gentleman writing

Panic! At The Disco music videos, a summary:

I Write Sins: The circus invades a wedding.

Ballad of Mona Lisa: Steampunk vampires, plus a murder conspiracy.

Nine In The Afternoon: Drugs ft. a marching band

That Green Gentleman: Drugs ft. Russian nesting dolls.

Miss Jackson: Brendon killed a hooker, some tires got set on fire and also there was this magic lady who gave her soul up or something. It was a bad day for everyone.

But It’s Better If You Do: Brendon secretly goes to a secret illegal strip club, keeping it a secret from his wife who just so happens to secretly work there. Good times.

Lying Is The Most Fun: People with fish tank heads which is apparently a metaphor for having sex??

Nicotine: Brendon clones himself to deal with the loss of his girlfriend.

This Is Gospel: Murderous doctors.

Ready To Go: Brendon accidentally travels to a different time/dimension, dances with some emo swiffers, gets shot out of a canon, is transported to Toonville, and then everybody decided to go all Singing In The Rain. In conclusion: what the fuck.

Build God, Then We’ll Talk: Mime porn.

Girls/Girls/Boys: To raise awareness of bisexuality, Brendon Urie goes naked.

Northern Downpour: Why are there words on everything.

Let’s Kill Tonight: Shockingly normal, considering the title and the lyrics of the song.

Hallelujah: Illusions, illusions everywhere.

Emperor’s New Clothes: Despite the amount of religiously themed songs, Brendon decides that Hell is the place for him.


The Overture: Wut.

“After all, what can a first impression tell us about someone we’ve just met for a minute in the lobby of a hotel? For that matter, what can a first impression tell us about anyone? Why, no more than a chord can tell us about Beethoven, or a brushstroke about Botticelli. By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration—and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.” 

His Fair Gentleman ~Gradence AU

Criminal Percy Graves has never known the finer things in life, and faces years for petty thievery, until a stroke of luck in the form of a spoiled and starched Nobleman Credence comes along and gives him a second chance at life. But has he merely traded one set of chains for another?

“You will behave, or there will be far worse than a jail cell for you to rot in, am I understood?”

The man with the heavy brows nodded, though he looked quite like he would prefer to have his hands around Credence’s neck than the stack of clothing he was strangling.

“Yes, I understand, Lord Barebone.”

(find it here)

Washington’s Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour In Company and Conversation (part 1)

Here we are, after a ridiculous result on the election. The times to come will be hard and complicated, and most probably there will be people with a total lack of respect for others since the chosen president shows that about half of the USA supports being disrespectful, racist and intolerant.

But not us. No, sir! We all know that this is the very right time to behave like real ladies and gentlemen, and treat all people as equals in the most civil ways. So here are the 110 rules that the 16 year-old George Washington copied by hand from Francis Hawkins’ “Youths Behavior, or Decency in Conversation Amongst Men” (published in 1640, and taken from the French Jesuits composition from 1595), and they are still as universal now as they were in the 18th century, even if they sound a little outdated. I’ve added some notes taken from the Foundations Magazine” to some key rules for all of us to follow and divided the rules in two parts so we’ll have two long posts and not one super-long post XD.

Originally posted by swisskriss355

1. Every Action done in Company, ought to be with Some Sign of Respect, to those that are Present. (Treat everyone with respect.)

2. When in Company, put not your Hands to any Part of the Body, not usually Discovered.

3. Shew Nothing to your Friend that may affright him. (Be considerate of others. Do not embarrass others.)

4. In the Presence of Others Sing not to yourself with a humming Noise, nor Drum with your Fingers or Feet.

5. If You Cough, Sneeze, Sigh, or Yawn, do it not Loud but Privately; and Speak not in your Yawning, but put Your handkerchief or Hand before your face and turn aside.

6. Sleep not when others Speak, Sit not when others stand, Speak not when you Should hold your Peace, walk not on when others Stop.

7. Put not off your Cloths in the presence of Others, nor go out your Chamber half Drest.

8. At Play and at Fire its Good manners to Give Place to the last Comer, and affect not to Speak Louder than Ordinary.

9. Spit not in the Fire, nor Stoop low before it neither Put your Hands into the Flames to warm them, nor Set your Feet upon the Fire especially if there be meat before it.

10. When you Sit down, Keep your Feet firm and Even, without putting one on the other or Crossing them.

11. Shift not yourself in the Sight of others nor Gnaw your nails.

Originally posted by thatwetshirt

12. Shake not the head, Feet, or Legs roll not the Eyes lift not one eyebrow higher than the other wry not the mouth, and bedew no mans face with your Spittle, by approaching too near him when you Speak.

13. Kill no Vermin as Fleas, lice ticks &c in the Sight of Others, if you See any filth or thick Spittle put your foot Dexterously upon it if it be upon the Cloths of your Companions, Put it off privately, and if it be upon your own Cloths return Thanks to him who puts it off.

14. Turn not your Back to others especially in Speaking, Jog not the Table or Desk on which Another reads or writes, lean not upon any one.

15. Keep your Nails clean and Short, also your Hands and Teeth Clean yet without Shewing any great Concern for them.

16. Do not Puff up the Cheeks, Loll not out the tongue rub the Hands, or beard, thrust out the lips, or bite them or keep the Lips too open or too Close.

17. Be no Flatterer, neither Play with any that delights not to be Play’d Withal.

18. Read no Letters, Books, or Papers in Company but when there is a Necessity for the doing of it you must ask leave: come not near the Books or Writings of Another so as to read them unless desired or give your opinion of them unask’d also look not nigh when another is writing a Letter.

19. Let your Countenance be pleasant but in Serious Matters Somewhat grave.

20. The Gestures of the Body must be Suited to the discourse you are upon.

21. Reproach none for the Infirmities of Nature, nor Delight to Put them that have in mind thereof.
22. Shew not yourself glad at the Misfortune of another though he were your enemy.
23. When you see a Crime punished, you may be inwardly Pleased; but always shew Pity to the Suffering Offender.

Originally posted by wadeewilson

24. Do not laugh too loud or too much at any Publick Spectacle. (Don’t draw attention to yourself.)

25. Superfluous Complements and all Affectation of Ceremony are to be avoided, yet where due they are not to be Neglected.

26. In Pulling off your Hat to Persons of Distinction, as Noblemen, Justices, Churchmen &c make a Reverence, bowing more or less according to the Custom of the Better Bred, and Quality of the Person. Amongst your equals expect not always that they Should begin with you first, but to Pull off the Hat when there is no need is Affectation, in the Manner of Saluting and resaluting in words keep to the most usual Custom.

27. ‘Tis ill manners to bid one more eminent than yourself be covered as well as not to do it to whom it’s due Likewise he that makes too much haste to Put on his hat does not well, yet he ought to Put it on at the first, or at most the Second time of being ask’d; now what is herein Spoken, of Qualification in behaviour in Saluting, ought also to be observed in taking of Place, and Sitting down for ceremonies without Bounds is troublesome.

28. If any one come to Speak to you while you are are Sitting Stand up though he be your Inferior, and when you Present Seats let it be to every one according to his Degree.

29. When you meet with one of Greater Quality than yourself, Stop, and retire especially if it be at a Door or any Straight place to give way for him to Pass.

