#but man idk maybe there is something to be said for the cycle seemingly repeating but things are JUST different enough to be better

[the-priestess-of-dawn]

Actually though now I AM getting the urge to essaypost about the sacrifice ending because... it occurs to me that perhaps "For once, I'm glad you and I are the same." might be a more significant line than I ever realized... If the Chrom ending represents Robin fundamentally changing as a person, then the sacrifice ending represents them NOT changing... but Chrom is insistent in both endings that Robin will always belong with him and the Shepherds. In the sacrifice ending, Robin comes back from death because of the strength of their bonds... but what does that mean?

You know, if you look at Medeus's death quotes in Shadow Dragon and New Mystery...

“Nngh… Defeated again… by humans! Know this, Altean prince… That light which surrounds you is only a temporary respite. So long as the darkness in your hearts continues to sustain me… I cannot be… destroyed…… Rrraaahhh!!!”

“GWAH…! WHY……? WHY… HAVE I… BEEN DEFEATED… SO EASILY…? IS THIS… THE POWER… …OF NAGA'S… Binding Shield…? KNOW THIS, HUMANS… THIS LIGHT IS ONLY A BRIEF RESPITE… SO LONG AS EVIL LURKS WITHIN THE HEARTS OF MAN… SHOULD THIS ACCURSED SHIELD BE LOST, WE SHALL RISE FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL… DO NOT… EVER FORGET…”

It seems to me that Medeus is saying that human hearts have the power to bring him back. I mean, yes, it could very easily be a metaphor. In fact, I think it largely IS figurative, but... The point is that this shit keeps happening because humans want it to happen, right? Like, Medeus was resurrected by GHARNEF; he basically just seized the opportunity this human gave him. Why wouldn't he expect it to happen again someday?

And Grima, of course, was revived by the Grimleal. We've got no word on whether Grima wanted their followers to do this after their original defeat (in fact, technically we do not not even know whether Grima consented to giving any humans their blood. It COULD be that they bestowed it on their followers as a show of favor. I also absolutely would not put it past the Grimleal to have collected Grima's spilled blood after the final battle with the First Exalt and used it for their own purposes... Especially because I do think that's most likely what Forneus did with Naga's blood to create Grima in the first place.). Regardless, Grima answered their followers' call and did exactly what they were asked to do.

And then we have Robin coming back. I think most of us presume that there was no specific revival ritual, but... still, fundamentally, isn't the same principle at play? The Shepherds called and they were answered. And Robin came back as Robin, Brandless and free from the power of the fell dragon, because that is who their loved ones asked for, and that is who Robin wanted to be, and I think in a world where magic exists then it makes perfect sense that a strong enough wish could literally manifest as a spell. (Tharja says in her supports with Ricken that "Curses are a kind of magic that gives life to dreams." so I'm inclined to think that this is very much how magic is intended to work.)

So the sacrifice ending becomes a twist on the cycle. Because the thing is, Robin chose destruction. Robin chose to use their power as Grima to bring about a final end—only in this world their conclusion is not that the world is unable to change and therefore must be destroyed, but that THEY are what cannot change and must be destroyed. "For once, I'm glad you and I are the same." They are embracing it. They are the fell dragon and they can't change but they can do the one thing they always do and destroy. This OUGHT to be a tragic ending where we're all left with the bitter feeling that nothing the hero OR the villain did ever truly mattered at all.

But we're challenging fate, right?

And the thing that Robin has that their future self did not is, of course, all the Shepherds reaching out for them. The original timeline Shepherds thought that Robin betrayed Chrom and then... presumably ran off to serve Grima or whatever (since nobody knows that Robin BECAME Grima). And so there was no one to beg Grima to come back and be with them. No shared wish strong enough to create a miracle. The tragedy played out straightforwardly.

But it was never inevitable. The tragedy didn't happen because there is something inherently wrong with Grima's being. Of course it didn't. They were not alone because they were unlovable but because Validar and the Grimleal had everything set up to ensure that Grima could not do anything but turn to them. ("These followers of Naga will spurn you now that they've learned what you are. Kill me, and you incur the wrath of the Grimleal as well… Would you truly choose to be so utterly alone?" Validar knew exactly what he was doing.)

