kick bright

  • Uber driver: Hey, it’s you Uber here, where are you?
  • Aizawa: I see you.
  • Uber driver: Are you the person laying down in the middle of the road?
  • Aizawa: Yeah. Floor it.
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Here is the official debut for “Till St. Dymphna Kicks Us Out” by Conor Oberst. It was awesome getting to help shoot this and have a few really cool cameos in it (like casually making out with a total babe at the bar). Bonus points if you can spot all my cameos and Stephen Merritt’s.

Crybaby

Summary: You’re the one who is always picked on, almost every day, and you’re so sick and tired of it. Nobody helps you, until one fateful day. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE)

Word Count: 3,109 Words

Warnings: Bullying, fluff, angst, a bit of violence and gore, sappiness 

A.N: I’m always one for women standing up for themselves, but this idea just came to me and some standing up happens in the end. I swear I normally don’t like ‘damsels in distress’ but this story just happens to have a reader character a bit like that. Sorry. 

You hate life. Specifically, you hate school. No, it isn’t all those tests and assignments that teachers wanted you to do all the time, because despite those being an absolute pain, it definitely isn’t the worst thing you endured. You’re actually a reasonably smart person, and you find classes relatively easy. However, outside of classes…things are pretty terrible.

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Spilled Coffee - Tim Drake x Reader

Prompt: Tim falling for his secretary at WE???? Just super fluff please

“Good morning Mr. Drake.” You greeted cheerfully from your desk. Tim smiled at you and strode over to you with two coffee’s in hand.

“Hello Ms. [L/N]. Would you like some coffee? I accidently bought two.” He offered holding out the cup towards.

“How one accidently buys two cups of coffee I will never know but I’m not one to say no to free coffee.” You smiled reaching out to take the offering. He did this for you every once and awhile and you thought it was really quite cute of him. He always came up with silly reasons why he ended up with extra coffee and a part of you wondered if he was being more than just friendly at the frequent morning peace offerings. Well, coffee is coffee.

Tim let go of the cup when he thought you had a hold on it but it accidently slipped through your fingers and the hot liquid poured out of the cup and into your lap. You cried out at the burn of the liquid and immediately jumped out of your seat. Your clothes were completely ruined and your lap was in a tremendous amount of pain. Tim could only respond by being absolutely mortified about pouring hot coffee all over you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry [Y/N]!” Tim exclaimed hovering over you, not really sure what he was supposed to do. “Here. Come in my office, we’ll find some clothes for you to change into.” He said, already guiding you towards his office. He shut the door and closed the blinds behind him to give you some more privacy. He left you in a hurry to go in search for clothe or someone who would go out to buy some. Your only goal was to get your stupid skirt off.

Not really thinking, you peeled the wet fabric off of you and gingerly prodded at the red, irritated skin on your lap. It wouldn’t leave any permanent damage and you wouldn’t need to go to the hospital.

“I’m sorry I could only find some of my clothes that I keep here for long nights. I sent someone to go out and buy -” Tim said coming back into the room. Your eyes widened in panic and you tried to cover yourself from your boss. All you had on at the moment was your coffee stained blouse and your lacy panties that you were both glad and mortified that you were wearing today.  You blushed bright red kicking yourself for being such an idiot. Tim blinked at you a few times before he was able to regain his composure and respectfully avert his gaze from you. He held out the clothes to you and you took them, whispering your thanks.

“They’re probably going to be a little baggy, I apologize.” He said. You took them in your hands and brought your finger up to fiddle with the first button of your soiled blouse before you realized that your boss was still facing you.

“Mr. Drake?”

“Yes [Y/N]? I-I mean Ms. [L/N]!” He said correcting himself at the less professional use of your name.

“Would you mind turning around while I change? Not that I think you’re going to try and look or anything! But …”

“No, I understand.” He said dismissively before turning his back to you. You made quick work of undressing and even quicker work of dressing in his clothes. You had to admit that you could smell faint hints of his cologne on his clothes. You weren’t complaining but somehow this felt more intimate than it should have. He was right though, his clothes fit pretty loosely on you.

“You can turn around now.”  You said. He turned back around and glanced briefly at the sight of you in his clothes before he trained his eyes back to the ground.

“Sally should be back in about an hour with some replacement clothes for you. Again, I’m incredibly sorry. I honestly have no idea what happened.” He fretted apologetically. He looked so darn cute when he had that worried little crinkle between his eyebrows.

“It’s alright Tim.” You laughed.

“You called me Tim.”

“Well I yelled out a string of expletives when I poured coffee all over myself, you know what color underwear I’m wearing today and I’m now wearing your clothes. I think professionalism is kind of fucked today, no matter what way you look at it.” You shrugged, sitting down in the chair facing his desk. . “Of course, if you would rather I don’t call you Tim that’s fine too. I’m sorry I assumed, Mr. Drake.” You added on hurriedly.

“No! Tim’s fine. Call me Tim.” He insisted, shooting his hand out to touch yours in reassurance. He kept his hand there for a few moments before he retracted his hand, suddenly unsure if he should be showing this level of affection towards you.

“Well while we’re waiting for Sally we should probably get to work. There’s a lot we have to do today.” You said.

“Right of course.” Tim nodded moving to sit down in the chair behind his desk. He turned on his computer and while you were both waiting for it to boot up you asked probably the most careless question that you’ve ever asked anyone before.

“Since professionalism is shot to hell anyway, did you like what you saw, you know before you turned away?” You asked. He visibly gulped and turned bright red.

“I uh - you’re a very beautiful woman, [Y/N].” He admitted.

“But … ?” You prompted, sensing he had more to say but he shook his head.

“No ‘buts’. You’re a beautiful woman. I’m sure any man would want - you know what, I’m not going to finish that. I’m sure HR’s already going to be all over my case no need to dig myself into a deeper hole.” He laughed, nervously running his fingers through his long hair.

“It was just a little bit of coffee, no harm done.” You said encouragingly.

“I still can’t help but to feel guilty. I bring you coffee all the time. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I could just take a hint.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“You’re going to laugh but the reason I bring you coffee so often is that I hope one day I’ll work up the courage to ask you out on a date. Stupid right?” He laughed at himself.

“No, I think it’s cute.” You admitted.

“And if I were to ask you out now?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’d still say yes.” You swore. A small smile twitched at his lips.

