#and of course if I can include kris' eyes then I will make them red no matter what

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Other doodles from that page, no learning goal here, just had fun scribbling haha (am also realizing its better to crop these doodle pages instead of flooding one post with every fandom I've ever laid eyes on)

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #27:

Willie Nelson Sings Kristofferson

When I was eight years old my parents took me to see my first naked lady. Let me tell you all about it.

I grew up in LA but had no real relationship to Hollywood; yes, we'd take periodic trips to Universal Studios to ride through the one foot high Red Sea, see the Psycho house and climb on props from The Incredible Shrinking Woman, but Ricky Schroder didn't live on my block and my dad was a house painter.

My only connection to Hollywood and fame was my mom's famous cousin Kris, who we'd see once every other year or so. Kristofferson has never known me from Adam but, like me, he loved my mother and deeply loved my grandmother. He was also incredibly handsome, kind, deeply masculine and, by that point, stone cold sober. So of course he was my idol.

And so when Songwriter, Kris's totally forgettable buddy flick with Willie Nelson, came out in 84, I begged my parents to take me to see it. The movie was about writing, I argued, and I was going to be a writer when I grew up. I was eight years old and I was already full of crap; the movie is almost as dumb as I was:

Bizarrely, my parents agreed to take me, and next thing you know my mother was literally covering my eyes with her hands as Cousin Kris cavorted with a naked lady who clearly wasn't his wife and who had the world's biggest knockers. Happily, my mother's fingers are skinny, so I got an eyeful. The movie taught me absolutely nothing about writing, but I did start to wonder about naked ladies. They seemed pretty cool.

Still, I wondered just how Kris's lovely wife felt about him making such a movie. Every time I was around them, she was literally covered in their babies - there were way too many of them for me to begin identifying individual ages or names, especially as they all looked the same. Did she know, I worried, about the lady with the giant boobies? Would there marriage survive?

Well, it's 40 years later and I'm proud to report that they are still very happily married. Maybe she never bothered to watch Songwriter...

Thankfully Nelson and Kristofferson's relationship was not born on the movie lot, and based on the image on the back of Willie's 79 album Willie Nelson Sings Kristofferson and their time together in the Highwaymen, I sense that the relationship is a special one for both men.

In preparation for my discussion of the record, here's a warm-up, one-question, multiple choice, pop quiz on Nelson:

Question: How many studio albums has Nelson put out in his 61 year career?

54

38

565

100

Before you google the answer, let me provide a little perspective. Nelson and Bob Dylan both made their album debuts in 62; 6 years later Neil Young put out his first solo record. To date, Neil has 45 studio albums, or so, to his name, depending on how you count. Dylan, 40.

(Stephen Stills, as we all know, Sucks: in a career that's as long as Young's he's produced somewhere under 30 records or so, and that total generously includes all the C, S & N albums.)

Choice #1 in the above quiz makes sense. It would make Nelson slightly more productive than Neil and far more productive than Bob, and I can get my mind around that: Bob's production has slowed down considerably in the last 30 years, and Young's alternated between rushing things out half-baked (for example, everything he ever made with members of Willie's family in the Promise of the Real) or refusing to issue finished and impossibly great records for decades for no discernible reason (Homegrown, Chrome Dreams - you know, two of the best records of all time).

Choice #2, wherein Nelson spent less time in the studio than either Bob or Neil, could work too: Nelson is 4 years older than Dylan (Willie's 90!) and he didn't put out any records until his late 20's; plus he's always high, right? So maybe he's less prolific?

Choice #3 is included to make sure you're not a bot. If you are, Greetings, Machine. I hope you are enjoying my blog! Thank you for being 53 of my 59 followers. When you are done reading this please go attack some Russian servers or something, okay?

Choice #4 is nearly as wacko, right? How could Willie possibly have produced 1.64 albums a year, smoked all that supposed pot, evaded all those supposed taxes and made a terrible movie with Cousin Kris along the way? Can't be done, right?

Wrong. The correct answer is #4. Nelson has made an even 100 studio albums in his career. In 1982 alone he put out 4 records, 3 of which were issued in consecutive months. Holy Smoke, Willie!

Now I want to come right on out and say that I own, and have only heard, a fraction of those albums. I count 9 on my shelf at the moment and I'm no real authority on Willie. What's more, I've never been to Farm Aid, nor have I ever seen an Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground. I've never even smoked any of Nelson's herb and I'd decline it if offered. So, if you want to put me in a full Nelson in the comments and critique all the follows, be my guest.

But in the meantime I'm gonna act like I know a lot about Wet Willie and his impossible album total and argue that the sheer enormity of his output explains a few things about him generally and Sings Kristofferson in particular.

The album in question is alternatively workman-like, tossed off, intricate and sublime. I'm guessing he recorded it in a weekend of single takes after spending ten years singing the songs for his own pleasure. Let's dive into this Dollar Bin must-have.

To begin with, the hits are all here. Make a list of Kristofferson songs you know and they are probably all on the record.

Bobby McGee is given a country blues work up with an extended jam at the back end. Nelson rides the riff in baritone. The truth is that I've never heard a single version of this wonderful song that I really love other than Kris's own take: only he really understands how damn sad the story is. Roger Miller sings it like he's the gringo at the fiesta; Gordon Lightfoot gets the job done then moves on to songs of his own that mean much more to him; Janis Joplin rewrites it almost entirely, and while the result is classic, I have to remind myself that hers is the same song.

Much the same can be said for the album's Sunday Morning Coming Down. Nelson is thoughtful, takes the song to church and then the dance hall, and fills both spaces with stately grace.

I like playing Nelson's version of the song while putting together a nice weekend brunch for my family. There's plenty fresh hot coffee on hand for my wife and the egg sandwiches have avocado, swiss and homemade hollandaise. I pick out nice plates.

But the song is about beer for breakfast. And only Kristofferson really conveys just how much misery it contains:

And so I think that the real magic of Nelson's record lies in the songs Kristofferson got wrong on his own. Take You Show Me Yours (And I'll Show You Mine). Kris was pretty lost on alcohol when he blasted through his own version: there's a 4,000 member choir on hand along with a trashcan percussion section and too slick of a pianoman. All poor Kris can do is warble along.

But Willie uses the song to show off his pipes. And, oh, aren't they glorious!

And the album closes with something pretty extraordinary I think. Please Don't Tell Me How the Story Ends is a song Kris passed on to others in the late 60's. He didn't attempt a version of his own until the 3rd album he made with Rita Coollidge and that record is straight up boring. Their marriage was already over; the story had already ended.

But Nelson's version is startlingly perfect. Just sit with me a moment. Enjoy it, till it's over. And lean in for the second line of the second verse. I find the note Willie hits for "softer" to be one of the most surprising and sublime moments in my entire Dollar Bin.

I kind of imagine Nelson will live to 100 and put out another 25 records. But Cousin Kris will surely pass away in the coming days, months or years. So too will Bob and Neil. I honestly hate to think about it. Just like me, they are all flawed men, yes, but I believe they are important artists and their contributions have been, and will continue to be, deeply positive.

When the day comes and I hear of Kris's passing, I'll surely put on this record and think with appreciation of the really nice moments I was lucky to spend in his company as a kid. I'll think of his wonderful songwriting, and I'll think of the loving pride with which he stood beside my grandmother. I'll probably remember too how he granted me my first look at boobies.