Originally posted by anorangedeathandblackstrawberry

30. In walking the highest Place in most Countries Seems to be on the right hand therefore Place yourself on the left of him whom you desire to Honour: but if three walk together the middest Place is the most Honourable the wall is usually given to the most worthy if two walk together.

31. If any one far Surpasses others, either in age, Estate, or Merit yet would give Place to a meaner than himself in his own lodging or elsewhere the one ought not to except it, So he on the other part should not use much earnestness nor offer it above once or twice.

32. To one that is your equal, or not much inferior you are to give the chief Place in your Lodging and he to who 'tis offered ought at the first to refuse it but at the Second to accept though not without acknowledging his own unworthiness.

33. They that are in Dignity or in office have in all places Precedence but whilst they are Young they ought to respect those that are their equals in Birth or other Qualities, though they have no Publick charge.

34. It is good Manners to prefer them to whom we Speak before ourselves especially if they be above us with whom in no Sort we ought to begin.

35. Let your Discourse with Men of Business be Short and Comprehensive. (When you speak, be concise.)

36. Artificers & Persons of low Degree ought not to use many ceremonies to Lords, or Others of high Degree but Respect and highly Honour them, and those of high Degree ought to treat them with affability & Courtesy, without Arrogance.

37. In Speaking to men of Quality do not lean nor Look them full in the Face, nor approach too near them at lest Keep a full Pace from them.

38. In visiting the Sick, do not Presently play the Physician if you be not Knowing therein.

39. In writing or Speaking, give to every Person his due Title According to his Degree & the Custom of the Place.

Originally posted by massiveobserver-blog-blog

40. Strive not with your Superiors in argument, but always Submit your Judgment to others with Modesty. (Do not argue with your superior. Submit your ideas with humility.)

41. Undertake not to Teach your equal in the art himself Professes; it Savours of arrogance.

42. Let thy ceremonies in Courtesy be proper to the Dignity of his place with whom thou conversest for it is absurd to act the same with a Clown and a Prince.

43. Do not express Joy before one sick or in pain for that contrary Passion will aggravate his Misery.

44. When a man does all he can though it Succeeds not well blame not him that did it. (When a person does their best and fails, do not criticize him.)

45. Being to advise or reprehend any one, consider whether it ought to be in public or in Private; presently, or at Some other time in what terms to do it & in reproving Show no Sign of Cholar but do it with all Sweetness and Mildness. (When you must give advice or criticism, consider the timing, whether it should be given in public or private, the manner and above all be gentle.)

46. Take all Admonitions thankfully in what Time or Place Soever given but afterwards not being culpable take a Time & Place convenient to let him him know it that gave them. (If you are corrected, take it without argument. If you were wrongly judged, correct it later.)

47. Mock not nor Jest at any thing of Importance break no Jest that are Sharp Biting and if you Deliver any thing witty and Pleasant obtain from Laughing
thereat yourself. (Do not make fun of anything important to others)
48. Wherein wherein you reprove Another be unblameable yourself; for example is more prevalent than Precepts. (If you criticize someone else of something, make sure you are not guilty of it yourself. Actions speak louder than words.)

49. Use no Reproachful Language against any one neither Curse nor Revile.

50. Be not hasty to believe flying Reports to the Disparagement of any. (Do not be quick to believe bad reports about others)


BONUS to my previous post ;)

“It was almost 11pm, and while walking outside and simply talking seemed quite romantic, Mei was a bit shaky, since she didn’t knew this date would go on for so long. Junkrat, noticing her shiver, offered her his jacket, trying to be ‘a gentleman’, even though he’d never like to be associated with that word. Mei was bashful and refused the offer, yet as soon as the wind blowed again, she snatched the jacket right from his hands and covered herself up, however still looking away from the young mans side. Junkrat absolutely loves it when she shows him attitude, but this time instead of teasing her more, he asked if she’d like some boba, because there was one place serving it this late just around the corner. Mei wasn’t thirsty, but she didn’t want to go back home, neither did she really want to stop spending time with Jamison, because even though she hated to admit it, but he did make her feel some sort of special way…”

Washington’s Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour In Company and Conversation (part 2)

Read part 1 HERE  for rules 1 to 50.

Originally posted by mercurieux

51. Wear not your Cloths, foul, ripped or Dusty but See they be Brush’d once every day at least and take heed that you approach not to any Uncleaness.

52. In your Apparel be Modest and endeavour to accommodate Nature, rather than to procure Admiration keep to the Fashion of your equals Such as are Civil and orderly with respect to Times and Places.

53. Run not in the Streets, neither go too slowly nor with Mouth open go not Shaking your Arms kick not the earth with your feet, go not upon the Toes, nor in a Dancing fashion.

54. Play not the Peacock, looking every where about you, to See if you be well Deck’t, if your Shoes fit well, if your Stockings sit neatly, and Cloths handsomely.

55. Eat not in the Streets, nor in the House, out of Season.

56. Associate yourself with Men of good Quality if you Esteem your own Reputation; for ‘tis better to be alone than in bad Company. (Associate with good people. It is better to be alone than in bad company)

57. In walking up and Down in a House, only with One in Company if he be Greater than yourself, at the first give him the Right hand and Stop not till he does and be not the first that turns, and when you do turn let it be with your face towards him, if he be a Man of Great Quality, walk not with him Cheek by Joul but Somewhat behind him; but yet in Such a Manner that he may easily Speak to you.

58. Let your Conversation be without Malice or Envy, for 'tis a Sign of a Tractable and Commendable Nature: And in all Causes of Passion admit Reason to Govern. (Always allow reason to govern your actions.)

59. Never express anything unbecoming, nor Act against the Rules Moral before your inferiors. (Never break the rules in front of your subordinates.)

60. Be not immodest in urging your Friends to Discover a Secret. (Some things are better kept secret.)

61. Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grave and Learn’d Men nor very Difficult Questions or Subjects, among the Ignorant or things hard to be believed, Stuff not your Discourse with Sentences amongst your Betters nor Equals.

62. Speak not of doleful Things in a Time of Mirth or at the Table; Speak not of Melancholy Things as Death and Wounds, and if others Mention them Change if you can the Discourse tell not your Dreams, but to your intimate Friend.

63. A Man ought not to value himself of his Achievements, or rare Qualities of wit; much less of his riches Virtue or Kindred. (A person should not overly value their own accomplishments.)

64. Break not a Jest where none take pleasure in mirth Laugh not aloud, nor at all without Occasion, deride no mans Misfortune, tho’ there Seem to be Some cause.

65. Speak not injurious Words neither in Jest nor Earnest Scoff at none although they give Occasion.

66. Be not forward but friendly and Courteous; the first to Salute hear and answer & be not Pensive when it’s a time to Converse.

67. Detract not from others neither be excessive in Commanding. (Do not detract from others nor be overbearing in giving orders.)

68. Go not thither, where you know not, whether you Shall be Welcome or not. Give not Advice without being Ask’d & when desired do it briefly. (Do not go where you are not wanted. Do not give unasked-for advice.)

69. If two contend together take not the part of either unconstrained; and be not obstinate in your own Opinion, in Things indifferent be of the Major Side. (If two people disagree, do not take one side or the other. Be flexible in your own opinions and when you don’t care, take the majority opinion.)

70. Reprehend not the imperfections of others for that belongs to Parents Masters and Superiors. (Do not correct others when it is not your place to do so.)

Originally posted by periodpoppycock

71. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of Others and ask not how they came. What you may Speak in Secret to your Friend deliver not before others.