“Even after I spilled coffee all over you?” He asked with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“Oddly enough it’s not a deal breaker for me.” You joked.

“That’s good to know.” Tim laughed.

First Rule of Fight Club

Title : First Rule of Fight Club

Pairing : Castiel X Reader

Word Count : 3,397

Prompt : You and the boys practice your hand to hand combat all the time to stay fit for each case. But when Dean gets a bit too handsy in training, Castiel takes it upon himself to intervene.  

“Shit!”

You blinked as you stumbled backward, raising your arm to your mouth. It came back bloody.

“Let me see.” You tried not to flinch as Dean caught your face gently in his gloved hands.

“What the heck, dude?” Sam called from the sideline, ducking under the ropes to get to the pair of you.

“It’s fine…” You mutter, running your tongue along your teeth. They were all still there so you were fine.

“I thought you blocked it.” Dean whispered with a sympathetic hiss, turning your face gently in his hands.

You let out a scoff. “Me too.”

“You really should stop now, Dean.” You tapped at your bloody lips with your glove as Cas spoke up from where he stood close to the door. “You are being too rough.”

“Look, I didn’t do it on purpose.” Dean snapped, shooting Cas a sharp look. You followed Dean’s eyes.

Cas was leaning on the far wall, his body tensed as if the sight of you fighting each other had him on edge. Castiel never partook in the bunker training sessions. He was inclined to sit back and stare. As always. You almost smiled to yourself, despite the pain in your lips. Could you imagine Cas boxing against Dean, or God forbid, Sam? The skinny little guy would get destroyed. Dean was like a train in the ring. You ran your fist along your jawline, flinching at the tenderness. It was going to leave a bruise.

Dean heard you inhale sharply at the touch and he turned back to you, his eyes soft. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You shook your head to clear it, wiping away some blood on your lip. You knew how to take a hit or two. That was the point of training. Bobby always used to say, better to take a fist to the face from one of the boys rather than a thing that’s actually trying to kill you.

You heard Dean sigh beside you. “Look, your stance just needs a little work. You could have blocked that if you had more power behind your arms.”

“I know I know.” You grumbled, shuffling away from him. “I’m tiny and I can’t beat you. You said that before.” You looked up at him, and you saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes and you instantly lowered your head. It wasn’t his fault you couldn’t knock the guy down. It wasn’t your fault he could punch through your block like Rocky. “Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dean shuffled closer to you. “Just try to keep tension in your stomach. Your core is the strongest part of you.”

Before you could react, Dean had his huge hands on both of your hips, steering you into the correct stance in front of him. “Feet shoulder width apart.” You blinked uncomfortably. You didn’t exactly like Dean touching you. You felt heat rush to your face.

You hesitated and your eyes flickered up to the far wall where you knew someone was watching. Castiel stood a few feet away, rigid and still as a statue, his blue eyes fixed on you and Dean as you practiced. You weren’t big on physical touch at all, and this was new, even though you probably should have expected it seeing as it was Dean.

“Lower your butt.” You gulped down a gasp of shock as Dean placed his hand wide on your lower back, pushing you down. You looked straight ahead, feeling blush redden your cheeks. You knew that if you looked around now you would find Castiel’s eyes and you were too embarrassed at the moment to look to anyone, not even Sam.

Dean leaned over you. “Now take a swing.” You swallowed hard as his arm came around and he rested his other palm on your flat stomach, pressing his fingers into your abdomen. “Feel it here.”

It took you an uncomfortable moment of transition to finally take a step and swing. Dean let out a hum of approval as you did. “Good, that was better.” He patted your stomach lightly. “Did you feel the difference there?”

You nodded, a little dizzy. You felt horribly awkward, Dean’s hands were still on your body. You weren’t exactly comfortable. “Yeah.”

“Swing again.” Dean commanded as he steered you around to face the other direction, your back facing Cas. Sam stood in front of you, bouncing lightly as he took a moment to warm his arms up. “Hit Sam.”

“Uh,” You hesitated, unsure.

But Sam gave you an easy smile. “You’re fine, Y/N. Take your time.”

Part of you wanted to turn back to Cas, see what he was thinking, but Dean was right behind you, his hands on your back and abdomen.

You lunged forward, swinging at Sam with your gloved fists.

And that was when two things happened. First, you hit Sam, and he smiled widely, blocking your strengthened blow with a nod of approval. And second, as you lunged forward, you let out a squeak of shock as Dean’s hand slipped lower and he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wheeled around, but Dean was already stepping away, a faint smile on his stupid, handsome face. “Sorry.” He ducked away from you as you instinctively lashed out to kick him, your face bright red. “I didn’t mean to,” Dean was laughing lightly, his eyes pleading yet amused. “I slipped, it was an accident.”

“Yeah right!” You snarled, swinging at him. You punched him in the arm before you turned around to stalk to the side of the mat, your face slowly regaining its normal color. “You’re a jerk!”

“Y/N, I swear that was an accident.” Dean took a step toward you, and you shook your head. As the embarrassment wore off, you kind of just wanted to punch him. But this was Dean, and you were kind of used to it by now.

“Maybe we should call it a day, guys.” Sam offered, his face slightly pink. He shot Dean a glare, as if he was scolding him for ruining a perfectly mature training session, but he didn’t say a word.

“Fine.” You muttered, feeling your jaw. “I need to shower anyway—”

“Wait.”

The three of you turned at the voice behind you.

Cas was standing, moving towards you, shaking of his trench-coat as he moved. He tossed it on the floor, his eyes hard and cold, fixed on Dean. You swallowed hard as he moved past you to face the older Winchester brother, leaving the scent of his aftershave in his wake. He loosened his tie and pulled it free with a sharp jerk, and tossing it away before he met Dean’s eyes.

“I want to practice.”

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Tennessee Whiskey - Daddy’s Little Lovebug

Word Count: 1244

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None. Pure fluff. 

A/N: Written for @impalaimagining ‘s Dean’s Birthday Challenge. The song I chose was Tennessee Whiskey. 

A/N #2: This is technically part of the Daddy’s Little Lovebug series before JoJo was born. I know some of you wanted at least a glimpse of Dean and the reader’s relationship before JoJo. It could also be read as a standalone. 