And when Willie Nelson begins to sing in Please Don't Tell Me How... and describes so perfectly a last night spent together, I'll sit still and close my eyes, saying a little prayer in my own way.

That's how I want the story to end.

[dropdeadgxrgeous]

Kristal Yuletide (🔔)

Appearance

General Bio

Name: Kristal Yuletide

Nicknames/Aliases: "Kris"

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Age: 15

Birthday: December 5th (Krampusnacht, Sagittarius)

Species: Demon

Parents: Krampus (Father), Unnamed Mother (Deceased)

Siblings: None

Pet: Noel (Reindeer)

Nationality: German

Occupation: Student at Monster High, Babysitter

Eye Color: Red (with yellow sclerae)

Hair Color: Black

Voice Claim: Pauline (Kate Higgins)

Preferences

Killer Style: "There are two elements that go into a Yuletide outfit: Fur and velvet! It's cozy, festive, and fashionable, win-win! I'll let you on a little secret: I also have a soft spot for sweaters, including the "ugly" ones."

Favorite Activity: "Ever since I was young, I always had a passion for caroling, going door to door and spreading holiday cheer is just the best! Other than that, I take much joy in planning Christmas parties for my friends, I can already imagine the fun we'll have before the party even starts!"

Pet Peeve: "All those scrooges during the holiday season, those that lack the holiday cheer. Though, they don't really make me mad, just upset. Like, something awful must have happened to make someone so angry and mellow during the jolliest time of the year."

Favorite Subject: "Music and Singing! Though Skullinary Arts is right up there too, because I love to cook and bake, especially cookies!"

Least Favorite Subject: "This may come as a surprise, but I do not like Physical Deaducation, I was never really the athletic type."

Favorite Color: "Red and green! But I shan't forget gold, white ,and brown too, all of them just scream the Christmas season."

Favorite Food: "Gingerbread cookies with peppermint icing, smells just as good as it tastes! Even better with a side of 'nog (without the "extra kick" of course, Dad says I'm not old enough for that yet)"

Personality

Despite the negative circumstances regarding the death of her mother and her father's job, she is bright, cheery, and jolly. She loves to spread holiday cheer and happiness towards others whether it be through singing, sharing baked goods, or throwing Christmas parties. She's also kind and generous to others, even to humans. And despite the nature of her father's duty, she's actually really good with children, acting very motherly towards them, to the point where she is a heavily sought-after babysitter. She also has a strong sense of right and wrong (albeit it being rather black and white), as she will always be the first to call out behavior that is seen as reprehensible.

However, even the holly and jolly have their flaws. Kristal's cheerfulness can cross the line into becoming annoying, even if she never intended to be so. As mentioned before, her views on morality is black-and-white, she believes that every decision and action is either "naughty" or "nice", and there is rarely room for an in-between. She can also get pretty upset rather quickly when she makes mistakes or if things don't go according to plan. Her love for Christmas can also be a bit obsessive.

Abilities

Immortality

As she is a demon, she is immortal

Skills

Musical Talents

Kristal is musically talented, ever since she was pretty young she had a knack for singing, starting with her caroling during the holiday season. She also has fondness for and is seen using bells, mainly hand bells.

Cooking and Baking

Kristal loves to bake things such as gingerbread cookies, yule log cake, turkey, and mince pies, among other things. She excels in Skullinary Arts because of this, and even cooks the food for her own parties.

Babysitting

In contrast to her father's job, Kristal has a side job as a babysitter, she is often sought-after by other monsters whenever she's open for business, as she's really good with children.

Fun Facts

She is a fan of Mariah Scarey (Mariah Carey)

She shares a voice actress with G1 Frankie Stein, Catrine DeMew, Iris Clops, and Lilith Van Hellscream.

She has always wanted to meet Santa, as her father would often tell her of the times he worked with him.

Krampus used to take some pleasure in his job, but once he had Kristal, he started to hate it, he only does the job because he has to, and so that Kristal wouldn't be alone. In fact, he actually dotes on her, since he doesn't want his child to grow up miserable and feeling unloved due to the dead mom thing (she died from an illness when Kristal was very young) and the nature of his job.

Her name was originally going to be "Greta". This was changed to "Kristal" as "Kristal" starts with a K like her father, and it also has "Kris" in the name, as in "Kris Kringle", one of Santa's various names.

[porcuprick]

A WAY TOO LONG CLASSPECT ANAYLISIS OF KRIS DELTARUNE

i do not apologize.

tldr: Kris is a Knight of Heart because alot of their shown abilitys and over all theme of protection (espically towards noelle) and infered insecurity relating to their soul line up mostly with knight and. come on. heart is obvious.

Heart is pretty obvious to me. Its all about Souls and the Self. The soul of course already being their defining trait. And identity in a way i also feel can be atributed to kris under the fact that alot of Kris's ACTUAL identity is hidden under the players actions.

A knight is said to Exploit and Weaponise their aspect. Or Exploit and Weaponise THROUGH their aspect

We see examples of this exploiting and weaponizing through Dave. Who exploites his aspect of Time to get a shit ton of grist and be pretty much to most active player in the session. Using time to get himself rad ass weapons early and get a few fraymotifs. Something even john at the top of his echiladder couldnt afford.

Dave also heavily uses time as a weapon. A prime example is [S] Dave: Accelerate. Also helps he's able to spawn timeclones of himself to help out in combat.

With examples of Kris exploting/weaponizing their aspect, deltarune itself has already shown this in the form of the spamton NEO fight Where Kris is able to WEAPONIZE their soul by turining it yellow. Allowing it to fire off blasts that destroy Spamton Neos bullets.

Witch might as well be a thing possable in homestuck seeing how Davepetasprite was able to engagde undertale style combat with Lord English. Who MIGHT AS WELL be a Knight of Heart anyway if we assume combined people sprites would combine their aspects.

Kris also EXPLOITES their Soul in fights such as the chaos king and queen fights, Where their able to use ACTs such as COURAGE, RED BUSTER and DUEL HEAL.

Kris is able to use their Soul to buff themselfs and their teamates via the Souls Light and enhance Susies RUDE BUSTER and Ralseis HEAL PRAYER.

So we have the more power style of analysis down. Lets look at the more personal side of classpects.

Knights have a desire to protect

We see this in Karkat who constantly tried to protect the friendship (blood) that unites the people he cares about.

And Dave who is constently trying to protect the alpha timeline by creating stable timeloops. The whole "Dead Daves are the enemy" thing.

while we dont have an example yet of kris protecting someones identity or something, We know that Knights Protect just In general.

See Davesprite. Who EXPLOITED time to become davesprite in order to PROTECT john from just skipping to the last gate and dying.

Protecting seems to be a theme with Kris in general.

Of course theres that scene where kris protects Susie from Kings atttacks all on their own without the players input. Susie even remarking on this.

But even before this scene Kris joins in on kneeling to the king in a bid to protect lancer as well.

People also often ask Kirs to protect Noelle.

A major case is Rudy trusting Kris enough to ask them to keep an eye out when he cant.

and also catti asking kris to protect her from Susie.

Noelle herself even uses kris as a form of protection often asking for them to help her in someway.

Including ducking behind them during the road crossing sections.

However like with susie kirs has shown that their willing to protect Noelle themself as well without the player, Such as when when they actively step back to try and block queen from getting a closer look.

and of course theres snowgrave

We can assume that some dialouge options are more accurate to what kris WANTS the player to say. Espically the backout options on the snowgrave route as the game makes it VERY clear that kris is shaken up by the snowgrave route. Susie even commenting on it once the group re-unite.

