you took to kissing each one of his prominent muscles. He sighed softly, enjoying your impromptu muscle worship. This continued until the pooling heat in your respective pelvises won out and you just had to go further. Cyrax shifted so that his legs boxed in your hips. Pressing himself against you once more, he brought his lips down to your manubrium to plant soft kisses in the crevice of your breasts. Meanwhile, his right hand was making quick work of his pants and boxers, his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. Which, if you might add, was already slick with your dripping arousal.

There was obviously no need to pregame, as you were both more than ready. You didn’t think that you could tolerate more teasing, anyway. Impatient once again, you wrapped your hand around the head of his penis to guide him in. The man groaned as your walls began compressing his cock immediately. With a few more pushes, he was completely in, reveling in the feeling of being consumed by your flesh.

Sighing, your arms found their way around his broad shoulders as he began thrusting into your tight core. The sounds of your mutual pleasure were only slightly louder than the creaking sounds the bedposts made as they scratched the wall behind them. Your e/c eyes closed in bliss as you enjoyed the rocking sensation of intercourse. His lips found yours once more as his speed increased and his hands made their way to your s/c legs. In a fluid motion, your ankles were craned toward the headboard as he pushed himself deeper. The sensation of your cervix being stroked caused you to scream, and you were glad that no one could hear you. You hoped not, anyway. What were once your gentle fingertips rubbing your lover’s back turned into talons that began clawing at the tingling flesh.

If it had hurt, he didn’t complain. But despite your muddled concerns, the feeling of you scratching his back only enhanced the warrior’s experience. He grunted each time your hips met, feeling his climax approaching. And you were right there with him, your smaller body trembling as the familiar knot twisted in your stomach. It kept building, and building until the knot finally uncoiled itself with a burst of wet heat. It felt as if the sun had just imploded inside of you and that you should be a pile of ash. But you were whole, despite the thick dick that was still stretching your pussy relentlessly.

Your screaming had grown impossibly louder as the warrior continued to batter your walls in anticipation of his own orgasm. What seemed like endless abuse to your cervix abruptly ended when you felt a spray of liquid spattering against the muscle. Your lover grunted, his brown eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip bleeding from his teeth cutting through the skin, as he hosed your insides with his warm semen.

Despite having finished, Cyrax made no move to pull out. Rather, he chose to rest over top of you, his cock warm inside your trembling hole. You allowed it.

There were no words. Maybe when you could think clearly again, you would be able to find your voice. It might be a little hoarse, to accompany the ache that would surely be present when you tried to walk in the morning, but that sounded like just that: a morning problem.

[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.