Daddy’s Little Lovebug Masterlist


Sitting around a table in a bar celebrating Dean’s birthday with Dean, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Mary was not something you would have foreseen years ago. The fact that Dean wanted to celebrate his own birthday was amazing in itself. The fact that you could celebrate it without the threat of demons or some other big bad showing up to ruin it was a miracle, but that was life now. Dean had no Mark, you weren’t constantly being threatened, everything was as close to perfect as it could possibly get.

“Y/N, do you want another soda?” Mary questioned. “More pie?”

“I’m good. Thank you.” You smiled back at her as Dean grabbed your hand and squeezed. “God, I could use a beer though.”

“No beer for you.” Dean chuckled, rubbing his hand over your pregnant belly. “Not while our little peanut is in there.” You pouted a little while Dean kept laughing when suddenly Sam’s arm was in front of you, putting a glass bottle on the table.

“Sam, that’s just cruel.” Mary chastised.

“It’s non-alcoholic.” Sam smirked. “Wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

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Take me dancing

Summary: sort of au where the reader was kidnapped by HYDRA and ended up with a hip injury, preventing them from dancing and having a breakdown but getting comforted by Bucky. FLUFF

Word count: 2815 words

A/N: So, this is my first imagine ever! I was so nervous about posting it but in the end decided to give it a go… I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Inspired by my first ballet lesson on Friday. Also, I’m shamelessly gonna tag @that-sokovian-bastard @buckysglow and @fluentflash. Thank you for your support and advice! 


It was Natasha who had found you in the cellar. You had been covered in dirt, blood and half starved to death; your ankles strapped together to prevent escape and the rest of you huddling against one of the walls when she had kicked the door open, bright artificial lighting spilling into the room. Years of captivity had made your eyes unaccustomed to the light, so your first instinct had been to cover your face with your hands, bracing yourself for a beating that never came. Instead, a tall slender woman had kneeled at your side, a sigh of relief escaping her lips when she saw you open your eyes.

“I found someone, she’s alive!” you’d heard her yell. Moments after, a man had barged into the room, his metal arm glinting under the harsh lights. He’d made quick work of your restraints, snapping them in two before helping you stand. It had been useless; your legs, not used to holding your weight after so long, had buckled under you, sending you to the floor.

“I’ll carry her” you’d heard him tell the woman, before a pair of strong arms had lifted you from the ground. “Tell Steve we’re on our way,” he’d said, carrying you through the halls.

You had been dehydrated, scared and weak, struggling to keep your eyes open but afraid to let them close. The mysterious man had seemed to notice, because immediately, you were brought closer to his chest, your head lolling to the side softly and hands shaking on your lap. “It’s okay,” he had murmured, blue eyes looking straight into yours “you’re safe now”.    

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some casual summer VIXX aesthetics

Taekwoon: brunch hour. hair rumpled from sleep, yawns as he walks around the kitchen. hot coffee in his favourite mug, the aroma thick in the air. isn’t wearing his earrings, and only half-changed out of his sleepwear. a cookbook picked at random off the shelf, and flipped through until he finds something he wants to eat. a gust of cold air from the fridge as he opens it. dozens of reminders and his nephew’s pictures stuck on the door with cute magnets. turns the radio onto a music channel, sings along as he cooks. barefoot on the tiled floors. gradually wakes as coffee kicks in.

Jaehwan: the bright, sunny afternoon. the shadows are short beneath his feet. overlarge sunglasses covering his eyes, sleeveless shirts and daringly short shorts. music playing from his phone as he walks around town, singing along. standing at busy intersections and watching people rush back and forth in the afternoon heat. ducks into air-conditioned malls when it gets too hot, and wanders around the stores until he finds someone he knows. loud, happy and boisterous, practically glows beneath the sun.

Hongbin: twilight hours, the evening, when the sun is about to set and the sky looks like it’s on fire. large, square-shaped glasses perched on his nose. white shorts, slip-on shoes, t-shirt and a cardigan with the sleeves rolled up. hair tousling in the wind. strolls around the neighbourhood before nightfall. a cream-coloured polaroid camera. a lot of standing around, sitting down on swings or trying to cram himself onto the kid’s rides when nobody’s looking. likes to lie on the grass when it gets darker. tips his head back and relaxes in the night air.

Hakyeon: tea in the morning, sugar cubes and a little bit of milk on the side. folded-up newspaper with doodles in the margins. half-finished crossword. house slippers, soft pants, a loose-fitting shirt. blinds and patio door open. birds chirping outside, the sprinkler a rhythmic beat of the morning. a plate of breakfast set off to the side while the news is read out loud on the radio. a notebook and a pen with the day’s events penned onto grid paper. fresh mint-scented face wash, fluffy towels. leaves the house and joins the morning bustle.

Sanghyuk: late-afternoon heat. tank tops with plunging necklines, shorts and flip-flops. a large watch-shaped tan on his wrist, overlarge neon-rimmed sunglasses. an icy treat brought from the passing ice cream truck. skateboard beneath his feet and keys hanging from a lanyard he’s had since he was thirteen, flapping out of his pocket as he rolls down the street. goes through parks with the splash pad, and doesn’t mind going for a quick wade in the pond or getting his hair wet under the spray. shakes it off afterwards, splattering water everywhere and grinning like a dork.

Wonshik: an early morning run, right at the crack of dawn. chilly, but his temples are damp with sweat already. a ragged, well-worn sweater and loose track pants. the sweater is gone by the time he’s done. music player in hand, headphone wires bouncing as he jogs. brand name shoes. maybe a hat if it’s going to be sunny. a bottle of brightly coloured sports drink on the porch, the hose pouring a gush of water over his head afterwards. muscle shirt underneath, tattoos out, ankles showing because his socks are too short.

Sketch 01: The Husbands of River Song

Happy New Year! May your days be merry and bright!

Kicking off 2016 with this little tribute to the recent Doctor Who Christmas Special. I loved the funny banter and sweetness between River and the Doctor! Although it was Alex Kingston and Peter Capaldi’s first time acting those characters opposite each other, they had a great dynamic (different of course to the one she had with Matt Smith’s Doctor) whilst managing to portray the affection and familiarity of a couple who had so much history together. How does Peter Capaldi manage to look both stern and tender all at once? ^^

Dream A Little Dream

As requested by Anonymous. Enjoy, love! (I’m sorry this is so short!)

With a little help from this imagine over at @imaginexhobbit

Eomer x Reader

Warnings: It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die!