And well. The obvious fact that its not kris telling Noelle to proceed.

However. The abort option that happens pre-berdly fight has kris yelling

"Im protecting her from you!"

witch could easily be infered as kris trying to tell this to the player, As even Berdly has to ASK if kris is talking to him.

So yeah. A pretty big focus on Kris and Protection. Even though most of it is directed to Noelle.

and while the aspect of noelle being a childhood friend can seem like a more BLOOD related action.

Dont Forget that DAVESPRITE a knight of TIME gave up both his timeline AND his humanity in order to protect John, His best friend. a simular blood-ish action proformed by a non-blood knight.

theres also of course the idea that knights hide part of themselfs under insecurity.

And while theres not alot of evidence for this with kris it seems. They do still hide their soul before slashing the tires.

And it would make sense for kris to be afraid of their friends finding out about their possession. Could you imagine if this whole time your friend was just being puppitiered by someone else? How would you know if any of their actions where geniuine?

even when kris freaks out after the spamton neo fight their still unable to explain anything.

Insecurity about their possession situation, something tied to their HEART i feel makes sense i feel.

So yeah. Theres my dumb stupid analysis thing on why i think Kris Deltarune would be a Knight of Heart thansk for reading, get out of my house.

[pyreo]

deltarune megapost

I wanted to make a Deltarune post about the lore and the things that aren’t  obvious. And once I do that I wanna focus on why Mettaton is incredibly important to this setting

And also why he poses a problem

Why did Toriel and Asgore get divorced?

Without the setting of Undertale, Asgore and Toriel’s marriage still broke up after they had Asriel. There needs to be a reason though. In UT it was Asgore’s ‘worst of both worlds’ decision regarding killing anybody that fell from the human world, including children. We saw how close they were before this happened. Only something deep and serious caused that rift. In Deltarune, what on earth did Asgore do?

What happened to Dess?

Mentioned a handful of times by Noelle, Dess was her older sister and is mentioned In Undertale.... in that Xbox exclusing casino thing. The way Noelle talks about her, the conspicuous way Noelle gets locked out of her big house - it implies Dess is gone or deceased. Berdly recalls a spelling bee when he and Noelle were younger where she, despite being smarter than him, misspelled ‘December’, allowing him to win.

In the two-player spelling puzzle, it also spells out ‘December’ as Noelle recalls the past and her silhouette regresses to a child while she does so. Being distracted by her sister’s disappearance, rather than pure shyness, could account for her misspelling her name on stage, and it clearly left a big psychological mark for her to have this visual regression in the Dark World.

However, there’s a graveyard in Hometown with no Dess. I heard another theory that she has been missing for years, because where each character’s personal room is made by Queen to reflect their tastes via their search results, Noelle has a calendar where every day is December 25th. This could imply that Noelle continually searches the internet for ‘December Holiday’, her sister’s name, to see if there are clues to her disappearance, but of course the only result you would get is the date of Christmas.

Who is the Knight?

It’s now implied to be Kris, who has been forcibly removing the player’s influence to act on their own. By all accounts the Knight is the game’s main antagonist. Spade King and Queen both mention the Knight as someone who influenced their position - they brought Spade King to absolute power, and showed Queen that creation of new worlds was possible.

We’re led to believe that Kris was doing this, because they’ve been acting outside of the player’s control. Eating the entire pie between chapter 1 and 2 might have been a red herring to cover that they also went to the library and used that knife to slash open a dark fountain there.

However. This has issues. How would they even manage to shuffle slowly all the way to the library and get in the computer lab? The Knight is also the one creating the hidden bosses. They talked to Jevil until he realised he was in a game and he lost his mind; they ruined Spamton’s life by elevating him to success and then crushing him. Whatever the Knight is doing seems to be deliberately planned with key players in mind.

Kris opening the fountain at home at the end of ch.2 can be explained in that you just figured out in Cyber World that anyone determined enough can do this, and so, Kris decided to. So a better question might even be...

What does Kris want?

We have no idea. They are capable of removing the SOUL, ‘us’, temporarily, and putting things in motion we cannot influence. But they also keep putting us back in control afterward. This is hinted at right when ch.2 starts, where if you inspect the cage in Kris’s bedroom they threw us into, the description says it’s inescapable. Meaning Kris came back and took us out, willingly.

They allow us to pilot them through the game. Why? Because they cannot live without the SOUL for long for some reason? Because they’re bad at bullet hell? Why did they slash Toriel’s tyres before opening the fountain, making sure nobody could drive away?? Why did they specifically open the door?

You can find out details about Kris through the creepy way you interact with the townsfolk, who think you are Kris. They play the piano at the hospital waiting room - better than you. They used to go to church just to get the special church juice. It’s all normal, relatable things, not like someone who’s trying to plunge the world into darkness. Judging by their search history portrayed in their Queen’s castle room, they really want to see their brother again. However the castle has a room based on Asriel’s search history too, and Kris (not you) closes their eyes and won’t look at it.

What is Ralsei?

His name is an anagram of Asriel. Is he an extension of Asriel? The slightly flirtier dialogue in ch.2 would point to no. Is he an extension of Kris themselves, given the link between Kris’s childhood habit of wearing a headband with red horns on it, to pretend to be a monster like their family?

Ralsei knows exactly where the Dark World in the school is located, and unlike regular Darkners, knows the world is folded up inside the ‘real world’. There’s a certain whiplash to Ralsei telling you to hop out of his reality into yours and go down the hallway to retrieve all the board game items.

How does he jump from one Dark World to another, without assistance? How does he not get petrified like Lancer and Rouxls? Is this a power level thing because he’s a prince or something else? We definitely do not know enough about Ralsei.

He also says this incredibly suspicious thing after you spare Spamton NEO. Susie was also curious but accepts that maybe it ‘didn’t mean anything’, which is a sure tell that these optional bosses do mean something.

Someone is orchestrating what’s happening, opening fountains, manipulating the rulers, and influencing NPCs to become the optional bosses. Why? I suspect Ralsei for both knowing too much, and pretending something doesn’t matter when it clearly does. Until Asriel actually comes home from college I’m going to suspect he’s involved in this too.

How much does Seam know?

Seam on the other hand knows a lot about what’s going on but is openly withholding information while helping you. He’s nihilistic. He says things like:

One day soon... You too, will begin to realize the futility of your actions. Ha ha ha... At that time, feel free to come back here. I'll make you tea... And we can toast... to the end of the world!

Either this ‘end of the world’ is a reference to The Roaring, where opening too many dark fountains dooms the Dark World and the real one... or, I can’t get out of my head the idea that Deltarune takes place in a fake, or weird reconstruction of Undertale where things don’t match up, and eventually it will have to disappear. After all, powers of determination and creating and manipulating universes are Undertale’s basic bread and butter. How can we look at an Alternate Universe containing the characters we already know and not suspect that? Seam also uses Gaster’s key words, ‘darker, yet darker’, seemingly to clue us in that he’s not off track here.

Why haven’t we seen Papyrus?

This is a bright neon flashing ‘something’s not right’ sign. It’s not like Papyrus’s voice actor was too busy or anything. His absence is noticable and for a reason. Nice of Sans to promise we could meet him despite being aware we’re piloting a child’s body around, though, even if he didn’t follow through.

What locations in town could be used for dark fountains in the next 4 chapters?