So with the sacrifice ending... perhaps we're really saying that Robin never needed to change. That even if they never give up this perspective of theirs—that they're a no-good and repulsive being, that they're powerless to change anything, that all they can do is destroy—they're loved anyway, and there is room for them in the world no matter what.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-five: biting kink

>>> oh yeah i got a new laptop! went back in and reformatted the other days so hopefully they aren't an eyesore but we back on track with choso here :)) he's so.....yum...he's so....biting coded idk

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sorta dark content just to be safe, biting, a little blood, one spank, spitting, oral (f!receiving), doggy, uh kinda yandere coded i suppose, one kinda baby-trapping comment >>> wc: 3.3k >>> event masterlist:

choso is a family oriented man. it’s at the core of who he is, and everyone knows how important his family is to him—no matter how small said family was. his brother yuji meant a lot to him as his only “blood” relation and closest friend. he loves the guy more than anything. or, he thought he did. that was easy to say until he met you of course. choso was new to life despite his soul being over a hundred years old, and he had never experienced the emotions you bring him. the joy, the excitement, the true love. it amazes him and he’s still not quite used to all of it just yet, despite the several years that you’ve been together. 

you met through yuji during the height of his woes of war and the inner battles he fought against his own cursed brain—toeing the line between human and monster. at some point, he made peace with not belonging. he knew that yuji loves him and that was really all he needed. he didn’t have to relate to yuji’s struggles. his perfectly human issues, like running behind on laundry now that fushiguro is on a mission and isn’t hounding him to do it. he didn’t have to relate to the emotions of love and worry and anxiety or jealousy, not until yuji introduced him to a fellow sorcerer—a kyoto school alumni. you were radiant. like a captive ray of sunshine. he hadn’t experienced such warmth in his chest, blossoming across his face. what was this? he missed your name. he was too busy panicking over introducing himself and how he would do so that he’s already made a complete fool of himself by the time he bows at the shoulders and gives you a gentle whisper of his name. 

you miss his name too, he was much too quiet. you look to yuji, and he clarifies. “my brother, choso. the one i was telling you about!” he pats your back, and you do remember him telling you about his older sibling. by the time choso’s lifted back to his regular posture, he’s convinced yuji’s probably only revealed the most embarrassing things about him and that you would be put off just by the knowledge of what he is. but when he looks at you again, you’re smiling. you give him your hand instead of bowing, repeating your name and cheerfully offering to show him around kyoto city. 

he was so glad he accepted. that warmth in his chest never went away. you were so addictive. you didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness and you seemingly took pleasure in teaching him any gaps he had yet to experience. that day, when you showed him around the city–he had no clue what it was that he felt for you. he followed you around your town, touring shops and exploring scenery with you, with no trace of embarrassment. you were easy to get along with, naturally talkative and entertaining—he learned a lot about you that night. you were captivating. you were standing at a natural pond, pointing out some cranes and spouting off facts about their mating cycles. he had no clue what half of it really meant, but he liked the sound of your voice and the excitement shimmering in your eyes. he knew he wanted to feel this warmth again. he never wanted it to go away—his body was buzzing with the feeling of being alive. he’d never had that before. it was you, it had to be you, maybe that was your cursed technique. but either way, choso was hooked. 

“you’re beautiful.” he blurted out in the middle of your educational rant, and he’s not sure what made him say so. clearly you were gorgeous—but the confidence to confess it was something he was sure he would lack forever. maybe his brother had rubbed off on him, after all yuji was very outward with his affection for his boyfriend. but you weren’t choso’s anything. he just met you. and if he hadn’t left an awful first impression, he was sure he had made things way to awkward for a first interaction now. 

but you giggle. he likes the sound. it was warm like that feeling in his chest. you turn to give him your attention then, and he really gets to see the gentleness in your eyes. so free of judgment, so soft as they look over him. he’s sure he’s blushing again. 

“so are you.” you grin, one side of your mouth higher than the other. he’s entranced by it. but he’s not the only one affected by this first time encounter. you were amazed by his kindness. he was easy and gentle, not to mention ethereally gorgeous.he was tall and broad, and even though he was covered head to toe, you could tell by the veins in his hands that nothing but strength and muscle lurked beneath his oversized sweater. 

that really sent him reeling. what does he say to that? he’s never been in this position before and yuji certainly didn’t give him any pointers. he could only follow his overly-forward example in his established relationship. “i like you. i want to see you again.” he tucks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his boots over some dirt. 