72. Speak not in an unknown Tongue in Company but in your own Language and that as those of Quality do and not as the Vulgar; Sublime matters treat Seriously.

73. Think before you Speak pronounce not imperfectly nor bring out your Words too hastily but orderly & distinctly.

74. When Another Speaks be attentive your Self and disturb not the Audience if any hesitate in his Words help him not nor Prompt him without desired, Interrupt him not, nor Answer him till his Speech be ended.

75. In the midst of Discourse ask not of what one treateth but if you Perceive any Stop because of your coming you may well entreat him gently to Proceed: If a Person of Quality comes in while your Conversing it’s handsome to Repeat what was said before.

76. While you are talking, Point not with your Finger at him of Whom you Discourse nor Approach too near him to whom you talk especially to his face.

77. Treat with men at fit Times about Business & Whisper not in the Company of Others.

78. Make no Comparisons and if any of the Company be Commended for any brave act of Virtue, commend not another for the Same. (Don’t compare yourselves amongst yourselves.)

79. Be not apt to relate News if you know not the truth thereof. In Discoursing of things you Have heard Name not your Author always A Secret Discover not. (Do not be quick to talk about something when you don’t have all the facts.)

80. Be not Tedious in Discourse or in reading unless you find the Company pleased therewith.

Originally posted by matt-smith-gifs

81. Be not Curious to Know the Affairs of Others neither approach those that Speak in Private. (Do not be curious about the affairs of others.)

82. Undertake not what you cannot Perform but be Careful to keep your Promise. (Do not start what you cannot finish. Keep your promises.)

83. When you deliver a matter do it without Passion & with Discretion, however mean the Person be you do it too.

84. When your Superiors talk to any Body hearken not neither Speak nor Laugh.

85. In Company of these of Higher Quality than yourself Speak not 'til you are ask’d a Question then Stand upright put of your Hat & Answer in few words.

86. In Disputes, be not So Desirous to Overcome as not to give Liberty to each one to deliver his Opinion and Submit to the Judgment of the Major Part especially if they are Judges of the Dispute.

87. Let thy carriage be such as becomes a Man Grave Settled and attentive to that which is spoken. Contradict not at every turn what others Say.

88. Be not tedious in Discourse, make not many Digressions, nor repeat often the Same manner of Discourse.

89. Speak not Evil of the absent for it is unjust. (Do not speak badly of those who are not present.)

90. Being Set at meat Scratch not neither Spit Cough or blow your Nose except there’s a Necessity for it.

Originally posted by foodincinema

91. Make no Shew of taking great Delight in your Victuals, Feed not with Greediness; cut your Bread with a Knife, lean not on the Table, neither find fault with what you Eat.

92. Take no Salt or cut Bread with your Knife Greasy.

93. Entertaining any one at table it is decent to present him with meat, Undertake not to help others undesired by the Master.

94. If you Soak bread in the Sauce let it be no more than what you put in your Mouth at a time and blow not your broth at Table but Stay till Cools of it’s Self.

95. Put not your meat to your Mouth with your Knife in your hand, neither Spit forth the Stones of any fruit Pye upon a Dish nor Cast anything under the table.

96. It’s unbecoming to Stoop much to ones Meat Keep your Fingers clean & when foul wipe them on a Corner of your Table Napkin.

97. Put not another bit into your Mouth 'til the former be Swallowed let not your Morsels be too big for the Jowls. (Don’t take so big a bite that you must chew with your mouth open.)

98. Drink not nor talk with your mouth full neither Gaze about you while you are a Drinking.

99. Drink not too leisurely nor yet too hastily. Before and after Drinking wipe your Lips breath not then or Ever with too Great a Noise, for its uncivil.

100. Cleanse not your teeth with the Table Cloth Napkin Fork or Knife but if Others do it let it be done with a Pick Tooth.

Originally posted by southerntinkerbelle

101. Rinse not your Mouth in the Presence of Others.

102. It is out of use to call upon the Company often to Eat nor need you Drink to others every Time you Drink.

103. In Company of your Betters be not longer in eating than they are lay not your Arm but only your hand upon the table.

104 It belongs to the Chiefest in Company to unfold his Napkin and fall to Meat first, But he ought then to Begin in time & to Dispatch with Dexterity that the Slowest may have time allowed him.

105. Be not Angry at Table whatever happens & if you have reason to be so, Shew it not but on a Cheerful Countenance especially if there be Strangers for Good Humour makes one Dish of Meat a Feast.

106. Set not yourself at the upper of the Table but if it Be your Due or that the Master of the house will have it So, Contend not, least you Should Trouble the Company.

107. If others talk at Table be attentive but talk not with Meat in your Mouth. (Show interest in others conversation, but don’t talk with your mouth full.)

108. When you Speak of God or his Attributes, let it be Seriously & with Reverence. Honour & Obey your Natural Parents although they be Poor.

109. Let your Recreations be Manful not Sinful.

110. Labour to keep alive in your Breast that Little Spark of Celestial fire Called Conscience. (Don’t allow yourself to become jaded, cynical or calloused.)


• you could be my new thang, nothing like those lazy bros
• fuck you I’m a pain in yo ass. Too far from the sugar
• this K-pop category ain’t enough size for me
• my seat is business, you economy always behind me kissing my ass
• I rap and y'all get turned on by ma tongue technology
• rappers so beat I always get to fat dick ‘em
• all ya fried rappers should be thankful for I am an idol
• good health is all you got, now mom’s gonna be upset when you lose it

Gentleman Caller

Characters: Benny x Reader
Word Count: 2,756
Warnings: None? I think?

A/N: This was a request as part of bovaria’s 100 Kink challenge, with kink #8 - a romantic evening. I did leave this a little open ended, should there be any request for a smutty part two, possibly even being paired with another kink from this list! Any feedback is of course appreciated! Also, I just have to dedicate this to my best gals, bovaria, elyshakate, kinkywinchesters, winchester-writes, deans-colette, and fvckinpayno. You are all slayers in my book and I love you all!

“Another one bites the dust, right Y/N?” Dean asked as he clapped you on the back, a glimmer in his bright green eyes. 

Keep reading

Hungry Reader & Alpha Grillby

           “I believe I have a mouse,” Grillby confided casually across the bar as he polished a glass. It was already sparkling clean, but Sans had long ago learned that the bartender liked to have something to do with his hands when speaking. He hated being idle.

               “A mouse, eh?” Sans sipped his ketchup slowly, free hand tapping the bar top. From his plate of fries came a similar ‘hmmm’ sound as his Reader mimicked his pose, stroking their chin. Ever since Papyrus had brought the skeleton a Reader as a present, it was rare for them to be apart. Grillby had gotten used to seeing them just as much as seeing Sans.

               “Yes,” Grillby set the sparkling-clean glass on the shelf below the bar, before leaning on it, hands folded on the polished top. “I have noted food disappearing from the kitchen and storeroom. There have been noises in the walls, and more than once I have seen something moving along the baseboards in the dark.” His fanged mouth was twisted down, a tight white line across his face. “I am not sure the best way to proceed. What do you use at the lab?”

               “It depends,” Sans set down his bottle and leaned against the bar, deep in thought. It was nearly closing time, and the bar was empty save for them. As soon as his arms were down, his Reader scrambled up the soft fabric of his hoodie and plopped down on his shoulder. He gave a lazy snort and handed them one of his fries. “Have you run experiments on these mice looking at the effect of magic on non-magic based souls that ended up giving them three-inch long fangs and daddy issues?”