If the sequence continues, we have chapter 1 in the school games room, chapter 2 in a computer lab, and chapter 3 in front of Kris’s television, where the aesthetic of each setting influences the world, characters, and enemies in the Dark World created there. Future possibilities include the church, the hospital, sans’s grocery store, Noelle’s house, and the closed bunker.

What the hell’s in the closed bunker

This one’s too obvious, honestly. I think it’ll open for no reason in chapter 7 and a little white dog will bounce out and steal one of your key items and nothing else happens.

Why does Asgore have these

Unlike the bunker feeling like a joke teaser, I gotta believe this is foreshadowing something weird. For example, what does opening a dark fountain in here with the seven flowers do? Does it just take you into Undertale?

Each chapter will have a hidden boss with a ‘soul mode’ from Undertale

Chapter 1 let you stay red, but I think each subsequent chapter is going to change your soul mode to one of the seven colours and design the encounter around that. Purple, yellow, green and blue were used in Undertale, leaving the light blue and orange modes yet to be revealed.

How does Spamton emulate Mettaton Neo’s name, body, and incorporate his battle theme, and the ‘Dummy!’ theme, with no actual connection between them ingame?

This is a really fun one that’s explained over in this post here. Swatch is the Dark World creation from the paint program on the library computers, so he’s able to explain that a Lightner made the robot body decaying in the castle basement that way.

Mettaton went to the library and drew his ideal form, Mettaton NEO, in MS Paint, and the Dark World formed that into a puppet body which Spamton was able to hijack temporarily. So by doing that Spamton was able to channel Mettaton’s appearance, attacks, music, and SOUL mode for the fight.

This might mean that the future hidden bosses, each with their own SOUL mode, might be based on the associated character for that mode (Muffet, Undyne, and Sans or Papyrus), and the boss will take on some aspect of them from their world to leech their fight mechanics.

The Problem With Mettaton

We don’t exactly know what Deltarune is about. It’s an alternate universe where the characters from Undertale already live on the surface, have completely normal lives, but diverge from the storyline of Undertale and, crucially, have not lived through the changes Frisk brought to their lives.

Remember how Undertale had a dozen different ending routes depending on who you befriended? The constant reinforcement in Undertale was that your choices mattered. Through Frisk, you chose to bring Alphys closure about her mistakes, you chose to befriend papyrus instead of attacking him, you chose to help Alphys and Undyne realise their feelings for each other and it’s only doing that that leads to the golden ending and escape to the surface.

Deltarune is the opposite, your choices do not matter. The only thing you can do to force the route of the game to change is to force Noelle into a No Mercy run, which is indirect, and also, a total desperation to mess with an otherwise set course. This version of the characters have not been helped by Frisk - Undyne and Alphys are not together, Papyrus has no friends, Asgore cannot get over himself, and they’re clearly the worse for it, but potentially, you COULD still do these things. In fact it’s hinted that you already are.

But there’s Mettaton.

He’s still a ghost and does not leave his house. In Frisk’s world, Gaster deleted himself, promoting Alphys to royal scientist by bluffing with Mettaton, and she then build him his ideal body. In Kris’s world... Alphys is a school teacher. There’s no barrier to break, no reason to experiment on souls, no Flowey mistake, and no body for Mettaton.

It was sad in Ch.1, but now with the Spamton NEO fight in ch.2, it’s unmissable. Mettaton wants that body and he cannot get it. Alphys in this universe is not going to leave her teaching job and suddenly be able to build a robot. Mettaton is just... screwed out of his happy ending and cannot get it.

So what resolution could this have? If it wasn’t for Mettaton I might believe in the vaildity of Deltarune and Hometown. But. How can you doom this character? If Undertale was the only way Mettaton could be befriended, then Undertale is Primary Universe A and Seam is right - the world of Deltarune is doomed as some kind of aberration. It all relies on how this gets explained in the future, but the core mystery of Deltarune is how exactly this universe intersects with Undertale and whether one is an offshoot of the other. How the Dark World links into that is another complication. But even as we get more fun characters and neat stuff in the Dark Worlds, let’s not forget we have absolutely no idea why Undertale’s characters are living here with no mention of underground or why there are no other humans beside Kris.

[awanderingdeal]

thanks for getting your asks back on ! I was thinking of some quality james and sirius shenanigans- i loved the way you wrote leo giving reg a childhood, with the separate scenes, so i was thinking an escalating prank war between the two :)

Hehehehe, I loved writing this one. Writing Sirius in Sweater Weather land can sometimes be so serious, and this was a wonderfully light exception. Honestly, I could have gone on forever, but it was getting a tad long. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the prompt, anon.

CW: lots of pranking (nothing malicious though), food mentions

Rating: G

Credit for the Sweater Weather universe goes to @lumosinlove. Definitely go check her stuff out!

James placed the last sticky note on the back of Sirius' door with a triumphant smile. It had taken him several hours to cover every inch of the room with the squares, strategically interspersing red ones within the yellow to spell out 'James Potter is the best'. He was supposed to be sorting his friend's mail, and watering the plants whilst he was on vacation, but he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to leave him an unexpected present for when he arrived home tomorrow. James knew it was a little childish, but his and Sirius' relationship was practically founded on pranks. They had started off teaming up against Dumo's notorious locker room schemes, before turning on one another. Of course, James had been the one to start it. He remembered how nervous he'd been as he had filled Sirius' locker with hundreds of bouncy balls, wondering if the Captain would truly see it as a betrayal. Sirius had been so unpredictable back then, but he'd just turned his steely glare onto James' as the balls sprung from their confinement and said, "game on, Potter."

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"Why is there a goat in my lounge?" James murmured to himself, even as he bounced excitably across the room to pet the animal. He held his hand out to introduce himself when he heard a bleating that certainly had not come from Bertie. That was what he had named the goat. Another goat trotted out from behind the sofa, its legs seemingly a little too long its body.

"What the hell?" James wondered, but he wasn't going to question the appearance of mystery kids for too long. He'd deal with the situation once he'd had his fill of cuddles with Bertie and, James cocked his head, yeah this one looked like a Lula.

He crossed his legs underneath him, gently stroking the animals when a piglet appeared. James had been too distracted to see where it had made its entrance from, and right now he didn't care. "Oh my God! Look at it!" Before his excitement could settle, another piglet and two lambs made their way through the archway of the door.

James stood, tracing their steps back to where they had made their way in. He rounded the corner to find twelve chickens pecking at the floor, seed spread all over the tile. James blinked rapidly wondering if he'd hit his head harder than he thought at practise earlier, but the view in front of him stayed the same.

The sound of the front door clicking shut jolted him from his confusion. "James." Lily voice had a question lilt to it. "Why has our house turned into a farmyard?"

"Errr," James hurried to find his girlfriend. "I can explain." He held his hands up placatingly, letting them drop to his side quickly. "Well, actually I can't, but I'm sure there is an explanation." It was then Sirius' gave a loud barking laugh, his head sticking out from behind the sofa and James could hear his legs kicking against the ground.

Lily's mouth turned into a devious smile, her shoulders shaking.

James gasped.

"I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

James looked up from his menu, schooling his expression into the most innocent one he could manage as he watched Sirius make his way across the restaurant to the team's usual table.

"Err, Cap. You seem to have a little..." Finn rubbed at his own cheek before looking around at the rest of the table, who were sheepishly looking down at their menus. "Was I not supposed to mention it?"

"Just what we were all thinking Harzy," Thomas snorted a laugh.