Word count: 605

Notes: I do not own “Dream A Little Dream of Me” by Doris Day. It was simply stuck in my head and I thought it might be lovely to include it.


The dream is fading away but you can still hear the voice, its gentle murmuring guiding you slowly from sleep. It is a moment before you entirely realize the sound of your husband’s voice, his tender words floating in the air as you open your eyes to him; Eomer lies on his belly across his side of the bed, his fingertips gingerly tracing patterns against your taut tummy as he speaks to the child within your womb.

“…and I will teach you everything you need to know about that. I am certain your mother will, too, as she is quite knowledgeable in area, as well.”

You watch his lips curl and cannot help a sleepy smile of your own.

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Carnival

Pairing: Hamilsquad x reader

Prompt: Can I request Poly relationship between the reader and Hamilsquad maybe going to a carnival (I really don’t know I just need more poly hamilsquad in my life its amazing)

TW: Vomit mention

Word Count: 1894

~~~~

“Yes!! Yes!!” You were cheering, jumping up and down on your way to the car, in shorts, a t-shirt that you stole from Alex, and stupid patterned socks. The most important thing to note here, is that you were comfortable, and excited, and best of all, You were going to a carnival!!

You hadn’t been to one since you were a kid, but Hercules, being that it was usually put on by the community, was a volunteer a lot of the time. Alex had never really gotten the chance to go, being that his family didn’t have a whole lot growing up, John and Laf had been going every year since they knew Hercules, even before they were dating, so now, you two were officially a part of the tradition!

Hercules had already left, hoping to work the shift in the heat of the day, so that when he got off, you could all enjoy the carnival together. The sun was starting to set over the city, and you hopped into the passenger seat with a bright beam, kicking your legs like an excited, impatient child. That might as well have been what you were, considering.

With a beam back at your other boyfriends, the car started, pulled from the driveway, and off you went.

~~~~

The carnival was set up in one of the larger local parks every year, to accommodate with parking, as well as space for the rides and games. The four of you got your wristbands, Laf and John giving a soft laugh at how you were looking around like you were in heaven, and Alex was doing his damndest not to appear as excited as he actually was. You were handed a map of the little fair, feeling John snake his arm around your waist and glance over your shoulder.

“Herc was working the dunk tank, so he should be done by now.” John laughed a bit, holding the change of clothes he had promised to bring. Together, you made your way to the tank, trying not to get sidetracked on the games, and the food that smelled so good, all you wanted right then was a funnel cake.

“Herc!!” You waved as you saw him, where he was climbing back out of the water, onto the seat, and a little kid was walking away with a prize. He shook his head a bit, water dripping off of him, but he beamed upon seeing you approach.

“Hey! There you guys are! I was waiting for you! Man, that kid had an arm on him.” He muttered the last part, trying to get the water out of his ears.

“Ready to go?” Alex asked, coming to the side of the tank and smiling at him. To which the biggest of your group nodded, and readied to get out, just as Lafayette punched the target by the tank, and watched as he went falling back into the water with a laugh. He came up sputtering, trying to get the water out of his nose and eyes, while all of you were doubled over laughing.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?” He stepped out of the water, taking quick steps over to you. You squealed, and tried to hurry away, ducking just as he grabbed Alex and pulled him into a tight hug, effectively soaking through his clothes. Alex gave a cry of shock, trying to squirm away, as Hercules decided to make you a victim too, and loop you into a hug.

Getting dry was not so easy.

~~~~

Lucky for you, Hercules had the forethought to pack an extra pair of clothing in his bag for emergencies, and John had not only packed a spare, but so had Alex. It took twenty minutes of shivering, and waiting for a bathroom, but you finally got in, got changed, and were ready to  enjoy the park together. But, unfortunately, that also meant you all wanted to different things. Alex wanted to go on the roller coasters, John liked the looks of the Tilt-a-whirl, Lafayette liked the Haunted house, and Hercules just honestly wanted food after a long day of getting dunked into a tank by a bunch of kids. You, however, wanted to play some games. Food came first, you all agreed, since Herc had a rough work day.

You got a funnel cake, constantly having to lick the powdered sugar off of your fingers. You shared it with Alex, who only got a bottle of water. You ate, and talked, having a great time, just enjoying yourselves already, joking back and forth, and teasing one another. You threatened to wring your still wet hair out in Alex’s drink if he didn’t stop teasing you.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said, even as he held his drink closer to his chest in mock horror. Ohh, but you would. He knew better than to test you.

When that was done, you didn’t feel like you could go on any of the harder rides until after, you weren’t at risk of having your dinner make a reappearance. It was getting dark out, and Lafayette insisted on the haunted house. Hercules didn’t seem to keen.

It was structured like an old mansion, with images of headstones and bats, with other cheesy imagery airbrushed on the sides of the building. You always knew Hercules was stronger than you, but this was ridiculous. He tried to insist on waiting outside, and it took not only you, but John, And Alex, to get him inside. After that much, the door closed, and there was no going back. You were fairly sure the staff already hated you, for taking so long to even get in.

Asylum paraphernalia greeted you. An electric chair that was still sparking, a wheelchair that rolled down the hallway and turned a corner on it’s own. Standard, cheesy, haunted house stuff. Really, you were laughing most of the time at these attempts to be scary. Hercules was not, and he had Alex on his back now too.  When you finally saw the end, Herc bolted for it, hiking Alex further on his back and yelling back to you.

“IF THAT ZOMBIE MOVES, I’M PUNCHING IT!” He passed by it without incident, only for it to start moving and half-heartedly scare you when he was gone. The three of you faked a scream, he waved you out, and the Haunted House was officially done.

The sun had set now, lighting up the carnival with the colored lights on the ferris wheel, and other attractions. You wanted to play games now. If you didn’t walk away with a giant stuffed bear, you considered this a bust. There was a booth you set your sights on almost immediately, seeing how they had the biggest stuffed cat you’d ever seen, with big, green eyes. He was an orange tabby, and you were in love.

“Oooh!! I wanna try this one!!” You pointed at the dart booth, balloons pinned to the board to pop with darts. You slapped down two dollars, getting five darts, and taking aim at a pink balloon near the dead center of the board. If you got all five darts, you got the big cat, it was that simple. You focused, biting your lip, and throwing, and you cheered as you got the first balloon. And the second! But the green on at the bottom right seemed like too large a task, as you missed. Bye-bye, orange tabby.

You frowned, but got one more of the darts out of the five, and you were handed a stuffed polar bear in consolation. You huffed a bit, but hugged your new teddy.

“Allow me.” Alex smirked, sliding in front of you to the booth. He paid the two dollars, got another five darts, and took aim. He waited a moment, then shot, hitting a blue balloon in the center. He was quite the sharpshooter, that much was evident. As four darts later, he was very proudly asking for the giant tabby, and handing her to you. You cheered, hugging it tight, and giving his cheek a kiss.

“Okay! New challenge! Who ever can get the most prizes at the end of an hour wins! Break!” John announced, bolting in the other direction.

“H-Hey! Wait!” You yelled, clutching your new cat. “Ugh, you’re on!” You stopped your foot, and turned to running to a different booth, While Laf cheered, loving the competition. You all split up, sweeping over the carnival, and playing anything that caught your eye.

