Chapter Text
The warm tickles of the sun feathered your cheeks.The lids of your eyes filtered the sun and cast through a flushed orange. The soft sound of the birds chirping and the giggles of children’s laughter jingled through the air. The creaky swings made you cringe. The soft crunching of sand scuttle it’s way towards you rapidly. You smiled softly, the aching muscle pulled- you weren’t much of a smiler. The only thing that made you smile was your sister’s kid. The only thing that makes your soul shine through, the little thing that flashes the colors of your soul. Ever since your sonofabitch sister couldn’t keep one stupid eye on her kid. Frisk ran away. Making the poor eight-year-old run off into the mountain, hiking their short legs all the way to the top of an extinct volcano, and falling into a bed of dopey flowers. After that journey, the kid came back with these monsters- which you remembered that they were like every fucking myth. Fake- and decided to drag them back to auntie “allay”. Since your stupid closed mind- yeah, you were an LGBTQ+ “phobic” bastard. But, ever since the kid came and spread your mind out like legs of some horny bitch- got you all tense it really strut out your defense. Seeing your little guy bruised and cut up, you assumed some gang fight had happened to them and magical creatures found them at the edge of their weakness- wow, ain’t life a bag of shit and flowers. It made your heart ache by lead-ton. So now your videotape called,”Life” has been sped up to the right time and place. The kid hummed at you, you softly open one eye and look down at the little fellow. Their arms stuck out above their head. Their hand clenched onto a slightly bent daisy and a small soft smile curved their small lips.
“That’s a pretty flower ya got there, romper.” Romper was a little nickname for the kiddo. Frisk beamed at you with their small doe eyes as they were reminded of a small, animated rabbit as you called them that. Frisk scrambled over to the bench and tried to claw their way up to the wooden bench. You open your other eye and hook your hands under the pits of the child. Plopping Frisk on the bench, they smile brighter.
Badum.
Badum.
Badum.
You loved them dearly. And love was a word nor a feeling you have ever felt in a long time.
“Auntie Allay-” Your nickname. “ I was thinking we could make some flower crowns! Chara helped me make them the other day! Maybe we can do them together!” Frisk exclaimed ecstatically. You smiled as they mentioned their imaginary friend. They were just like you imaginative and adventurous. But, never cold-hearted and a straight up evil bitch.
“We could make it for goat mama, Sans, Undyne, Papyrus, Mettaton, and the others!” They exclaimed cheerfully.
“Sounds like fun, my little rabbit.” You sang absent-mindedly with a soft smile. They simper towards you and nuzzled you with their nose. Like a Rabbit, they hopped off over to the swing sets. That soft smile hid away quickly once their warm, radiating pouring soul was too far to reach. Speaking of souls, they were a physical thing that happened to exist in the fabric of reality. Strange, huh? But, you don’t believe in that shit. A soul being the person you are? You scoffed at your thought. You felt full, but with Frisk, you feel even more filled. You liked when you were with them and only them. Your half empty glass was still half empty when they were away. The thoughts of them barely helped, but it would do. You sighed as you leaned back against the bench. The autumn leaves shined like gold.
*
The dimming of the bar was a sickening magenta. The whore-clothed females strutted around, you couldn’t help, but get turned on by the way they dress. Your sweet feminist mind of an angel whipped at you to look away. Setting your eyes on the edge of the cheap wooden table.
Plat.
Huh, right on time.
“What’s today’s agenda, Rodge?” You questioned as your concentration was set onto a bald heavyset man with a thick, worn out trench coat. Rodger smiled with zesty yellow teeth and placed himself on the cushioned chair. The pop music was silky and beating with your pulse as you tapped your foot against the polished wooden floors. Your fingertips matted and dragged the file towards yourself in a slick movement. Turning the page of the file, the picture of a monster. The monster was a tall tree man- like a fairy tale creature- with his wooden horns sticking out. He had a soft smile as he clenched a nicecream- those things are really popular, huh? His antlers were littered with moss and his eyes were like little holes. The monster’s face structure was close to a skeleton-like complexion. The street he was crossing wasn’t far from the bar you were at currently. The tree man seem happy and too god damn innocent. A strike of guilt sparked as your niece flashed through your head like lighting.
“I ain’t taking this guy out.” His flashy smile turns into a thin line. His bushy gray brows furrowed. The oldy had indents of anger on his face -possibly from the past- his mouth twitched as if he was ready to open his lips and yell.
“What do you fucking mean by,’I ain’t taking this guy out’?” He sputtered angrily. Your foot stopped tapping and the lyrics of the current song began to be more lucid. Twitching your nose, you clenched your teeth and snorted out the air from your nose. Mama always told you hitting was never the answer, (Y/N). That little voice in your head sang. Well, fuck your rules, mama. Hitting is always the answer. You clenched your fist as if you were getting stronger every time you squeezed your fist.
“I mean what I fucking mean, Rodger. I ain’t gonna kill some monster because your racist whiny ass wanted to.” You spat out at him. He snorted, almost like he knew you would say crap like that. He shook his bobbled-sized head and looked to the side. You gazed to the side as well. No one was staring which was victory.
Roger chuckled,”You're going soft!”
Roger exclaimed. His face was in total amused disbelief.
“And I thought you were a cold hearted bitch. But, I guess that stupid kid got to you and know you are just some sensitive cunt!” He roared with laughter as his beer belly jiggled up and down like Santa. Ho, ho, ho. (Y/N)’s got a sweet spot and her boss is sucking at it till it becomes a sore spot you’d like to hide. But, guess what. (Y/N) always covers it up and stabs her fucking way through.
“Sorry, Roger.” You grumble coldly.
“But, I don’t kill people. I kill animals like you, so you both won’t go at it and end going to the fucking police. So, go take a cancer stick and shove it down your throat. Cause I ain’t taking that assignment.” You sneered at the old pot bellied man. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.
You left with a scowl and your nails imprints in your palms.
*
Aggressively scrubbing the white ceramic plates with an ex-royalty never seems like an action you had ever thought of doing. You placed the white plate down on the other side of the sink where the goat was rinsing the plate. You grabbed the tomato, blood patterned dishware. You sucked in your breath and clenched your teeth. No one ever calls you a sensitive cunt and no one will ever mess with your sweet Frisk or talk about them.
“(Y/N), are you alright? You seem a bit tense, dear child.” The concern and soft motherly voice called out to you and your angered little void. You sighed out through your nose and roughly smashed the plate in the sink.
“Peachy, Toriel. Just peachy.” You growled. The motherly goat monster was unfazed with your silent tantrum. She’s been through angered and whiny children before, so it made sense.
“Works has been a fucking nightmare. My boss is being a racist asshole, so that’s one fun ride in the carousel of hell. He called me weak! Which I really do fucking hate! The last joy ride was calling Frisk stupid which really puts me in a genocidal mood.” You vented angrily. But, the boiling water of anger wasn’t settled. You groaned as stress stretched you out like some flexible muscle. Surprisingly Toriel hadn’t scolded you for cursing -which you do either way- she only looked at you with pity.
“Stop, Don’t do that.” You growled. Her pity was replaced with the emotion of confusion. You didn’t need pity. But, what did you want?
“What do you mean? I am doing nothing, child.”
“Don’t look at me like that! Don’t look at me with pity!” You screamed. But, the motherly goat did not say a word. Her eye curved into an emotion that looks like sadness. You scoffed underneath your breath and snatched onto your worn down bag gloves.
“I’ll see you later, Toriel. Tell Frisk, Aunty is blowing off some steam.”