"Seems you had a little mishap in the beauty department, Cap. Maybe leave it to the pros next time?" James grinned. The next thing he knew Sirius was placing a container of his moisturiser on the table in front of him. The taller man unscrewed the cap, raising an eyebrow at the contents.

"Don't suppose you would know anything about this, ey, Potter?"

James titled his head slightly. He knew what the cream was; it was the exact tanning cream he used himself. Only, his skin was significantly darker than his friends.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"I know this was you, James and I will get you back."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan tapped his wrist, where his Rolex rested when he was off the ice, his face contorted into a disapproving expression. "What time do you call this, Potts?"

"Hey," Kris called. "Give the man a break. It's difficult to get out the house when you've got a new born!"

James frowned, biting at his lower lip. "Sorry coach, I don't know what to say. I swear I had loads of time when I left the house," he apologised, shrugging his shoulders at the older man. James was sure that he had followed his normal routine, but when he'd noticed the clock in the locker room showed he was nearly an hour late, he'd been thrown. At first, he assumed it had just got stuck the previous day so he checked his phone. He had time. Then, he'd seen the glowing light of the office clock read the same as the one on the wall, and his eyes fell on to clothing strewn around the room. Everybody else was already here. Including Nado, who was predictably late everywhere. James been too flustered trying to throw his training gear on to check much else out.

"Don't worry about it James. We'll forgive you this time," Sirius mumbled, staring down at the tablet he was clutching in his hands. James leaned over to see what play he watching when he saw the time.

"You little fucker!"

[rosepetalwings]

Oh I'm More Than Glad To Talk About Deeprune

ok so lets run through the au in sections

DEEPRUNE

Story:

The cast are now all mythological mermaid/siren creatures.

The Light World is the epipelagic zone (and upper half of mesopelagic zone) of the ocean and live in ignorance of the strange creatures that look as they do in the twilight below...

Dark World is mid-mesopelagic and below, full of frightening sea creatures those so blessed to live in sea reef coral homes could never hope to fathom... and should never hope to meet.

One day, one of the 4 kings of the ocean basins drew help from a powerful, unknown force and imprisoned his peers at the bottom of the deep sea trenches... And to this day, he rules his little area, biding his time for the day the Dark can take over the Light.

That is, of course, unless a very human looking siren, a sea crocodile tough girl, a bioluminscent jellyfish(?) fluffy boy, and a villainous... cloaked hybrid thing can fulfill a very familiar prophecy...

Locations:

Light Zone

Hometown - A bright and cheerful coral reef with a good amount of merfolk in the community.

School ‐ Building constructed out of stone and hidden amongst normal marine foliage and coral. Normal congregations of school akin to what the land-dwellers (or terrans, as the merfolk might call them) do for their own children.

Hospital ‐ Made in the same way as the school and serves the same function as its land counterpart. The hospital does have different instruments to serve its marine patients, however.

QC's diner - Hidden under a rock shelf and is more of an open seating arrangement. Fan coral serves as a sort of decorative barrier to keep the seating plan from being too open.

ICEE's p"e"zzeria - Incredibly conspicuous and placed between the brightest coral on the reef for the attention-grabbing colors. High visibility means free advertising, no?

The Graveyard - In a clearing among the kelp forest, there lies a set of engraved stones covered in algae. It's especially quiet there. Peaceful when you focus on the sunlight filtering in through the kelp stalks.

The bunker - Placed just before the continental shelf begins to fall off into complete and utter darkness. The merfolk in town warn their children to never near that area.

Dark Zone

????? - A craggy mess of rocks on the outskirts of the continental shelf. The light begins to grow strange here for whatever reason...

Castle Town - A shipwreck amongst the craggy rocks in the dark where a strangely kind shadowy figure lives.

Field - A seemingly endless stretch of ocean in which a Lightner's vision alone cannot be used to find one's way in the dark, lest they be horribly lost until the end of time. Or lest they stray further down, where it grows darker, yet darker...

The Scarlet Forest - Not really a forest, per se. More a jestful remark over the collection of sea creatures that have evolved to have a red tone to their skin as camouflage in the watery depths. The creatures are so very frightening and strange with their sharp-toothed open maws and flashy photophores. Strange to think how normal this all is down in the depths...

Great Board - The inlets and caves that checker the continental slope and house very many deep sea merfolk. Very many large tunnels dug out to house many of the population and keep them interconnected as a society. Alas, this stationary grouping also makes them vulnerable to the power of kingly apex predators.

The Castle - Hidden within the depths of the Mariana Trench. None of the Board have seen the castle in such grave depths and lived to tell the tale. None but a strange barreleye and his hyper young ward...

Characters:

Lightners

Kris - A mostly human-shaped siren, save for fishy bits, including but not limited to, gills and an iridescent shine to their hair. Always sneaking off to play tricks on unsuspecting beach goers. Kind of a quiet kid but their mischievous grin says it all for them.

Susie - A rude, rough-and-tumble kind of sea crocodile gill girl that does not appreciate nautical wordplay. She will appreciate your lunch money, though.

Noelle - The most nervous kelpie you'll ever meet. Easily provoked but she's very sweet and intelligent and perhaps she's a shade dorky, but it's through that dorkiness she'll find a way to make you smile.

Asriel - Sweet and effortlessly loveable and smart and talented capricorn brother to Kris who's just gone off to do independent study in a different sea basin! He's coming back to town next week; Kris seems a little downcast as of late, though...

Alphys - Marine iguana teacher at the reef's local school. Please don't ask her for her reviews on neat human media she's managed to salvage, we'll be here all week.

Undyne - The undying undine on everyone's minds! ...Because she's likely tried to tackle you for minor offenses like littering or jay-swimming in the humdrum life of this little reef town. She's somewhat of a vigilante, working by her own judicial metrics and warning the reef of any terran sightings or other such troubles. Not much to report on though, these days...

Toriel & Asgore - The capricorn divorcees. Haven't you heard; the news has spread all over the place! What a shame too, they looked just like the perfect reef family...

Sans and Papyrus - The strange brothers that just moved into the reef... Coelacanth merfolk with mottled, skeletal appearances. The shorter brother "runs" the reef market. ...If you can get a fin in the door, anyway. The taller one hasn't made much of a public appearance in town yet; hard to comment on him.

Darkners

Ralsei - The prince of the prophesy, as well as the bringer of Light to the Dark, as symbolized through his charmed hat and cloak, to make him appear as though he is but a jellyfish that sways with the currents. Seems to be as soft in personality as a jellyfish's bell though.

Lancer - A hooded, mischievous figure that's always up to no good. It's kind of hard to tell what he is, with his short, stubby tentacles and furry, webbed paws, but he's kind of too adorable and personable to care much about it. Popular vote's on dumbo octopus though.

Rouxls - A vigilant barreleye with his haunting eyes always to the sky in search of tributes to pay his king or danger from which to protect the child of a royal bloodline he's been entrusted to care for. He's ditzy and kind of an asshole, but deep down, he's got a good SOUL... that glows through his transparent chest.

Seam - Ah? Looking for wares? Seam's will definitely have something to cure what ails you. The old anglerfish sits behind the shop counter, items lit only by the faint light of small jellies and the wisened shopkeep's lantern-like forehead protrusion. Go for the low prices and stay for the enchanting tales.