~~~~

An hour later, you mat up in front of the car, having made a quick trip so that you didn’t have to carry everything around. You won four, Alex won five including your cat, Lafayette won three, Herc six, and John with the crowning ten. Everything was loaded back into the car, and you very gladly looked over the toys that you’d been given with a pleased look. You were a sucker for stuffed animals, you had to admit.

You gave each of them a kiss, before you walked back in, making your way towards the tilt-a-whirl, which Lafayette wasn’t too excited about.  He said it looked rickety, and really, you kind of agreed. This one, he insisted on staying off, and you only went on on the promise that whoever ended up on either side of you would hold your hands. They agreed, of course, Hercules and Alex squeezing your hands tight, while John squeezed Herc’s other hand. It started up fairly quickly, and you squealed as you were pressed against the cold metal of the ride, held in place by really only a single chain. That wasn’t very reassuring, but it was too late now, and, really, this was fun!!

You heard Alex and John Laughing, and you squeezed Hercules’ hand tighter, needing the sense that you were stable when you knew you weren’t. Ooooh man…you weren’t feeling so hot…you let go of Alex’s hand, and he looked over to you, eyes getting wide as he realized why you were holding your stomach. The ride ended soon after that, much to your relief, as you found a trash can, and buried your head in it. You felt someone pull your hair your hair back, and a hand patting and rubbing to ease your heaving.

“I…think it might be time to head home.” Alex was saying, leading you to realize it was him patting your back.

“Yeah…hey, I can bring you back tomorrow for the roller coasters…sorry we didn’t get to go.” John sighed, pecking his cheek as you stood back up. Lafayette was coming back with napkins, handing them to you so that you could wipe your mouth. You flushed in embarrassment, but let them start steering you back to the car.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Alex promised. “Buuuut…I do want to come back and ride the fireball, soooo I’ll take you up on that.”

You slid into the back seat, taking your new stuffed tabby from the back and holding him. You smiled at Alex, where he sat beside you in the middle, and John on his other side. You felt tired…it was about Nine now, and you curled against the window, hugging your orange tabby, and soon falling asleep.