               His Reader choked on their fry, while Grillby felt his jaw drop. “Just what kind of experiments are you guys running?” The Reader demanded, giving him an incredulous look.

               Sans shrugged and winked at them. “Top secret, sorry. The mice were okay, if that’s any consolation, Pipsqueak.”

               “A bit…” Pipsqueak muttered as they bit into their fry.

               “Anyway,” Grillby crackled, “I believe these are simply some house mice who had found their way into my walls.”

               “I would just trap ‘em then. Once they’ve found a place to nest, they’re not gonna leave.”

               “I was hoping to avoid harming them,” Grillby admitted.

               Sans patted his shoulder. “Aw, you’re such a softy, Grillbz! But they’re just mice. If you don’t kill ‘em, they’ll find their way back and just start eating all your food again.”

               The flame huffed but nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are correct.”

               “I think we have some extra traps at the office – I’ll bring ‘em by tomorrow.”

               “Thank you, Sans. I will see you both tomorrow night, then.”

               The skeleton tipped his bartender a wink and stood to leave, patting his Pipsqueak on the head when they leaned against his cheek to keep their balance.

               “See ya tomorrow!” The Reader waved as they left, mimicking Sans casual toss of the hand. Grillby rolled his eyes at the two and began to scrub his bar down, hoping to discourage the mice from trying to get into his kitchen once again.

             You just wanted a snack – a nibble, that’s all. You’d given up on scrounging up three full meals a day a while ago – a month, maybe two or three? How long had you been living in the walls of this bar, anyway? You ran a hand along your shirt with a grimace – you could feel every rib, and where had once been a rather poke-able belly was now a hollow stretch of skin.

               BUT! That didn’t matter. You didn’t need lots of food to survive – just a table scrap every two or three days was enough. Sure, it was a bit hard to find that much with the fastidious bartender and his cleaning habits, but you made due. It’s not like you had a choice, anyway – despite it being nearly April, it was still cold and windy out. No place for a little Reader like yourself. Besides, the walls of the bar were insulated and kept away the chill of the air, and thanks to a past family of mice that had lived there, you were able to sneak in through holes chewed in the baseboards.

               You were certain that’s the only reason the bartender – Grillby, you’d heard him be called – hadn’t found you yet. You were easily able to slip from one room to another without being seen, as long as it was on the ground floor. You were intimately familiar with the bar, the kitchen, the store room, and his office. His apartment on the second floor was a complete mystery – you’d never managed to get up the stairs, and honestly you didn’t want to. It felt invasive enough to be living in his walls without his knowledge or permission – the least you could do was grant him his privacy.

               Some part of you wanted to jump in front of him and wave your arms and holler a hello. You constantly squashed that part, sternly reminding yourself that what you had was enough. You’d asked for too much, and that was how you ended up alone and hungry in the first place. You were terrified of making the same mistake again.

               The bar was quiet and dark – it was far past closing. You prowled along the tables and chairs, searching for any table scraps left by the customers. There was normally something left by the guard dogs that visited every evening to play cards. The floor beneath their table was scrubbed clean, though – in fact, the entire restaurant was oddly clean. You paced behind the bar and found…nada. Zip. Nothing. You wrinkled your nose at the dust-free floor and climbed into the wall through a hole behind the shelf of liquors and wines on the shelf behind the bar.

               A quick walk to the storeroom showed the same level of cleanliness – not a speck of dust or crumb of food was left on the floor or lower shelves. Chewing on your thumbnail, you left the storeroom and headed for the kitchen.

               The hole to the kitchen was hidden behind the fridge, near the stairs that led to Grillby’s second-story flat. You had to climb out on your stomach, squeezing under the thick power cords from the fridge. Even this tiny space was squeaky-clean, void of dust and dirt. You climbed to your feet, dusted yourself off out of habit, and stepped out into the kitchen.

               The kitchen was dark, Grillby having already gone to bed. In retrospect, you should have realized something was off, or at least looked around before stepping out into the open.

               As soon as you’d moved out from the fridge, there was a loud, metallic snap, followed by a second, squishier snap. The sound echoed damningly in your ears, as an odd numbness began crawling up your left leg. A sharp, hot pain began to lance up the limb, shuddering through both bone and muscle. You tossed your head back, smacking it hard against the floor. Wait – when had you fallen to the floor? You’d been standing, hadn’t you?

               A strange keening sound reached your ears. It was very annoying – you wanted to yell at whatever mosquito was making it to shut the hell up, but the pain had burnt away all the numbness in your leg, and your mind was otherwise occupied. It wasn’t until you stopped to gasp for breath that you realized it was you making the pathetic noise.

               You bit your lip, hard, to stifle the sound. You couldn’t afford to be that loud – not with the bartender right overhead. Whimpering between your teeth, you forced yourself to sit up and see just what, exactly, had happened to your leg. The answer almost surprised a hysterical giggle out of you.

               A mousetrap. An old-school, wood-and-wire mousetrap. You had stepped right into it, left leg catching the trigger and sending the bar snapping down on your shin. Blood bubbled up around the bar, which had bit deeply into the skin and bone. You tried to wiggle your toes, and were relieved when they moved.

               Okay, you could figure this out. You were a smart, resourceful Reader. Mary had always said so, and Mary was never wrong. You leaned forward and hooked your fingers under the wire bar. The metal was cold against your skin as you tried to lift it off your leg. It shifted a bit, but all you succeeded in doing was sending another sharp shock of pain up your spine. Cursing your wimpy muscles, you slammed your hand against it in frustration, which only made more blood slide down your leg to pool against the wood base.

               You were 100% caught. No, 100% trapped. Obviously, Grillby had figured out you were nicking food from his storeroom and bar floor. You didn’t think he would try to hurt you, though – after all, it was just a little bit, and it was only every few days! You weren’t stealing full-course meals or anything. It was honestly disconcerting – you’d never thought Grillby would be one to act violently, even if he did double as the bouncer for his bar. Obviously, someone messing with his food made him angry enough to resort to more…finalmethods.

With a pained huff you fell onto your back, head bouncing off the wood once again. You yelped in pain, but quickly stifled yourself again as the urge to begin crying grew in your chest.

               “Sans, if I have told you once I have told you a thousand times, my ketchup stores are off limits!” The light at the top of the stairs flicked on. Wait, no – that was just Grillby, standing on the top stair, wearing pajama bottoms that were patterned with hot dogs. He was rubbing at his eyes as he descended the stairs, seeming annoyed at being woken. You had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from whimpering as the bartender came to stand on the last step, a towering inferno to your small form.

               The elemental opened his eyes and looked around, then blinked when he didn’t see any short, punny skeletons in the kitchen. He scratched the back of his head in confusion, then glanced down in thought. You met his eyes, hand still over your mouth to keep from making any unnecessary noise.

               It was interesting, watching the flame figure out what exactly he was seeing. He tilted his head ever-so-slightly, the thin, jagged line that was his mouth opening a bit as his brain caught up with his eyes. The flames on his head flickered sporadically, rising higher in shock as his eyes widened.