Jevil - A laugh sounds in the dark before you could ever approach his cell. He's nothing but needle teeth smiles when he explains to you the nature of the game. Numbers game. Must be a couple of sharks to have gotten down there in the first place. And this freed jester wouldn't have it any other way - sharks to goblin shark.

King - He is, by all accounts, imperceivable. He is larger than life and covered in shifting, writhing appendages that do not keep the shape you once thought them to be, no matter how hard you attempt to keep your focus on any point of his form. He is Leviathan, and the fact that you are before him means that you are incredibly fucked.

Knight - [REDACTED]

PREVIOUS DRAWINGS

Rouxls and a mysterious man

Unmasked Lancer

okay... i think that's about it! don't be afraid to ask for more clarification on anything, i know i gave general overview/musing blurb of... kind of everything i could think to describe! hope this is fine!

or ask me to infodump on another of my AUs! ;3c

[pastelsandpining]

My Only Wish (Naughty or Nice)

The fifth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

Cover Art: coming soon!

Words: 2087

Summary: Zelda reads about a foreign holiday called Christmas and decides to bring to life one of the traditions for the other Champions. She’ll need a red suit and a bag of gifts, but luckily she knows just the person to pull off the holly, jolly Santa Claus.

BotW Pre-Calamity Zelink, not AoC related!

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

Link was beginning to wonder if the pressure was getting to the princess. She was always pushing forwards in the face of adversity, but it wasn’t her frustration and sadness that made him believe she’d finally cracked. 

It was when they took up residence in her study and she whirled on him with a book in her hands about goddesses only knew what.

“I’ve conducted some research,” she began, which was not new to him but filled him with a sense of playful dread anyway, “regarding Hylia’s Day and other holidays we celebrate here in Hyrule. We know that culture and religion are the basis of all holidays, and the difference in what is celebrated and how stems from those traditions. I was curious about the world outside of Hyrule. I thought perhaps I could read something about their beliefs and traditions that could help me awaken my power, but I found a celebration that’s incredibly similar to ours.”

She dropped the book on her desk and cracked it open, beckoning for him to join her. He stepped over, standing close enough so that when he leaned forwards to join her over the pages of the book, he could smell the flowery scent of her hair. 

He couldn’t read anything on the page. Not when his attention was taken up entirely by her. So he listened to her speak again, following her fingers dancing along the page.

“A religion referred to as Christianity celebrates something called Christmas. For worshipers of the faith, this day is celebrated as the birth of their savior. But the holiday became something widely celebrated by people not of that faith. It became a day of giving gifts and spending time with family. People decorate with trees and lights and hold grand parties. And just like how Hylia brings joy and peace to families on Hylia’s Eve, they too have a figure that travels to every corner of the world, leaving gifts for the children! Multiple sources have claimed that this figure keeps a list sorting the children into categories—meaning whether or not they’ve been naughty in the past year, or nice. Naughty children are given coal, which is quite funny really. He goes by quite a bit of names, too. Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas—but they’re essentially talking about the same figure.”

“There’s a lot of similarities,” Link agreed, glancing in her direction. 

“I know what you’re thinking. What does any of this have to do with the sealing power?” Her cheeks flushed, the pink tint reaching to the tips of her ears. “Well, ah… it doesn’t. But Hylia’s Day is coming up and… and everyone’s been so down and patience is wearing thin and I thought perhaps we could do something to cheer everyone up.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of unseen force compelled him to obey the princess. Yet he couldn’t even bring himself to think that the scheme she’d come up with was absurd. He’d follow her to the ends of Hyrule should she ask him to. 

It was why he wasn’t exactly surprised to find himself accompanying Zelda and a holly, jolly Daruk across Hyrule. Though he couldn’t believe the princess had actually crafted the entirety of Father Christmas’s red outfit.

“This Sandy Claws really doesn’t know fashion,” the Goron said, adjusting the hat upon his head. “The less restrictive the clothing, the better for movement.”

“You play the part very well,” Zelda assured, patting the towering boulder on the arm. “Besides, I read that he’s quite the eater. Children leave out cookies and milk for him, so perhaps you’ll get lucky tonight.”

“If the cookies are prime, crunchy rock, then I can hardly resist. Right, brother?”

Daruk slapped him on his back, sending Link tumbling forwards. Zelda’s arms caught him, and he was quick to regain his balance with the feeling that the Goron did that on purpose.

“Besides, we’re really only visiting the other Champions. I wish we could do more, but we’re lacking the magical sleigh that can travel at the speed of light,” Zelda spoke again, tapping away at the Sheikah Slate. 

“Santa leaving Santa a gift, huh?”

“Oh, Link already took care of that. You’re not allowed to open it until the morning.”

Daruk turned to look at him, surprised. Link only shrugged with a small, only slightly smug smile.

“I’m sneaky,” he said. The Goron laughed and Link took a step closer to Zelda to prevent being slapped on the back and sent tumbling off of Death Mountain.

“So what did you deem me?” Daruk asked, his hands resting on his hips to Link’s utter relief.

“Nice, of course,” Zelda replied with a pat to his arm. “I can’t think of anyone who might be classified as naughty.”

Link could think of one.

But he didn’t voice his opinion and instead shrugged in agreement, and the three of them were off to Zora’s Domain. He had to admit wearing the green of the mythical Santa’s Elves was an experience—he felt a sort of respect for the color. But it was nothing compared to how Zelda looked in her costume. She’d really gone all out for this, with a green little hat and all. It was cute, and admirable really, that she was willing to go so far to spread happiness. 

Happiness they desperately needed right now, with the Calamity looming ever above their heads and constricting them like a snake.

Anyway.

He supposed it would’ve been hard for anyone not to react upon seeing three oddly dressed individuals, Zora guardsmen included. But all the Princess of Hyrule had to do was smile and they let it go without question.

“What’s your ruling on Mipha, Father Christmas?” Zelda asked, lifting the Sheikah Slate.

“Nice,” Daruk decided, rather unsurprisingly. But Link nodded in agreement.

“Sidon too. Can’t leave something for Mipha and not her little brother,” he pointed out.

“I’m hurt you think I hadn’t considered that,” replied Zelda with a satisfied smile. “Alright, each package is specifically wrapped. Mipha gets the red box with the blue bow, and Sidon is the blue box with the red bow.”

Daruk swung the red sack from his shoulder and rummaged through it.

“You might have to do this one, tiny princess. Not sure how the big guy does it without waking anyone.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re more than capable! We’ll be right there with you,” Zelda encouraged, pulling something from the Sheikah Slate. “But if you feel you need it, I made an elixir that increases stealth.”

“What would we do without you?” 

The trip into Zora’s domain was relatively short after that. Zelda slipped into Mipha’s room to deliver the gift while Daruk and Link took care of Sidon, and she was pleased to know it’d been successful. Then, they were on their way to Gerudo for the next Champion. 

“Urbosa was incredibly hard to gift,” the princess said, thinking aloud. But Link was listening anyway, glancing over to her incase she decided to continue. 

“What did you end up getting her?” Daruk asked as he paused to rummage through the sack of presents. 

“Something of my mother’s,” Zelda replied simply, eyeing the small, wrapped box. “I think she would treasure it.”

A tiny smile graced her lips and Link felt his fingers twitch with the urge to take her hand. But she didn’t look sad. If anything, she looked comforted.

“You should deliver this one, Princess. I mean, Santa or not, Link and I can’t get into town,” Daruk pointed out. 

“I’ll be quick,” she promised before disappearing behind the walls of Gerudo Town. And while he knew she was safe there, he always felt an anxiety he couldn’t place.