You smiled, and felt Alex kiss your forehead, and drifted off, with the rocking of the car.

~~~~

This was a cute, and innocent little prompt to kick off the blitz!! How tou enjoy it, because the next one’s gonna kill you!!

Love, Rosalie

Ice and Cold

Ao3 Mirror: Link

Summary: Sans always hides his feelings. He pushes them down as deep as he can until he can deal with them on his own later. Then he puts on a lazy grin so that no one can question what’s wrong.

Well. He tries to, anyway. Life doesn’t always give him a chance to hide. The feelings can end up bubbling and escaping without his permission. And he ends up making decisions that will affect him for a very, very long time.

—————————————————

Sans hadn’t initially meant to wander the ruins. He’d only needed a place to get away from the palace. From the well-intentioned monsters offering their sympathies when they were also hurting. From the memories that threatened to suffocate him. The ruins were far enough away that it made it difficult to run into anyone that had known his siblings directly. Which was exactly what the royal skeleton wanted.

Pink slippers kicked at bright red leaves as he walked. There was a part of him that wanted to stop and rest, but most of him knew that if he did so for too long his thoughts would inevitably turn to how much he missed Gaster and Chara. It was like a hole in the universe existed where they both should have been. He kept trying to listen for their voices echoing down the halls, and half expected to see their shapes as he turned a corner. Sans could feel another, far more painful hole deep within him. It was a constant companion since his siblings had died. He mused that it was ironic that he felt empty when he was already a skeleton. A harsh noise came from his permanent (though at the moment small and sad) grin. It was the closest thing to a laugh that he’d come to in months.

Another noise caught his attention. Small feet crunching on old leaves. Someone was here? He glanced around before realizing that the sound was coming from around the next corner. Sans eased himself along the wall and carefully peered ahead. His eye sockets widened at the sight. A small human child, smaller even than Chara had been, slowly limped their way through the room. They wore a bright red ribbon in their messy black hair and held a plastic knife to their chest. Perhaps they meant to defend themself with it. A shade of red similar to the ribbon dripped from the child’s knee to their soiled socks. This and tears in their clothing indicated that they had fallen. The child opened their mouth and a small, pleading voice came from it. “H-hello? I need help.” They inhaled shakily. “P-please? I-is there anyone here?”

A pang came from Sans’ ribcage. If he hadn’t shown up…now wasn’t the time to think about that. The skeleton took a breath to calm himself down, easing his face into a lazy grin. It wouldn’t have the same warmth that he had shown to Chara, but it was the best he could quickly come up with. He folded his hands into his dark sleeves to hide how they shook and coolly took the corner as if he hadn’t noticed the human calling out. They let out a screech, falling backwards onto a small pile of leaves. He briefly wondered what he’d done wrong when he remembered that Chara had given a similar reaction when they first met him. Sans gave the child an apologetic smile as he slowly walked toward them. They backed away into a nearby wall, panting.

“There’s nothing to worry about, kiddo. I’m friendly. My name’s Sans.” He stopped moving, content to wait for them to approach him. Or give him permission to approach them. The child eyed him up and down, stopping at his bright pink slippers with a puzzled expression before looking back at his hooded face. Sans made himself smile a little wider. “You must’ve fallen down here. It’s a good thing I was just about to check on that area.” He hated to lie, however small, but the child was already terrified. What good would it do to make them feel worse about their situation?

Now the child piped up. “So you can take the human soul you find there?” Their whole body was tense. They didn’t seem to be able to stand now that they were in something like a sitting position against the wall. The plastic knife lay forgotten near the path. Sans gripped at his wrist bones, thankful that the child couldn’t see him react to their words.

“Why would I need a human soul?” He gave himself a mental pat on the back for keeping his tone even and calm. The child stared at him blankly.

“You’re a monster,” They said this as if he hadn’t noticed something so obvious. It was kind of cute to hear it from such a small human. “And monsters all want human souls…right? That’s what my grandpa always says.”

It took everything Sans had to not roll the lights in his eye sockets at the old human propaganda. “I don’t want a human soul. I’m fine wandering the Ruins here.” The human continued to stare at him in confusion. “I only want to help you, kiddo. You’re hurt and not all monsters around here are as nice as I am.” There had to be a way to convince them that he was harmless.

It wasn’t that Sans didn’t trust other monsters. The skeleton was actually convinced that most monsters wouldn’t follow his brother’s edict to kill all humans that had fallen underground. He was mostly concerned about those who had taken the anguished declaration too seriously. Papyrus had been hurting. Everyone had been hurting. It was his duty to say something to help his people, even if he didn’t mean it. If Sans took the human back to the palace, they could become their guardians. Family. No, it wouldn’t be the same but it’d be something. Maybe that would help close the hole inside him.

He suddenly had a better idea of how to explain what he was doing in the Ruins. “You could say I’m a-guardian the humans around here.” Sans winked. The child slowly blinked at him. He needed to work on his puns. It’s no fun when your audience can’t understand where you’re going with your wordplay. “Uh, that is, I’m the Guardian around here.” That was a close enough explanation for what he was. There would be plenty of time to explain his real role in the underground later. The kid was probably getting overwhelmed. Their grey eyes became the size of saucers.

“A guardian angel?” They spoke with reverence. Sans’ smile twitched a little wider. He’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be seen as the coolest, “bestest” person in the room.

“Close enough. I can heal.” He removed a hand from the sleeves of his robe and surrounded it with blue energy. His eyes glowed with the same color as the magic he was manipulating. The child stared at the display. For the first time since he’d met them, they smiled. He forced himself to not think about where the gaps in their teeth might have come from. “All I wanna do right now is fix you up. Is that okay?” After a moment of considering, they nodded. Sans carefully made his way to the child’s side and kneeled down to get a good look at their injuries. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought. He waved a hand close to where he’d seen the scrape. “This is gonna tickle a bit.” He warned the kid as he let the healing magic get to work. They let out a startled gasp as the flesh pulled itself together and became smooth. Sans let the magic spread throughout the child’s body, checking for anything he’d missed earlier. What was left were a few minor cuts and bruises. They had been really lucky.

When the skeleton was finished, the kid looked themself over and touched where they had previously been hurt. As soon as they were satisfied, they looked up at him once again. “Thank you.” The fear they had shown him earlier was completely gone. It reminded him of a very similar, just as grateful thanks he had received what felt like a long time ago. Sans’ metaphorical heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to focus on the present.

“Right. So. I’m, uh, gonna take you to my old house. I’m sure you’re really tired from everything that’s happened today, yeah?” The child had stood up, testing the newly healed knee. He remained on his own kneecaps, keeping a grip on his dark robe. It wouldn’t help anything if he lost it right then. “If you’re hungry I can make you a hot pocket.” They stopped what they were doing to smile at him again. Sans kept a lazy grin on his face. “You like those, huh? And then after that I’m gonna hafta leave you alone for a little bit.” Before the child could protest, he kept talking. It was against his nature, but necessary. “Just for a little while! I need to bring someone that’ll really wanna meet you.”

The kid pondered this with their arms folded and their cheeks puffed out. Finally, they seemed to reach a decision. “Promise you’ll be back, though?”

Sans was very familiar with what to do here. He took a hand from his robe and extended his pinkie to them. “I promise.” Satisfied, the child wrapped their own, much smaller finger around his.