“like a date?” you ask, brow raised and hopeful. it had only been a few hours of wandering together but you liked the calm tranquility he brought—along with that strikingly handsome face. 

date. date? he knows what that is, he remembers something about these. it’s where couples spend time together! but you weren’t a couple yet, so… was that different? he could ask later, right now you stare up at him expectantly—and he can’t say no to that look on your face. “yes. romance.” he nods, and you smile softly at the attempt.

though romance you he did. he must have learned a lot in the weeks leading up to your official first date, because from that point on choso never ceased to amaze you. he surely didn’t know everything about being a boyfriend, but you made things pretty easy on him. he mostly acted off of instinct, and where that failed him–you made sure to keep him informed on how to love, console, talk through his feelings, and navigate any other bump in the road along the way of your beautiful three years together. 

you taught him how to embrace his intimacy, too. and boy, is that his favorite way of loving you. he is clingy and possessive–you’re the only person alive who could evoke such neediness from him, of course he wants to stay near you always and make his claim on you as visible as possible. hasn’t he already established how beautiful you are? i mean your nature and beauty alone was enough to bring someone like him out of his shell. he can only imagine what effect you must have on lesser men. 

he never imagined that lesser men would include your male coworker— partner. even worse. he may be unfamiliar with several things that this life has to offer, but the concept of a work husband was not lost on him. especially when it comes time to pick you up that day. choso always liked to pick you up. he liked to see you as soon as possible number one, and number two he liked to make sure his presence was still well noted around your infested office. he picked a good day to stop by, apparently. your partner had you trapped in your chair—his body wedged between your desk and any escape. choso could tell by the look in his eye that his intentions were anything but pure–and clearly the healing bruises peeking up over your collar weren’t enough to let the pervert know that you were more than spoken for. 

you could feel his energy as soon as he rounded the corner, and your relief was clear. you slump into your seat, ready for your loving boyfriend’s rescue from this horribly awkward conversation. your relief doesn’t last long. the look on your boyfriend’s face was that of pure rage, his eyes a dark purple flame. your pesky coworker seems to feel the perilous stare. he wheels around to be met with the boyfriend you warned him about, and he opens his mouth to make excuses. 

“leave. don’t talk to her again.” he utters from your doorway, making sure the man had to walk past him to obey his requests. “want kids one day?” he threatens, raising his brow, his face a nasty scowl. the guy backs aways from you immediately, tucking his head to slide past choso and pray that his sliminess doesn’t get on his clothes. choso growls a little upon his exit, slamming your door shut behind him. your kind and gentle boyfriend was in the backseat of his own mind, and you knew it. he was blinded with jealousy—though he trusts you with his life. it just disgusts him that anyone can picture you in the way that’s only meant for him. if he could, he’d make sure no one could even look at you, though that’s far from an achievable reality. he stares at you, the fire dimming in his eyes only slightly since you were not the source of his rage—but you would surely be the resolve of it. 

you could tell what he was ordering you to do without him having to say a word, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve let choso fuck you in your office. it excites you to see him so controlling. you unbutton your blouse, moving from your office chair to the desk to present yourself for him. he growls approvingly, thumbing over his bottom lip as he admires you. you’re already a patchwork of bruises in various stages of healing—and thanks to your overzealous partner, he’d have to add more to the collection. 

“just panties.” he orders in that low silken tone of his. you can see the imprint of his cock steadily hardening against the casual black jeans he chose to wear today. your mouth nearly salivates at the thought of how rough he was about to be with you as you grip at the sides of your pencil skirt, yanking it down your legs and into the floor before you move for your bra—sighing at the relief of your free chest meeting the cool air. he nods, tugging at the neck of his shirt to remove it. 