               “Oh my Stars.” He leapt off the last step and fell to his knees beside you, looking surprisingly upset at having caught you. Your pain-addled brain found that a bit odd – wasn’t that his goal in setting out a trap? You’d think he would be happier. The flame looked far from it, though – his eyes were wide (easily seen since he’d left his glasses upstairs), brows sloped in distress. His hands hovered over you as he examined the trap, fingers curling and uncurling as he thought.

               “Hold still,” he finally said, grasping the side of the mousetrap that didn’t have you in a death grip (hah!) with one hand. Curling the fingers of his other hand under the wire, he slowly lifted it. A new wave of pain rushed down your leg and you couldn’t help but yelp in pain as the nerves that had been suppressed began firing all at once. The fire elemental swore before – actually swore, you’d never heard him say any curse words while skulking around the bar – and pulled the trap away from you. He turned away from you as the wood base caught fire in his fingers, and he tossed it into the large sink a few feet away.

               While he was tossing it away, you nope’d out of there. Luckily the trap had been right by the fridge, and despite the pain you dragged yourself behind the appliance, suddenly happy for the squeaky-clean space. You knew, somewhere, that it was stupid to moveaway from help, but at the moment the fear and pain was in charge, and millennia of evolution was telling you to get to a small, safe space to recover.

               The dark space was illuminated as Grillby smooshed his face against the wall in order to peer at you. You bumped against the thick power cord and gave it a dismayed look – there was no way you could climb under or over it with your leg. The bartender leaned back, though you could still see his knee through the crack. There was some shuffling of fabric, then electronic beeping.

               Grillby’s soft voice seeped into the space, but you weren’t able to make out what he was saying. Instead, you focused on your leg. Ugh, you wished you’d been wearing jeans when you’d left. They would have given you a lot more protection than the shorts. You grimaced and shifted to lean over the cut – well, gash – and break. There was a smear of blood following you from where you’d been trapped to where you were now, the only mess in the pristine kitchen.


               You jolted back against the power cord and stared at the gap leading to the kitchen. Grillby was gone, replaced by a tired-looking Reader wearing shorts and a white t-shirt with a skull and crossbones drawn on it in Sharpie. Looming behind them was a skeleton monster you’d seen several times at the bar, sitting on his knees and squishing his face against the wall to peer in with one eye socket. How were the bones of his face squishing like that? It didn’t make any logical sense…

               Somewhere in the room, Grillby flicked on the overhead light, which was enough to illuminate you hiding place and you. The Reader gasped when they caught sight of your leg, and behind them the skeleton winced and made a sympathetic noise.

               “You got this, Pipsqueak?” The monster asked.

               “Yeah, go check on Grillby. He looks like he’s about to combust.” The Reader gave him a bright smile and waved him off before focusing on you once more. The skeleton got to his feet and you listened as he spoke softly to Grillby on the far side of the room. They turned back to you and flashed a strained smile. “Hey. I’m Pip.” They slid into the gap and crouched in front of you, wincing when they saw how screwed up your leg was.

               You managed to give them a pained grimace in return; you didn’t want to open your mouth for fear of making that odd keening noise again.

               The Reader glanced back at the entrance of the gap, where a small bag was waiting. “I know you’re probably not up to moving, but I can’t help you back here. Can you come sit by my bag?” They held a hand out for you. When you hesitated, their smile softened and became more genuine and less stressed. “I know Grillby and Sans are a little scary at first, but they’re both huge sweethearts, I promise.”

               You weren’t really sure about that – Grillby had set out a trap to kill you, after all. But the pain in your leg was clouding your rational thought, and blood was beginning to pool beneath your leg, soaking into your shorts and making your skin sticky. You grasped the strangers hand, wincing as you smeared their skin with your blood. They didn’t seem to mind, however – they simply hauled you upright and immediately wrapped your arm around their neck.

               “Here, put all your weight on me.” They instructed as they helped you limp out of the gap. True to their word, they helped you sit down against the wall right beside the bag, still next to the fridge. Sans and Grillby were standing by the door to the bar on the other side of the room. The two monsters glanced at you, but Sans quickly distracted Grillby with a bad joke, pulling the attention off you.

               Pip sat on their knees in front of you and pulled out a smashed piece of monster candy. “Eat this,” they shoved it into your hands, “it’ll help you heal faster, I promise.”

               You recognized the colorful splinter of sugar – it was pink, which meant strawberry flavor. Without hesitation you popped it into your mouth. Your tongue immediately began to tingle as it melted and dispersed healing magic through your body. There was an unsettling, sharp ‘crunch’ noise as your tibia and fibula snapped into place, accompanied by a weird, unpleasant grinding feeling that brought goosebumps up along your arms. The gash stopped bleeding, though the skin didn’t knit together.

               Pip was prepared; they’d pulled a plastic box with a red cross drawn on it from their bag. You recognized it – they were emergency med kits sold at the Shelter and some corner stores that carried Reader goods. They popped it open and quickly pulled out some foil squares.

               “This is probably going to hurt,” they warned as they unwrapped an alcohol swab, “but it’ll keep it from getting infected.”

               You grimaced but didn’t say anything, merely leaning back and bracing yourself. Pip gave you an encouraging smile and began wiping the blood off your leg. They cleaned the area around the gash before daring to gently run the cloth over it.

               You nearly bit through your lip at the sharp, stinging pain. You whined through your clenched teeth, and Pip flashed you an empathetic glance. “Almost done,” they promised as they wiped the rest of the blood away from the gash. If you’d eaten in the past few days, you would have been sick – you could see the white of your newly-healed bone between the slash of muscle and skin.

               “Ugh,” Pip looked away from the injury, busying themselves with finding sterilized gauze and bandaging. “Yeesh, how are you being so quiet? I’d be screaming my head off by now.” They asked, a tint of humor in their voice as they laid the gauze carefully over the cut and began to wrap the bandage around your leg, pulling it tightly to make sure it wouldn’t come undone.

               “There, all better!” They patted your leg gently, making sure not to touch the cut directly. “Well, mostly better. You won’t lose your leg, I’m pretty sure!” They joked. You gave them a weak smile, then glanced over their shoulder at the two monsters. Sans had looked back over while his Reader attended to you. You quickly looked away, hunching your shoulders around your ears. The skeleton grabbed the bartender and pulled him from the kitchen, into the bar proper.

               Pip moved to sit beside you, leaning against the wall as they used another alcohol wipe to clean your blood off their hands. “Grillby was really scared when he called Sans,” they confided, balling up the swab and tossing it at the med kit. “He thought there was a mouse in his bar, sneaking food. None of us every thought there would be a Reader wandering around.”

               “A…mouse?” You asked, licking blood from your lip.

               “Yeah,” Pip laughed, “a mouse. That’s why he set out mouse traps. He didn’t mean to hurt you – he’s really upset.” They glanced at the sink, where the unseen mouse trap was still smoldering and giving off light gray smoke, which was curling towards the ceiling. When you didn’t respond, they kept going. “So, what are you doing sneaking around Grillby’s, anyway?” Their tone wasn’t accusatory, just curious.

               You shrugged uncomfortably, but when you looked down you saw the neat bandaging around your leg, and figured you at least owed them an explanation in return. “I was hungry,” you admitted, leaving out that you had gotten hungry three months ago. When she gave you a concerned look, you hurried to defend yourself. “I didn’t steal anything, I promise! I just took whatever fell on the floor!”

               “You what?” Pip gasped, “Oh my goodness, you poor thing!” They threw their arms around you and hugged you tightly. “How long have you been hiding out here?”