Now you can’t break your promise, ever! A voice he hadn’t heard in a long time echoed inside his skull. His other pinkie twitched, trying to feel for the weight of a child that should be there. The skeleton pushed the memory aside. He could deal with it later. After the kid had been taken care of. While they waited, he would head back to the palace and tell his brother about the situation. The two of them would return to Home. Papyrus would take one look at the child and instantly want to take care of them. That’s how it would go, Sans felt. Everyone would start to heal after this, he was sure of it.

—-

The plate broke upon impact with the ground. Papyrus stood over the crumpled body of the human child. In his hands were a glass container, holding a light blue colored soul. His eyes were closed, his expression sorrowful. Sans would only remember seeing that image much later. His focus in the moment was entirely on the child’s body. And the all too familiar wound. He felt cold. Like his soul had started to freeze over. Sans didn’t wait for his voice to stop shaking before he spoke. “Why…did you…”

Papyrus kept his eyes closed. “All humans who fall underground must die. Their souls will be gathered so that we may one day destroy the barrier and return to the surface.” He held the container tighter. The older skeleton clenched his fists.

“Papyrus, this isn’t right,” Sans could feel his bones start to rattle with how angry he was. His spoke slowly, making sure his every word counted. “I know you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean you need to kill humans.”

“I need to do what is best for our kingdom, Sans. Have you not seen how much happier our subjects are now that they have hope?” Now the younger skeleton’s eyes were opened. He turned to face his brother and stepped away from the body. “For the first time in a year I have seen smiles on the most despondent of monsters. Is that not worth any cost?”

Sans didn’t know he could still feel new kinds of pain while he was suffering from losing Gaster and Chara. Now he knew. His eye sockets were dark, reflecting his emotions. “Even if the cost is a kid. A young kid. Who had a family. Who could have been–” He choked on his words. That possibility was long gone now. “I don’t care that this was for the kingdom. Just because you lost your own siblings, it doesn’t give you the right to take away someone else’s family.” Papyrus could only hold his brother’s gaze for so long before he had to look away.

“The humans killed him, Sans. G–” The king took a breath. “Our brother is dead because of them.” So he was using that excuse. He sounded less like a king and more like a child.

“Our OTHER sibling was human. Did you forget that in your rush to kill?” Sans mocked with a humorless grin. His eye lights were still out.

Now it was Papyrus’ turn to sound angry. “They had no love for humans. They had clearly seen how cruel humans can be. Even on their deathbed Ch–” Again, he paused while attempting to say the name of a dead sibling. Again, he continued without saying it. “Our sibling only wished to see the flowers of their village. They said nothing of whatever family they might have had before falling. For all intents and purposes, our sibling was one of us.” Papyrus indicated the container in his hands. “This sacrifice will be small in comparison to what we have already lost. As soon as I have the rest of the souls then we can take back the surface. Our siblings’ lives will not have been lost in vain.” Sans couldn’t help but give a derisive snort.

“Both of them are GONE, Papyrus. Nothing can fix that. Especially not murdering MORE kids.”

“I still have to try. For our kingdom.” It was so obvious that the king was trying to convince himself as well as Sans. That only made the older skeleton angrier.

“You mean for yourself. It’d be one thing if you were planning on getting back those that killed G–” He couldn’t bring himself to say the name either. Papyrus reached out a hand towards his older brother, only for Sans to step back. “Those that killed him. But how do you know that this kid was even connected to those people? Or that any other humans that fall down here will be?” The younger skeleton hesitated, staring at the light blue soul in his hands. For once, he had nothing to say. Sans turned on his heel and headed toward the nearest opening. Papyrus called after him. He didn’t bother answering.

He had to get away. If Sans couldn’t convince his brother to change his mind about his decision, no one could. The Boss Skeleton opened the door to his room harder than he’d intended, but he continued to move. He packed away as many essential things as he could think of. Everything he didn’t need could be left behind. Papyrus could deal with it. The very thought of his still living brother pained him, but his anger motivated the normally lazy Sans into action. When he was finished packing, there were two things he realized he needed to do. First, he tore half of the calendar of the year that Chara had fallen underground and stored it with his things. Second, he paid a visit to the basement.

The former storage area was far too quiet. Silence had taken over since the Royal Skeletons had interred Chara there, but this was somehow far more oppressive. A stone casket carved with the name and soul color of the adopted royal sibling was to be the only feature in the new crypt. This wasn’t the case anymore.

Sans could feel his soul grow even colder at the sight of the second identical container adjacent to his sibling’s. A quick glance further into the room confirmed his suspicions. Five other slabs had defiled this place, along with the tools to shape the stones to hold more dead children. There was nothing more he could do for the child with the light blue soul (he tried desperately to remember their name but the horror of what his brother had done still filled him). He could, however, save his sibling from spending an eternity with his brother’s sins.

While usually slow in his movements, Sans quickly used some magic to push the lid of Chara’s coffin. Once the gap was wide enough to reach inside, he did so. The skeleton tried not to think about how light the body was. Or how cold his sibling was now. After making certain the wrappings around the human were secured, Sans used his magic to float his luggage next to him as he walked away from New Home. He didn’t encounter a single soul as he made his way out of Capital.

Humans buried the bodies of their dead, Sans remembered. He resolved to find a place to properly lay his sibling to rest. Away from the brother he thought he knew.

——–

It was Toriel’s favorite part of the day. As soon as she parted ways with her over enthusiastic brother, the goat monster walked in the entirely opposite direction of where she was supposed to go. Sure TECHNICALLY she had a job to do, but what Undyne didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. Using a couple of carefully placed shortcuts, she found herself in front of the stone door just in time. She smiled and knocked on it a couple of times.

The male voice on the other side was there, same as always. “Who’s there?”

“wanda.”

“Wanda who?”

“wanda hang out right now?”

He chuckled. “With you? Always.” This time he knocked.

“who is there?”

“Broken pencil.”

“broken pencil who?”

“Forget it, this joke’s pointless.” Toriel laughed along with the old man and plopped down in her usual spot by the door. They exchanged jokes and news about each other’s lives as they sat together as usual.

This little routine was the best thing that had happened to her in recent years. (Okay, it was tied for first with how awesome her brother was.) The goat monster could talk and talk for ages and the old man on the other side of the door would listen. Really listen. That and his excellent sense of humor made him that much more…she hesitated to use the word, but ‘important’ felt right. His voice was always calm and collected, but somehow it made the cold that much less noticeable. She liked to think that she helped him out too by being here. Even if she didn’t contribute much more than some stupid jokes.

Today, though, something about her joking buddy seemed off. He wasn’t laughing as hard as he usually did. When Toriel talked about Asgore, he didn’t pay nearly as much attention as he normally would. His quiet voice was even softer than she’d come to expect. And now the old man hadn’t responded to her for a while. Maybe he fell asleep? She wouldn’t put it past him from how lazy he sounded, but this was pretty sudden. Toriel knocked on the door between them. “old man? you still there?” She could hear a shifting of cloth on the other side. “did i startle you?”

“A little.” His voice was as calm as ever. The goat monster wished, not for the first time, that she could see his face to see if he was telling the truth. “I was thinking about the past.”

She kept her own tone light, though she had a million questions about what he could possibly be thinking about. “well at least you are quiet because of that and not my jokes. they are my bread and butter, i would hate if they had gotten stale.” He chuckled, a much milder reaction than what she was used to from him. Something was definitely wrong. Toriel took a breath and forced herself to ask the main question she had for her friend. “i hope…you do not mind my asking what about the past you are thinking about?” He went quiet again. She berated herself for even THINKING about asking such a personal question. They’d been having fun joking for this long and she’d gone and ruined it–