your body just puts everything in overdrive. every need to take you and mark you up intensifying tenfold. you are perfect, sultry little lips, a perfect rack and curves for days. he knew he was hardly the first guy to fantasize about you—but he had to make sure he was the only one taking up your thoughts. you shudder at the reveal of his chiseled top half. he was so bulky despite first impressions, huge biceps and thick, veiny forearms. his chest was wide and pecs defined, he was a god. your legs shift wider in subconscious accommodation for him and he’s pushing his jeans down and giving you a half-lidded smirk—enough to make your panties stick to your cunt in anticipation of him. he grabs your chin, giving you a harsh kiss. he was so dual, so easy with you one moment and brutal with you the next, it was everything. he gnaws at your lip, shoving his thick tongue into your mouth, licking over the walls over your cheeks and tasting the bitter energy drink you’ve been sipping on your tongue. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lip puffy in the spot his teeth met. 

“so pretty even your coworkers want you. what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs, sinking to his knees. he rubs you over your panties, enjoying the squishy mush he feels waiting for him beneath the fabric. you kick your legs on either side of him, leaning back on the desk to get more of that feeling, his fingers temporarily hooking on your clit with each pathetic little roll of your hips. “only this wet for me though, right?”

you nod vigorously, parting those swollen lips to plead your case. he swipes your panties to the side and loudly spits against your clit. his other thumb comes in to spread the nasty lube. you clamp your mouth shut again at the feeling of his digits stroking over you, your studious boyfriend having learned exactly where to touch you through your times together. you shudder instantly, body responding through jerks of your legs and trying to shut them around his head. that only makes him move his fingers all together, leaning in to suckle your clit in between his teeth, biting at the sensitive nub. you can feel his hair rub against your inner thighs, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making you look around for a way to ground yourself against the rapid stretching elastic feeling in your core. his hands find the dimples of your thighs, kneading at them and groaning as he flicks his tongue against the nerves now—memorizing the patterns and speed you liked best like this quick figure eight he was doing now. 

one hand grips the desk, your other coming up to grip at his black pigtail, whisper-chanting his name as helplessly grind on his face. he knows you won’t last much longer, and he knows exactly how to push you over the edge—letting his fingers take the place of his mouth so he could occupy his teeth with the plush skin of your inner thighs. luckily you love it, his sick need to brand you in the most dangerous way possible—loving the message it sends. you squeal as he sinks into your flesh, seeing stars from the combining sensations. 

“choso!! cumming, oh shh—” your mouth drops open, the shocks coming over you in waves. if he was in a kinder mood, he’d work you through the onslaught and let you sit on his length, working you both out in such a delicious fashion. but he’s insatiable, and one of those sweet squeals from you is not anywhere near enough. he stands back to full height, pulling off those soaked panties and letting them lie forgotten along with the rest of your clothes. you’re so gone already—so beautiful and blissed out in the way that you have taught him exactly how to do this to you and no one could be as attentive and cater to you like he does. you look up at him so sweetly, you’ve given over your entire body for him to decorate as he sees fit—and your neck doesn’t have his teeth marks in the delicate skin where everyone can see. no, he had been a gentleman so far, keeping everything coverable–tasteful peeks available depending on the work shirts you chose. he thumbs over your lip, scraping his teeth over your jaw and nipping at different places just enough to bruise, loving the blues and reds left in his wake. he knows to be careful, to avoid your carotid–no one’s more in tune with blood flow than he is. so he picks his spot, laving his tongue over it as his fingers play in the mess between your legs, making you gasp and hump into his hand again like the eager little girl you are. you scream out his name when he bites, the iron tang of blood dripping on his tongue and down that pretty neck of yours. you kick your feet, the pain so deep but so good—connected directly to the panging need in your cunt, you can’t deny that his kink is one you share. 

you can see the red staining his teeth when he pulls away to look at the little streaks running down your skin–just enough. he would never seriously hurt you, and he knows that you love to be bitten and branded as much as he loves to do it. you grin at the sight of him, blood on his lip and desire burning in the place of his earlier rage. he turns you, helping you lean over your desk so he could see what marks needed to be replaced on your ass. he licks his teeth, several had healed up and disappeared to his distaste. he slaps the supple skin, making you jump a bit with giddiness—some dizziness even. you push against your wooden desk to feel his warmth, his large hand enough to sting your whole cheek as his teeth sink into the other. your eyes roll back a little, knowing this one had drawn blood based on the way he soothes over the indents with his tongue. it’ll be hard to sit on it tomorrow, but he compliments the brand with a few hickies surrounding the main piece, palming at your skin to soothe. he loves hearing you mewl and moan when he claims you, he loves seeing that glistening layer of your want for him on your thighs when he spreads your ass cheeks, grunting out just how happy it makes him as he guides his fat leaking cockhead to the eager entrance. 