               You winced, wishing they hadn’t asked but still feeling like you owed them an answer. “Uh…since New Year’s?”

               “New Yea – that was three months ago!” Pip let go of you, then pressed their hands against your stomach and ribs, easily feeling them through your thin shirt. “Oh my stars. SANS!”

               The skeleton monster immediately poked his head through the doorway, Grillby hovering worriedly behind him. “Yeah, Pipsqueak?”

               Pip leapt up and pointed at you. “They haven’t eaten in three months!”

               “Wait,” you hurried to correct, “I’ve eaten since then! I’d be dead if I hadn’t!”

               Sans pushed the door all the way open and strode in, Grillby behind him. The bartender was frowning and flickering in distress and worry. “What do you mean?” He asked in a soft, prompting voice.

               “They’ve been here for three months!” Pip revealed, pointing to you dramatically. “And have been eating off the floor!”

               You flushed brightly and struggled to your own feet, leaning against the wall to stay upright. Your leg gave an unpleasant twinge but held, the broken bones a mere echo of an ache now. “I didn’t steal anything, I promise!” You rushed to reassure the bartender. “I just took a little bit when people dropped it, just what they weren’t going to eat anyway!”

               Both the monsters and Pipsqueak were staring at you now, expressions flickering between horror and disbelief. You hunched your shoulders and looked away, squirming uncomfortably beneath their gazes.

               Bare feet crossed the room. You glanced up and watched as Grillby approached you and Pip. The other Reader smiled, but you shuffled back a step, so your back was safely pressed against the wall. At the last moment he stepped to the right and opened the fridge, the door swinging back and blocking him from sight. You could hear something – most likely ketchup bottles and the like – being clanked against each other as he rummaged around. After only a moment he moved to one of the counters, his body and the fridge blocking you from seeing what he was doing.

               Pip gave you a reassuring smile, though they looked a bit confused as well. They glanced at Sans, who shrugged at them with a grin, a motion they returned. The three of you weren’t confused for long, however. In only a few minutes, Grillby turned back from the counter, holding something in his hands. He moved back to the fridge but, instead of ignoring you, he knelt behind Pip. He didn’t speak, simply rested his hand between the two of you, palm up. Resting on the warm, flickering skin were two sandwiches, complete with cheese, tomatoes, and turkey.

               “Oh, midnight snack time!” Pip had no trouble moving closer and grabbing one of the sandwiches from the bartender’s hand. It was much larger than a proper sandwich would be – more like a flattened, layered pizza in their hands. Grillby must have cut the bread and fillings as small as he could handle without squishing it all. The Reader immediately took a big bite and melted, making a happy ‘mmmmmm!’ noise as she chewed. “It’s even grilled! Heh, well of course, it’s a Grillby’d cheese sandwich!”

               The flame rolled his eyes, though there was a pleased smile tugging at the edge of his line-like mouth. He moved his gaze from Pip to you, and the smile fell a bit. You were still standing against the wall, a good monster-sized foot away, shoulders hunched as you stared at the food on his hand. “Take it,” he insisted in a soft voice, shifting his hand a bit closer, “you need a proper meal.”

               You wanted to hesitate and refuse, but the smell of melted cheese and warm turkey hit your nose and you slowly, almost reluctantly, picked the sandwich up. It was a bit awkward to hold, but thanks to the bread being toasted it didn’t slump about the middle like an actual pizza-sized-pizza would have. You hesitated a moment, before bringing up to your mouth and taking a small bite.

               Instantaneously, your taste buds and stomach rejoiced at having warm food for the first time in months. You scarfed down a good half of the sandwich before a deep, rolling chuckle made you stop mid-bite. Your eyes flickered up and, to your surprise, met with the skeleton monsters. He’d come to sit down beside his Reader, leaning against the fridge as he watched you both eat. Pip was showing much more decorum, sitting on his knee and taking small, measured bites. Self-consciously you pulled the food away from your mouth, trying to fight down the blush clinging to your cheeks.

               “Don’t eat too fast there, kid,” he winked, “You’ll end up with a monster of a stomach ache.” On his knee, Pip choked on her sandwich and smacked his knee.

               “That was awful.”

               “Yep.” Sans leaned back and shut his eyes, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, looking mighty pleased with himself for the bad pun.

               “That truly was bad, Sans.” Grillby had returned – you’d barely notice him leave after you took the food – and he sat beside the skeleton, across from you, gracefully crossing his legs. He handed Sans a sandwich identical to the one in your hands. The skeleton opened one eye a smidge and accepted it with a grunted ‘thanks.’

               “So, you got a name, kid?” Sans asked through a mouthful of grilled cheese and turkey sandwich.

               You hesitated, taking another bite of your own food to avoid answering right away. It was silly – you should have been able to answer right away, ‘off the bat’ as Mary would say. Not that Mary was saying anything anymore…

               NOPE. Nope. Not going there. You swallowed your bite hard and slid down the wall to sit against it, knees drawn to your chest as you set the sandwich down beside you. Sans and Grillby’s expressions turned concerned, but Pip just nodded at you with an understanding look in their eyes.



               “…No, I think it’s turkey.”

               The dead-pan delivery surprised a snort of laughter out of you. “No,” you corrected, “my name is Lamb.”

               “Lamb,” Grillby cut off whatever joke Sans looked ready to make, “I do not wish to upset you, but where is your Monster?”

               You didn’t meet any of their eyes, and he made a soft ‘huff’ noise of understanding. Pip slid off their monster’s knee and moved to sit beside you. They didn’t say anything, just leaned against you as you stared at your knees.

               “Sans,” Grillby spoke softly, “could I perhaps borrow some of your supplies?”

               “I dunno,” Sans’ voice was teasing, “how much of my tab will it cover?”


               “Hey, just kidding, Grillbz! I’ll be right back.” There was an odd, soft popping noise, and the kitchen suddenly felt much emptier. You glanced up, and saw only empty space where Sans had been. Your eyes darted to the door leading to the bar, which was completely still.


               “He does that,” Pip reassured you, “So, uh, how did you get the name ‘Lamb’?”

               To their surprise, you snorted. “My monster was named Mary; she was an ewe. She – she liked jokes. You know the nursery rhyme, ‘Mary had a little Lamb?’”

               “Oh!” Pip easily caught on, and grinned against your shoulder. “So you were her little Lamb!”

               “Heh, yeah.”

               Grillby chuckled as well, his voice soft and pleasant to listen to.

               There was another pop, different than the first – this time air was pushed out of a spot all at once, followed by a skeleton that took up said space. He had a cardboard box in his hands, which had the ‘HEINZ’ logo printed on the side. He handed it to Grillby, who took it with a nod.

               “Thank you, Sans,” the flame glanced through whatever was in the box with a pleased expression. “I’d say this is almost enough to pay off your tab.”

               The skeleton grinned cheekily, before glancing down at you two. “Alright, Pipsqueak, I think Grillby has a spark of an idea on what to do. I’m betting we could get about ten more hours of sleep before we gotta get up for work.”

               Pip nodded and stood. You quickly followed, your leg giving only the barest of painful throbs as you put weight on it. The other Reader went straight over to the skeleton, who crouched down and scooped them up to sit on his clavicle. To your surprise, he didn’t straighten right up – he reached out and ruffled your hair with a finger. “Nice to meet you, Mouse. I’ll see ya tonight.” With that, he vanished, leaving you hair in a whirlwind of tangles.