The old man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “It was…about my brother.” Toriel let loose the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. He so rarely talked about either of his brothers. She didn’t know if it was to spare her any pain on his part, or just to mess around with her. He was fully capable of doing both. Either way, her curiosity was on fire.

“the one that likes your jokes or the one that hates them?”

“The one that hates them. I remembered this one time when we were young and he was convinced that there was a human living in our closet. No matter how many times mom and dad and I showed him that it was just a closet, he wouldn’t believe them. So one night I decided enough was enough and set up a trap in the closet before we had to go to bed. At around the time that he’d get up because he was scared of the closet human, I pretended like I heard something coming from there. He thought I was really scared, so he went and opened the door to face the human. And, ah, got a face full of flour that I’d stolen from the kitchen instead. He was so mad…but he forgave me, eventually.” He spoke in a way that made Toriel turned her head to look at the door. During their time together she had grown accustomed to his calm state of being. Which occasionally broke in favor of full on laughter when she told an especially terrible joke. Here…he sounded wistful. Nostalgic. She couldn’t help but wonder if a funny story was all he had been thinking about.

There was a small part of her that wanted to change the subject. It would be a lot less stressful for them to continue to tell stupid jokes through the door between them forever. Toriel didn’t even know his name, or even what he looked like. It wasn’t any of her business to pry into his life. Except…she wanted to learn everything she could about him. The old man actively listened to Toriel’s rambling stories about what she and Asgore got up to. He’d helped her work through her problems when she felt at her lowest and most frazzled. She couldn’t just leave him out in the cold when he himself was feeling down. If he could manage to cool down the flames of her anxiety, then the goat monster could do her best to warm up the ice inside him. Still, she hesitated as she spoke. “old man…do you still…miss him?”

Silence came from the door. Toriel started to feel the cold seep into her body despite her fur and hoodie. Just as she was about to apologize, he spoke. He was so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him despite her long ears. “…y-yeah. Sometimes…I really do.” A small amount of cloth shifted behind the door, though she might have been hearing things considering that she was now grasping the front of her hoodie tightly. His volume only increased slightly, but it was as if a dam had sprung a leak. The old man’s words trickled out, bringing forth the vast loneliness she’d only briefly sensed in previous meetings. “I’ll…think of a joke that I know he’d hate and I still almost call out his name. I have…whole conversations in my head about what I’m doing where he’s there. I’ll figure out that a b-birthday is coming and have the urge to…to…” Toriel only heard the end of his sentence because she’d pressed her ear against the door. “…go…home.”

Her heart hurt. They were so close, and yet they might as well be a thousand miles away. Lacking the ability to give the old man a warm hug and tea, she knocked on the door between them. He seemed to choke, and she felt even worse for starting up their routine when he’d been crying.

Thankfully, he managed to reply. “Who’s…there?”

“orange.”

“…Orange who?”

“orange you glad you have someone to talk to, then?” The old man chuckled very briefly. She could hear cloth shifting again. He was probably using his sleeve to wipe his face. Toriel continued to chat to pretend like she didn’t hear that. “i know you do not like to talk about why you are behind the door…but did something happen? with your joke hating brother?”

The goat monster was really starting to hate these silences, no matter how short they were. “Let’s…just say that he did something that…I just couldn’t stay and watch go on. I got away and just…stayed away. Put down roots, settled in…almost felt like it was fruitless for a while there.” Toriel winced.

“that was too much of a stretch.”

“Sorry I’m not all that flexible. I’m out of practice, you see.” She could swear she heard a wink in that sentence, somehow. At least he was feeling better, though her face was flushing a little. “Anyway. If you have anything else to ask, you might as well go for it. I’m in a talking mood for once.” Despite his words, Toriel could sense that the old man would continue to avoid names when it came to specific topics. She didn’t care. It was her turn to listen to what he had to say.

She’d wanted to start off with an easier question, but a mix of being unable to think of any other questions and having this rare opportunity to ask had her blurt out, “do you hate him?” The goat monster mentally kicked herself but it was too late to back down now. “your brother?”

“Starting with the big one, huh?” The old man’s tone was amused, despite how serious the question was. “Nah.”

She blinked. “no?”

Toriel could hear a quiet tapping through the stone door. Fingers (or claws) against stone, if she had to guess. “It’s not that I hate him. It’s that I love him so much that I couldn’t stay to watch him become something he’s not supposed to be. If anything I hurt worse BECAUSE I love him. Since I can’t stop him from doing what he’s doing.” He’d clearly been thinking about this for quite a long time.

“i don’t get it. he did whatever it was that made you come here but…you still forgive him?” The very idea was baffling.

“Loving someone and forgiving them are two very different things. You’ve goat to learn the difference between the two.”

She didn’t bother commenting on the pun. “what do you mean by that?”

“Heh, you’re young. It’s kinda hard to really explain, but…” He shrugged. She could hear the shrug in his voice. “Basically it’s still possible to care about someone, even when they’ve done something you’re absolutely opposed to. Even after all this time, I care about him as my brother even if I’m not ready to forgive him for what he’s done.”

This statement made Toriel pause and mull the thought over. After a moment or two, she responded. “i do not know if i could ever forgive anyone that did something that i hated that badly. not even asgore.” It hurt to say it, but she owed the old man the truth. For a brief moment she had a sense of déjà vu. As soon as the man on the other side of the door spoke again, the feeling vanished.

“Well that’s fine for you. I won’t judge. You’re allowed to stay mad at someone if they did something bad enough. Me…I guess I’m just too lazy to really be angry for long.” Something about the way he said that made her wish that she could just destroy the door. Since she couldn’t hug him, Toriel got up and hugged herself. “Hey. Change of topic but there’s something I wanna ask you.”

“what is it?”

“You’re a sentry, right?” She blinked in surprise for the second time this meeting.

“yeah…?”

“If…a human comes through…promise me you’ll look after them?” Well that was a weird question. There was something about the question that put Toriel on edge…but she couldn’t refuse him. When would a human come through anytime soon, anyway?

“i promise.”

——————————————————

Notes: So I’ve been struggling to write something angsty like this for…quite a while now. I’ve got another fic I’ve been trying to write up that’s got similar themes but this AU really gets me thinking. And, uh, writing. Be on the lookout for another sad fic with more sad headcanons from me in the near future (I hope).

Most of the headcanons here can also apply (with some differences due to personality of course) to what I think about when it comes to main universe Toriel (who is great and wonderful and flawed) and Asgore (also great and wonderful and flawed and sad and I want to hug him the poor guy) but this AU struck me in particular because I’ve been in a similar situation to AT!Sans and AT!Papyrus. Namely because I lost my younger brother, and can identify with that kind of pain more readily.

I do exaggerate a little, but the thoughts and feelings I describe here are loosely based on my own that have occurred over the past two years. I’d wanted to write more about Sans missing Gaster, but I think this turned out pretty well. Hopefully my words can help those who also struggle with grief. For those who haven’t felt a significant loss in your life, I hope this helps you understand it a little better without having to suffer through it yourselves.

I’m not looking for condolences or sympathy, although either or is appreciated. I made this fic for me, and if other people like it too then I’m fine with it.

I’m not gonna elaborate on how my brother died in a public space, so if you want to ask me about it just head on over here.

Thank you friisans for this lovely AU that is fun to think about, even when the thoughts turn sad.