he hisses and you moan when he bottoms out in you, giving you inch by inch without mercy. you press your cheek to the cool wood of the desk, only able to feel the heat of your body and his hot cock sliding in and out of you. you can’t speak, he fills you too well. he’s angled too perfect, hitting every spot over and over to make you stupid—unable to even hold yourself up any longer. he loves using such a brutal pace on you, thrusting powerfully enough that his balls slap against your bruised ass. you clench down around him so tight he’s worried his cock might snap in two—but it’s so worth it for the animalistic moans spilling from your throat every time he nudges against your cervix. you look so cute beneath him, clawing at the desk and screaming his name in those silent yells. 

“is this my pussy? tell me who’s pussy this belongs to.” he grunts, pulling your arms behind your back. you arch to fight against the depth he’s getting, only to give him more with your squirming. he tightens his hold to keep you still, using his other hand to pull your hair up for a clear answer. you inhale sharply at the pain, the feeling so blissful you can feel another elastic band stretching thin inside you. “asked you a question, sweetheart. speak up.” 

“yes–” you choke out, trying to collect your thoughts in between the loud beats of your heart and throbs of your pussy. “all yours, ‘s your pussy chos–choso!” you cry out, the rubber band snapping as he finds the weak spot of your womb. 

“that’s my good girl, want my pussy to cum for me.” he squeezes your wrists in one big hand—freeing your hair. you gasp out, nodding eagerly as the release comes gushing, your series of babbles and squeals enough to do him in. he slams his cock as deep as it will go–hoping to one day mark you as his in the most obvious way possible as his seed spills into your insides. he rocks you both through it this time, a sign that your boyfriend was returning to normal after receiving the cure to his sour mood. his soft hands caress the curves of your waist as he stills, catching his breath. you lay beneath him in a dream state, blood on your body and traces on the table and on his own person. he chuckles a little—hopefully your partner, and any other oblivious skeez, gets the point now, if your screaming didn’t run them out of the office.

[crushingonrazz]

Day 6

Rating: ...teen? or mature, idk man

Pairing: Classic Fontcest

Warnings: Brief Suicide Mention

I was thinking about how resets would work if they were the ever-repeating cycle with nothing ever changing, and I just got this idea in my head like "hey, if Chara found out how to control how repeating everything was, they could totally use this to mess with Sans!"

Every reset was always the same. Every single run, the same five days over and over and over. Sure, Sans could do something different, but after a while, even the most creative of people would start to run out of ideas, and Sans never claimed to be creative. And yeah, the anomaly could do something different, but there were only so many combinations of who they killed and who they didn't before even those started to become patterns. So he just repeated everything, the same five days, over and over and over again. Day 1 always started exactly the same way. He woke up hungover. He wished he could at least remember the night before, but it was so long ago that he'd long since forgotten what he'd done to earn such a severe headache and the large bruise that had bloomed up his sternum. He hoped it's been fun then, at least. He always groaned when he woke up, as one tends to do when they feel like shit. The first couple of resets, he was pretty sure he'd gotten out of bed and gone to get some aspirin, greeting his brother in the hall, but he'd long since started just staying in bed and waiting for Papyrus to come in and wake him. "SANS! GET UP, ITS TIME TO START A NEW DAY! IT STOPPED SNOWING!" "Uggghhhhhh" "COME ON SANS! YOU'LL FEEL BETTER IF YOU GET UP AND GREET THE DAY!" Then he was off, practically running down the stairs in his perpetual excitement. The same conversation, every time. And so Sans hauled himself out of bed, like he always did, and had breakfast, like he always did, and went to work, like he always did, and fell asleep at his post, like he always did. Four days later, he wished Papyrus a good night and went to bed, like he always did. The anomaly had been relatively kind this time, seemingly adamant on the extinction of Froggits, and only Froggits, for whatever reason. Sans didn't pretend to understand its reasoning. Sans laid down and closed his eyes. At least he hadn't been forced to find his brother's dust this time.