“She’s real spirited,” said Daruk, nearly knocking Link over with his nudge. “It’s mighty kind of her to want to do this for us.”

“She wants to spread happiness,” he replied with a small shrug. 

“And is it working?” the Goron asked. Link didn’t answer, but he made a point to not look at Daruk and instead kept his gaze on the arching entrance to the town. A few minutes later, Zelda came back out and the group made their way to Hebra.

“Revali,” Zelda spoke, tapping at the slate. “What’s your ruling?”

“Naughty,” Link replied, without missing a beat. The Princess stared at him for a moment, then pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter. 

“I don’t want to agree, but..” Daruk said, scratching his beard, “he did call me an ‘oversized pebble’.”

“Revali’s just..” 

“Mean,” Link input, cutting Zelda off without really intending to.

“I was going to say young.”

“Well, so are you and the little guy here!” Daruk argued.

“Revali is a strong personality, and the Rito are a proud people,” Zelda stated, crossing her arms over her chest. “It would be rather rude to gift everyone but him.”

“I thought Santa’s whole thing was rewarding the good and punishing the bad,” said Daruk.

“Yes, but Revali isn’t bad, per say. Besides, we didn’t bring any coal.”

“I live on a volcano.”

“..Daruk.. tell me you did not pack coal.”

“That would be a lie, tiny princess.”

It was Link’s turn to fight back a laugh this time, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep it contained.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop you. But be sure to leave the real present too!”

But Daruk had disappeared into Rito Village, leaving the elf-dressed duo behind.

“I still think Revali would be on the naughty list,” Link said with a shrug. Zelda gave him a playful shove.

“Be nice,” she reprimanded, shaking her head.

“Do you think it’s possible for Revali to be nice?”

“I— I refuse to speak ill about any of my Champions,” but she was smiling through her words and that was enough of an agreement for Link. “I do hope Daruk hurries. I’m not sure how long the stealth elixir will last.”

“I’m sure that would make for an interesting sight to wake up to.”

To that, she laughed. Maybe the best part of the night was getting to spend time with her outside of Calamity related business. It almost felt like they were friends.

And then Daruk was back, and the group got ready to part ways. 

“Thank you, Daruk. It was fun,” Zelda spoke, setting a hand on his arm.

“The fun’s not done just yet, tiny princess. I’ve got two more on the nice list to gift.” The Goron pulled two more wrapped gifts from his bag, handed one to each of them, then set off for Death Mountain with a wink.

Link looked at the gift in his hands, something a little heavy with a beautiful wrapping job that could only have been done by nimble fingers. He glanced up at Zelda, who seemed just as surprised. 

Well, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who snuck something into the bag.

“Um,” she spoke, fiddling with her unopened gift. “I just.. it’s nothing big, but I.. I thought you’d enjoy it and you’re a Champion as well..”

Oh, it was a cue. Link nodded once, then carefully unwrapped the rectangular object. What remained in his hands was a book, and a fairly thick one at that.

“I had to beg every chef I know to get the recipes,” Zelda said again, taking a slight step forward. “It contains food from Faron to Goron City, as much as I could find. I also threw in some older recipes I found in cookbooks in the library, but I’m not sure how good any of them are.”

“I.. thank you,” Link replied, because there was really nothing he could say. He looked up at Zelda and offered a small smile, even if it wouldn’t be enough. 

She ducked her head and started to open her own gift. As soon as the treat was revealed, he found it was his turn to nervously explain.

“I heard it’s your favorite. I, uh, scribbled down a recipe I found, so if it’s not good..”

But she was smiling at him, and his words died on his tongue.

“My mother used to make a fruitcake every Hylia’s Day,” she said, and before he could give an apology or say anything else, she was hugging him. “Thank you.”

When Link returned to his quarters for the rest of the night away, he fell asleep with one thought in his head.

One day, he would love to cook every recipe in that book for the Princess.

[path-of-my-childhood]

The Rolling Stone Interview: Taylor Swift

By: Brian Hiatt for The Rolling Stone Magazine Date: September 18th 2019

In her most in-depth and introspective interview in years, Swift tells all about the rocky road to 'Lover' and much, much more.

Taylor Swift bursts into her mom’s Nashville kitchen, smiling, looking remarkably like Taylor Swift. (That red-lip, classic thing? Check.) “I need someone to help dye my hair pink,” she says, and moments later, her ends match her sparkly nail polish, sneakers, and the stripes on her button-down. It’s all in keeping with the pastel aesthetic of her new album, Lover; black-leather combat-Taylor from her previous album cycle has handed back the phone. Around the black-granite kitchen island, all is calm and normal, as Swift’s mom, dad, and younger brother pass through. Her mom’s two dogs, one very small, one very large, pounce upon visitors with slurping glee. It could be any 29-year-old’s weekend visit with her parents, if not for the madness looming a few feet down the hall.

In an airy terrace, 113 giddy, weepy, shaky, still-in-disbelief fans are waiting for the start of one of Swift’s secret sessions, sacred rituals in Swift-dom. She’s about to play them her seventh album, as-yet unreleased on this Sunday afternoon in early August, and offer copious commentary. Also, she made cookies. Just before the session, Swift sits down in her mom’s study (where she “operates the Google,” per her daughter) to chat for a few minutes. The black-walled room is decorated with black-and-white classic-rock photos, including shots of Bruce Springsteen and, unsurprisingly, James Taylor; there are also more recent shots of Swift posing with Kris Kristofferson and playing with Def Leppard, her mom’s favorite band.

In a corner is an acoustic guitar Swift played as a teenager. She almost certainly wrote some well-known songs on it, but can’t recall which ones. “It would be kind of weird to finish a song and be like, ‘And this moment, I shall remember,’'” she says, laughing. “‘This guitar hath been anointed with my sacred tuneage!'”

The secret session itself is, as the name suggests, deeply off-the-record; it can be confirmed that she drank some white wine, since her glass pops up in some Instagram pictures. She stays until 5 a.m., chatting and taking photos with every one of the fans. Five hours later, we continue our talk at length in Swift’s Nashville condo, in almost exactly the same spot where we did one of our interviews for her 2012 Rolling Stone cover story. She’s hardly changed its whimsical decor in the past seven years (one of the few additions is a pool table replacing the couch where we sat last time), so it’s an old-Taylor time capsule. There’s still a huge bunny made of moss in one corner, and a human-size birdcage in the living room, though the view from the latter is now of generic new condo buildings instead of just distant green hills. Swift is barefoot now, in pale-blue jeans and a blue button-down tied at the waist; her hair is pulled back, her makeup minimal.

How to sum up the past three years of Taylor Swift? In July 2016, after Swift expressed discontent with Kanye West’s “Famous,” Kim Kardashian did her best to destroy her, unleashing clandestine recordings of a phone conversation between Swift and West. In the piecemeal audio, Swift can be heard agreeing to the line “…me and Taylor might still have sex.” We don’t hear her learning about the next lyric, the one she says bothered her — “I made that bitch famous” — and as she’ll explain, there’s more to her side of the story. The backlash was, well, swift, and overwhelming. It still hasn’t altogether subsided. Later that year, Swift chose not to make an endorsement in the 2016 election, which definitely didn’t help. In the face of it all, she made Reputation — fierce, witty, almost-industrial pop offset by love songs of crystalline beauty — and had a wildly successful stadium tour. Somewhere in there, she met her current boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and judging by certain songs on Lover, the relationship is serious indeed.