               Grillby sat the box in front of him, drawing your attention. You met his eyes, which were squinting through a pair of square-framed glasses now, and immediately looked down at your feet. You were embarrassed to have even thought the kind bartender would deliberately try to harm you – it was obvious, thinking back now, that the mouse trap was set for just that – a mouse.

               “Lamb,” the bartender was leaning forward a bit now, but you still had to tilt your head back a bit to see his face, “Am I correct in assuming that your owner has…fallen?” He spoke the word with soft reverence, and you gave him a single nod. “And I suppose you have nowhere else you can go?” You shook your head, reaching up to run a hand through your tangled locks (and finding the remnants of the web – darn it, no wonder that spider had been so mad! You must look like a cotton-candy cone from hell…).

               Grillby was frowning now, and he looked at you through half-lidded, sad eyes. “You are more than welcome to stay here, for as long as you wish,” he offered. You didn’t nod or shake your head – you just stared at him, jaw dropped.


               “You are in need of a home,” the bartender explained, “and I am more than happy to provide it. I have ample room and food to accommodate a small guest.” You mouthed the word guest at him, and his lips twitched up in a genuinely amused smile. “No one should be forced to scrounge for food when living in a restaurant.” He pointed out, and moved to rest a hand, palm up, in front of you.

               He was so genuine, so honest, in his speech, that you barely hesitated to step onto his palm. You sat, carefully, a bit surprised that his warm, flickering skin didn’t burn you. It felt like sitting on a warm, scratchy blanket. Grillby tucked the box Sans had brought under one arm before carefully standing. His fingers curled up, and you automatically leaned against them. They were longer and thicker than Mary’s had been, and the way they curled slightly over you as you sat back gave you a sense of protection and safety much different from the ewes.

               Grillby flipped out the kitchen light (though being right in his hand, you couldn’t really see a difference when he did so) and mounted the stairs. You couldn’t help but feel a bit excited – you hadn’t been upstairs, after all, and the idea of seeing something new was a bit exciting.

               The stairs led to another doorway, which opened into a small living room. A kitchenette was to the left, while to the right was a door that led to what appeared to be a bedroom. It was simply decorated with warm colors mixing in blankets and pillows over white furniture. You noted several large bookshelves against one wall, full of culinary books and television shows.

               Grillby took a right to the bedroom, which was decked out in the same warm colors. A large bed took up the middle of the room, on either side of which were dark wood nightstands. He set the box down on one of these, and thanks to your height in his hand, you caught a glance inside. There were a few pieces of clothing, some Reader-sized books and a Rubik cube, and a small med-kit like the one Pip had used to help your leg, as well as a clear bag full of more monster candy shards.

               Grillby set his hand down on one of the fluffy pillows at the top of the bed, and you obligingly slid to the plush surface. You flopped down on it with a soft sight – it was much nicer than the nest of napkins you had hidden by the hole that led into the kitchen. The flame raised a brow at the pleased noise you made, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he rounded the bed and laid on the other side, tucking himself under the blankets to dim most of his light. The room was immediately much darker, and you rolled over to watch him as he settled in.

               The elementals flames had dimmed as he made himself comfortable, until he was less like a bonfire and more like a nightlight. He had set his glasses down, leaving nothing to obstruct your gaze of his soft white eyes, which were already heavy with sleep. “Are you alright there, Lamb?”

               You winced at the name – it sounded weird and foreign, coming from him. The flame noticed and sat up a bit, his fire sparking up a bit. “Are you alright?” He asked worriedly.

               “Yeah,” you quickly reassured him, “I - it’s stupid.”

               “I’m certain it’s not,” he insisted, leaning a bit closer so he could see you better, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong.

               “It’s just…hearing that name now feels…weird. Mary gave it to me, but she’s – she’s never gonna be able to – she’s…” To your horror, the corners of your eyes began to ache as tears gathered, and you dashed them away with a quick move of your fist.

               A warm hand surrounded you on all sides. Grillby didn’t try to pick you up or pull you close – he just rested his fingers around your back, like a heavy, heated blanket. He rested his head back on the pillow and waited patiently for you to continue.

               “I’m never gonna hear Mary say my name again!” You finally choked out, tears dribbling down your cheeks. Grillby rubbed his thumb against your shoulder in soft circles, watching as you wiped at your eyes. “Why – why did she have to fall?” You demanded of the bartender, which was a bit of a lost cause, seeing how you doubted he’d ever met her before. She preferred cooking at home to eating out. “She never hurt anybody,” you continued, “She – she was the nicest monster in the world! She always gave cookies to everybody in the neighborhood, and babysat for the bunnies next door, and she was the first one to offer help whenever someone needed it!”

               “Why – why did she leave me?” You looked up at Grillby, to find his eyes sloped in sorrow and his smile gone.

               “It sounds like she was a lovely monster,” the bartender kept rubbing at your shoulder, his voice a soft, rumbling sauna that made your very SOUL feel comforted. “But everyone has their time, and there’s nothing we can do when it comes. I’m sure your Mary knew that. She must have told you about what happens when a monster grows old.” You sniffled a bit and nodded. Grillby’s thumb had moved to rubbing at the back of your shoulders and neck, which was calming your thumping heart.

               “I’m certain she misses you as well, Mouse.” He put a bit of pressure against your back, coaxing you into laying down on the soft pillow. His hand shifted to lay on top of you, a warm weight that evaporated the tear tracks on your cheeks.

               “Mouse?” You asked, happy for the distraction. In the three months you’d been scrounging for food and making yourself a home in the walls, you hadn’t had time to think about Mary. You still weren’t ready too – it was still too painful, the sight of her dissolving to dust clearly imprinted on your mind.

               Grillby’s flames had calmed once more as he settled back down amongst the blankets. “Is that alright?” He asked. “It is what Sans called you when he left.”

               After a moment’s thought, you nodded. “Yeah, I – I have been acting like a mouse,” you gave him a small smile. “It fits.”

               The flame returned the smile with his own equally-small one. “Goodnight, Mouse,” he bid, flames dimming once again.

               “Goodnight, Grillby.” You returned, shutting your eyes and sinking into the pillows. As odd as it was, you found yourself incredibly grateful that you’d stepped into that mousetrap tonight. Despite the pain in your leg, and the surge of fear that had accompanied the start of the entire debacle, you felt safer and happier than you had in months.

Sorry for the delay in this chapter! I had a lot of trouble writing this for some reason - I had three different starts, but liked this version the best. I hope y'all enjoyed! Feel free to leave an idea or a question! I’ll do my best to answer them, and to serve up plenty of fluff, angst, and general cute giant/tiny interactions with our favorite Undertale friends in the future.


Oh wait, question! I had an idea (somehow - how the hell there is ANY ROOM in my head for any more ideas for this AU I will never know…) concerning the idea of how humans would react to the idea of Readers. Mt. Ebott is pretty much human-free, aside from the various Frisk and Chara’s, and they prefer it that way. Would you guys be interested in seeing something involving the humans reaction to seeing the human-like Readers being pets? Let me know, please!

Okay, Cheers for real!

jin scenario | gentleman

You always try to avoid clubs, but when you are dragged to one by your friend, you know it can only mean trouble. Luckily, you have a mysterious stranger to protect you. 

genre: fluff
word count: 2.5k

Originally posted by boguming

You hate clubs. The seizure-inducing strobe lights; the repetitive, thumping music; the drunken crowds. You despise it all. Yet here you are. In a club. Shortly after midnight.