Sans was awoken the next morning by the sound of Papyrus bustling around the kitchen downstairs. He took a deep breath in, savoring the warmth from his blanket and the smell of bacon in the air. He relaxed into his bare mattress, not wanting to get up quite yet. He was way too comfortable, he could go back to sleep until Papyrus came to-- Sans's eyes shot open. Wait. This wasn't right. He was comfortable. There was no bad taste in his mouth, no headache, only warmth and nice smells and general good feelings. There had to be something wrong. Sans jumped out of bed without bothering to put on a shirt and ran down the stairs into the kitchen, coming to a screeching halt at the sight before him. Papyrus. Papyrus wasn't wearing his battle body. Papyrus wore his battle body all five days and he had taken off his battle body. Sans stood there in shock. Nothing new ever happened. It was Day 1, the anomaly couldn't possibly have done anything to disrupt the timeline and make his brother act differently yet, and why was his hangover gone? What the hell was going on? Papyrus turned around then and spotted Sans. "OH! HELLO! I AM SORRY I DID NOT WAKE YOU UP, I WAS DROPPING SOME BAKED GOODS OFF AT THE FUNERAL HOME" Sans couldn't stop staring. He hadnt seen his brother out of his battle body in what was probably years. He'd almost forgotten what Papyrus looked like in his favorite, warmest sweater. Hell, he'd forgotten that Papyrus even had a favorite sweater. What had happened to make this run so strange? "F-funeral home?" He managed to choke out. Papyrus looked at him in a reprimanding sort of way. "For those poor Froggits. No one seems to know what happened, but their dust has all turned up. I told you this yesterday, Sans!" He was quieter than usual now, as though he were starting to realize that there was something wrong. He remembered? He remembered! Papyrus had never remembered a reset before, it has only ever been Sans. Wait, but he said he stopped by the funeral home? That wouldn't make sense, that's not something you would do right when it started over--no. No way. It couldn't possibly be-- "Sans?" Papyrus looked very concerned now, having turned off the stove and kindness in front of him so they could be at eye level. "Sans, what did you do to your sternum!" He exclaimed. Sans barely glanced down. He didn't remember what he'd done, and he couldn't care less that he'd forgotten to put a shirt on upstairs. Sans felt tears start to run down his face unbidden as he stared at Papyrus, taking in the new sweater, the new breakfast, the new look on his face, all of these things that weren't really new but they were the first different thing Sans had seen in far too long and-- "Papyrus... it's Day 6!" he sobbed out, jumping forward and wrapping his arms around him. "Sans, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Papyrus cried as he was squished in Sans's desperate hug, but returning anyway because that's just who Papyrus was, he was kind and wonderful and God, now Sans could have a chance, he didn't need Papyrus to remember any more because it was Day 6, he would never have to repeat again because it hasn't started over, the anomaly hadn't taken it all away this time, they had let time continue forward, Sans could finally be happy. And with that, Sans pulled out of the hug only to kiss Papyrus with everything he'd ever wanted to, with everything he'd been holding in for hundreds, thousands of resets, with all of the love he'd held trapped down inside because of how damn terrified he'd been of it starting over and losing everything and oh, God, he was kissing Papyrus, what the hell was he thinking? He pulled back again, almost panicking. If it wasn't going to start over again, and Papyrus didn't want this, he'd just ruined everything. Papyrus would never want to look at him again, maybe he would even leave, he'd never want to-- Sans's panicked thoughts were abruptly cut off by Papyrus grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling him back into the kiss. He felt himself practically melting with relief. He hadnt been wrong, he hadn't been that much of an idiot to think that maybe, just maybe, Papyrus loved him too. They broke apart again, breathing heavily. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to do that" Papyrus murmured, tracing a thumb along Sans's cheek. This was the best God-damned day of his entire life. Sans couldnt help the new flood of tears that made their way down his cheeks as Papyrus leaned their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around him. "Why are you crying?" He heard Papyrus ask. "I-I'm just so-- I'm so happy, Papyrus. I n-never thought w-we would ever b-be--" a new wave of happy tears joined the first, Sans not even bothering to try and wipe them away. "I'm happy too, and I must confess I also had my doubts that we would be able to--" "No, you don't understand!" Sans interrupted, and suddenly everything came spilling out. The resets, the anomaly, the hundreds of times that Papyrus had died, leaving Sans alone, even the times Sans had ended his own life first just so that he wouldn't have to live through it all even one more time, and how he always woke up in that same damn bed anyway. Papyrus listened quietly through the whole thing, never letting go of him, and occasionally reaching up to wipe away Sans's tears. When he finally finished, he was hiccuping from all the crying, and Papyrus was looking at him as though he'd never seen him before. "Well that would explain how you've been acting the last few days. I don't think I'd ever seen you so... Apathetic" Sans realized that Papyrus was crying now, as well, and kissed his cheek as gently as he could, then hugging him close. "I'm going to be alright, now that it's over. Now, I have everything I've ever wanted" "You know Sans, someday I hope to be half as strong as you" Sans leaned away in surprise, looking at Papyrus's face and finding no trace of humor. "You're kiddin', right? Did you miss the whole blubbery crybaby thing a second ago?" Papyrus shook his head thoughtfully, then said "That is not what I meant. Crying does not mean you're weak, it means things have been hard and you're finally letting it out! You are so strong! I never would have been able to come out the other side of what you've been through" Sans looked into his brother's eyes and counted his lucky stars that Papyrus was here, and safe, and that now, finally, he could be happy. The rest of the day passed in a blur. Papyrus didn't take very much convincing at all to call in sick to work, which Sans found surprising. He just hoped Undyne wouldn't notice anything suspicious about both brothers calling in sick on the same day. Or at least that she wouldn't bother them about it. There were more tears, more hugs, more kisses, and at the end of it all, Sans was the happiest he had been since long before the resets started. He never wanted to let go of Papyrus, never wanted him to leave his sight. Finally, he could be happy. Finally, it was over. Finally. That night, when Sans yawned for what was probably the five hundredth time, Papyrus just picked him up and carried him bridal-style up the stairs. "Paps! Put me down!" Sans cried, trying not to laugh. "I DON'T THINK SO, BROTHER. YOU ARE CONTINUALLY YAWNING AND I CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE EXHAUSTED! YOU ARE GOING TO BED!" Papyrus exclaimed. He had returned to full-caps mode at some point during the day, and Sans was happy to hear it. He sighed in mock defeat as they reached the landing, but he frowned when, instead of turning down the hall to head to his room, Papyrus kicked open his own door. "What are you doin', Paps?" He was surprised to see a blush come over Papyrus's face. "I..I GUESS I JUST THOUGHT...I CAN TAKE YOU TO YOUR ROOM IF YOU--" Sans laughed slightly. "Nah, bro. Rather be with you" and he tucked his face into Papyrus's sweater in a lame attempt to hide his blush. Papyrus's happiness was practically radiating off of him as he finished going into the room, setting Sans down on the edge of his bed and going into his closet to get changed. Sans crashed under the blankets and settled into the pillow, closing his eyes. Papyrus's bed really was ridiculously comfortable. Maybe Sans's bed would be this comfortable if he ever bothered to put sheets on it. Oh well. He felt Papyrus crawl into bed behind him, and, after a moment's hesitation, Sans rolled over and tucked himself into his brother's side, holding him close and wishing he could hold him closer. He felt Papyrus return the hug, and they stayed just like that for a while, their breathing matching, the fingers of one's hand tangled with the other's, just taking in the moment. "I love you, Sans" he heard Papyrus whisper. "I love you too, Paps. Always have, always will. Don't you ever forget it" He felt Papyrus plant a kiss on his forehead. "I won't" he promised gravely, and it sent a shudder through Sans's soul. They drifted off like that, tangled together, smiles softly curving on both of their faces, happy. Finally.

Sans woke up with a headache. He tried to sit up, and groaned when he felt the pain lacing across his sternum. "Ugh" he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, his door flew open, and Papyrus was outlined in the doorway, a giant smile on his face. Sans felt himself light up for a moment at the sight of him. Then, he realized. "SANS! GET UP, ITS TIME TO START A NEW DAY! IT STOPPED SNOWING!"