Seven numbers hanging from the wrist of a scarred, worn hunter.
I’d love to say that they met on a peaceful moonlit night, surroundings bathed in silver under the beaming faces of smiling stars. I’d love to tell you that it was love pure and true, that they ran into each other’s arms with enough enthusiasm to topple the other over, collapsing into a loving, laughing heap. But life is rarely so kind.
And this love story does not start as such.
If a beautiful story of fairy tale romance is what you’re after, I suggest you keep searching. That you click away from this. Because this won’t be a fairy tale romance, and it won’t have a fairy tale ending.
Let us begin.
Just a silly thing I fancied writing. It's pretty bad cause I'm tired, but I wanted to post it for Valentine's Day, I might tidy it up later.
- Gaster uses sign language and speaking in Wingdings, but I'm on phone so I can't code it properly to make that clear
- Grillby and the skelebros are the only ones who can understand Wingdings