Your friend dragged you here with the argument that it was her birthday, and that she’d be hurt if you didn’t come along. You had to wonder what happened to the pizza-and-pyjama-party type of birthdays. You friend used to be perfectly happy with that way of celebrating. But now she has taken the notion to be more “mature” and “grown-up” and to “live a little”.

Despite you only having agreed to come on the condition that your friend stay with you at all times, she is now nowhere to be seen. She said she was off to get drinks, but that was fifteen minutes ago. It doesn’t take that long to order a cocktail.

You squeeze through the heaving throng of people until you reach the bar. It’s hard to tell with the dim lighting, but after a few minutes of scanning the crowd, you are certain that your friend is not there. Puffing out a breath, you go to sit on one of the stools lining the bar. Maybe she just decided to visit the bathroom before meeting with you again. You send her a text, then wait. She’ll show up eventually. You hope.

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Awkward with A Girl in College 7

She was part of a group of friends I was hanging with in my first year at UCR. She was short and stocky. She would tell me stories about dating older men in the military back in San Diego county. She would tell me about the sad condition of her elderly parents. She was fun, otherwise.

One day, a noon class got canceled; so, I had too much time on my hands. We were walking around campus and she was done for the day. I asked if she would mind me walking her home. She said it was very far off and she didn’t want to inconvenience me. I told her it was fine because I had nothing else to do. We walked a couple of miles in the spring sunshine. After a good hike away from school and up a hill, we got to her place.

She invited me in to watch How I Met Your Mother and gave me water. We watched an episode and she pulled the illest attempt at seduction I’ll probably ever see. With no flirtation or invitation, she did something wildly suggestive. Somehow, while we sat; she had pulled the back of her skirt up through its waistband to reveal her butt. She didn’t even seem to be wearing a thong. I wanted to believe this was some innocent mistake, but it made no sense. There was no way the skirt could have done that without serious manipulation. I excused myself by saying I had a midterm I had to start studying for. She looked disappointed, but guided me to the door. I thanked her for the walk and hosting me, then left.

I questioned how suggestive I might have been leading up to the reveal. Not to brag, but I tend to act like a gentleman. I don’t think it works out for me, it’s just my tendency. I was questioning whether a little attention and chivalry was all some women needed as an indication of romantic interest. Then I remembered that she always told stories about how promiscuous she was. Even then, I can hardly imagine many women have succeeded by using that approach so suddenly with a male friend. Maybe I’m just a prude.

Imagine a pocket sized Jisoo asking for a piece of paper and a marker so he can write a letter to Santa thanking him for providing him with gifts and not coal.


This one is my favourite fic from this prompt list.

- We got in the same taxi at the same time.

‘Pembroke place on the green-’

‘At the corner of Hyde Park and Kingston pl-’

Both of them stopped and looked at one another, both of them one foot in and one foot out of the taxi, hand on the door about to pull it behind them. The expanse of the back seat may as well have been a contested piece of land with the sudden animosity that lit the taxi.

‘I was in first-’

‘I’m sorry ma’am but you’ll find I hailed the cab-’

‘Well chivalry’s dead alright-’

‘So are good manners-’

‘I’ll be-’

‘My meter’s running, so whichever one of you decides where I’m headed, wake me up when you’re done!’ the cabbie interrupted jovially. He was a young man, tattoos on his chin, cheeky and utterly annoying. Hiccup was tempted to leave the cab, sticking the annoying passenger with the increased bill, and the annoying cabbie with the terrible and huffy woman.

But this was his cab.

‘Mister … Eret,’ Hiccup said, voice wavering. He’d just come from a gruelling, extended family visit, then had to suffer the three year old playing ‘I’m not touching it’ with his prosthetic on the plane all the way down from Scotland, and now this was the last straw. ‘I’m Mister Haddock. Isn’t this the cab I ordered?’

The cabbie suddenly sat straight, putting his hat on right - unnecessary, since it was 2am - and turned towards the woman Hiccup was sharing the backseat with. Hiccup did too, feeling a little vindicated, only to see her biting her lip and looking outside beyond the the door, at the barren pavement and dim night lights of the airport. With the tail of his eye, Hiccup noticed that under her large jacket, he could spy an air-hostess uniform. Instantly, he felt like a cad.

‘Go to Hyde and Kingston first. Pembroke Place is just up the road from there anyway,’ he decided, closing the door with a firm tug. She turned to look at him, uncertain and still slightly litigious, and for a moment he thought she’d get out of the cab through sheer force of being contrary. But then she nodded, pulling her hand-luggage in behind her and sitting on the seat opposite his, her back to the cabbie and him, facing out the door.

Hiccup cleared his voice. ‘I’m sorry if I was less than polite. My flight was rather terrible, and I was in a frightful mood.’

‘I can understand,’ she mumbled. ‘I … it was the same for me. There was this child on my flight that wouldn’t sit still. He wasn’t even rude or naughty, but it’s terrible to try to balance that trolley while you have to dodge a little head down a narrow aisle.’

Hiccup tilted his head. ‘Were you on the BA8711?’

‘Just that.’ She stopped and turned to look at him, her body language not quite so hostile anymore. ‘Were you …’

‘Yes, I was the one who had to hand that boy to his mum again,’ he replied with a tired smile. She smiled back with a red-eyed sort of understanding.

‘He was a little hellion, wasn’t he?’ she sighed.

‘“Gustav!”’ he said, his voice slightly higher, ‘“Stop bothering the nice man” will echo in my dreams tonight.’ She laughed, and Hiccup found himself smiling.

The cab stopped, and the dull misty lights of the park corner crossing with the street lamps let them know they had arrived already. London was never empty, but this time of night was the closest the streets came to being barren.

‘Are you close?’ Hiccup asked.

‘Just down the road at the Best Western,’ she replied.

‘You heard the lady,’ Hiccup said towards the cabbie, who tilted his hat in amusement and took his foot off the brake. The car rolled down the street for a few seconds before stopping again, parked just opposite the small townhouse hotel.

‘That was …’ she shook her head at him and he just smiled tiredly. Before he could answer, she took a notepad out of her inside pocket - a tiny order booklet on which he suddenly remembered her taking his order for a black coffee that had helped none at all - scribbled something and tore it out, handing it to him.

‘I really owe you. I’ll be here for the next three days, so if you want, call me and coffee’s on me.’ She smiled at him again before grabbing the handle on her hard-case and stepping out, wheeling it behind her. The cabbie waited until she was let into the small hotel before driving off.

‘Pembroke Place, was it?’ he asked. Hiccup just hummed, looking down at the paper. “Astrid” it read, and her number. He smiled… maybe New Year would be more fun than Christmas had been.

‘Don’t know why you got the tip when I did all the work,’ the cabbie joked, driving back up alongside the park towards Bayswater.

‘Don’t angle for a tip when you’re already getting double the fare,’ Hiccup grumbled back, stuffing the paper into his wallet, away from the bank notes that were about to disappear. 

Almost Lover

Gary “Eggsy” Unwin would’ve been the death of Harry Hart, if only Valentine hadn’t gotten to him first.

Harry thought, seconds before the bullet ripped through his skull, about Eggsy.

It isn’t the life you had that flashes through your brain as you die, it’s the life you could have had.

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