Lover is Swift’s most adult album, a rebalancing of sound and persona that opens doors to the next decade of her career; it’s also a welcome return to the sonic diversity of 2012’s Red, with tracks ranging from the St. Vincent-assisted über-bop “Cruel Summer” to the unbearably poignant country-fied “Soon You’ll Get Better” (with the Dixie Chicks) and the “Shake It Off”-worthy pep of “Paper Rings.”

She wants to talk about the music, of course, but she is also ready to explain the past three years of her life, in depth, for the first time. The conversation is often not a light one. She’s built up more armor in the past few years, but still has the opposite of a poker face — you can see every micro-emotion wash over her as she ponders a question, her nose wrinkling in semi-ironic offense at the term “old-school pop stars,” her preposterously blue eyes glistening as she turns to darker subjects. In her worst moments, she says, “You feel like you’re being completely pulled into a riptide. So what are you going to do? Splash a lot? Or hold your breath and hope you somehow resurface? And that’s what I did. And it took three years. Sitting here doing an interview — the fact that we’ve done an interview before is the only reason I’m not in a full body sweat.”

When we talked seven years ago, everything was going so well for you, and you were very worried that something would go wrong. Yeah, I kind of knew it would. I felt like I was walking along the sidewalk, knowing eventually the pavement was going to crumble and I was gonna fall through. You can’t keep winning and have people like it. People love “new” so much — they raise you up the flagpole, and you’re waving at the top of the flagpole for a while. And then they’re like, “Wait, this new flag is what we actually love.” They decide something you’re doing is incorrect, that you’re not standing for what you should stand for. You’re a bad example. Then if you keep making music and you survive, and you keep connecting with people, eventually they raise you a little bit up the flagpole again, and then they take you back down, and back up again. And it happens to women more than it happens to men in music.

It also happened to you a few times on a smaller scale, didn’t it? I’ve had several upheavals in my career. When I was 18, they were like, “She doesn’t really write those songs.” So my third album I wrote by myself as a reaction to that. Then they decided I was a serial dater — a boy-crazy man-eater — when I was 22. And so I didn’t date anyone for, like, two years. And then they decided in 2016 that absolutely everything about me was wrong. If I did something good, it was for the wrong reasons. If I did something brave, I didn’t do it correctly. If I stood up for myself, I was throwing a tantrum. And so I found myself in this endless mockery echo chamber. It’s just like — I have a brother who’s two and a half years younger, and we spent the first half of our lives trying to kill each other and the second half as best friends. You know that game kids play? I’d be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And Austin would be like, “Mom, can I have some water?” And I’m like, “He’s copying me.” And he’d be like, “He’s copying me.” Always in a really obnoxious voice that sounds all twisted. That’s what it felt like in 2016. So I decided to just say nothing. It wasn’t really a decision. It was completely involuntary.

But you also had good things happen in your life at the same time — that’s part of Reputation. The moments of my true story on that album are songs like “Delicate,” “New Year’s Day,” “Call It What You Want,” “Dress.” The one-two punch, bait-and-switch of Reputation is that it was actually a love story. It was a love story in amongst chaos. All the weaponized sort of metallic battle anthems were what was going on outside. That was the battle raging on that I could see from the windows, and then there was what was happening inside my world — my newly quiet, cozy world that was happening on my own terms for the first time. . . . It’s weird, because in some of the worst times of my career, and reputation, dare I say, I had some of the most beautiful times — in my quiet life that I chose to have. And I had some of the most incredible memories with the friends I now knew cared about me, even if everyone hated me. The bad stuff was really significant and damaging. But the good stuff will endure. The good lessons — you realize that you can’t just show your life to people.

Meaning? I used to be like a golden retriever, just walking up to everybody, like, wagging my tail. “Sure, yeah, of course! What do you want to know? What do you need?” Now, I guess, I have to be a little bit more like a fox.

Do your regrets on that extend to the way the “girl squad” thing was perceived? Yeah, I never would have imagined that people would have thought, “This is a clique that wouldn’t have accepted me if I wanted to be in it.” Holy shit, that hit me like a ton of bricks. I was like, “Oh, this did not go the way that I thought it was going to go.” I thought it was going to be we can still stick together, just like men are allowed to do. The patriarchy allows men to have bro packs. If you’re a male artist, there’s an understanding that you have respect for your counterparts.

Whereas women are expected to be feuding with each other? It’s assumed that we hate each other. Even if we’re smiling and photographed together with our arms around each other, it’s assumed there’s a knife in our pocket.

How much of a danger was there of falling into that thought pattern yourself? The messaging is dangerous, yes. Nobody is immune, because we’re a product of what society and peer groups and now the internet tells us, unless we learn differently from experience.

You once sang about a star who “took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out.” In 2016, you wrote in your journal, “This summer is the apocalypse.” How close did you come to quitting altogether? I definitely thought about that a lot. I thought about how words are my only way of making sense of the world and expressing myself — and now any words I say or write are being twisted against me. People love a hate frenzy. It’s like piranhas. People had so much fun hating me, and they didn’t really need very many reasons to do it. I felt like the situation was pretty hopeless. I wrote a lot of really aggressively bitter poems constantly. I wrote a lot of think pieces that I knew I’d never publish, about what it’s like to feel like you’re in a shame spiral. And I couldn’t figure out how to learn from it. Because I wasn’t sure exactly what I did that was so wrong. That was really hard for me, because I cannot stand it when people can’t take criticism. So I try to self-examine, and even though that’s really hard and hurts a lot sometimes, I really try to understand where people are coming from when they don’t like me. And I completely get why people wouldn’t like me. Because, you know, I’ve had my insecurities say those things — and things 1,000 times worse.

But some of your former critics have become your friends, right? Some of my best friendships came from people publicly criticizing me and then it opening up a conversation. Hayley Kiyoko was doing an interview and she made an example about how I get away with singing about straight relationships and people don’t give me shit the way they give her shit for singing about girls — and it’s totally valid. Like, Ella — Lorde — the first thing she ever said about me publicly was a criticism of my image or whatever. But I can’t really respond to someone saying, “You, as a human being, are fake.” And if they say you’re playing the victim, that completely undermines your ability to ever verbalize how you feel unless it’s positive. So, OK, should I just smile all the time and never say anything hurts me? Because that’s really fake. Or should I be real about how I’m feeling and have valid, legitimate responses to things that happened to me in my life? But wait, would that be playing the victim?

How do you escape that mental trap? Since I was 15 years old, if people criticized me for something, I changed it. So you realize you might be this amalgamation of criticisms that were hurled at you, and not an actual person who’s made any of these choices themselves. And so I decided I needed to live a quiet life, because a quiet personal life invites no discussion, dissection, and debate. I didn’t realize I was inviting people to feel they had the right to sort of play my life like a video game.

“The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because she’s dead!” was funny — but how seriously should we take it? There’s a part of me that definitely is always going to be different. I needed to grow up in many ways. I needed to make boundaries, to figure out what was mine and what was the public’s. That old version of me that shares unfailingly and unblinkingly with a world that is probably not fit to be shared with? I think that’s gone. But it was definitely just, like, a fun moment in the studio with me and Jack [Antonoff] where I wanted to play on the idea of a phone call — because that’s how all of this started, a stupid phone call I shouldn’t have picked up.

It would have been much easier if that’s what you’d just said. It would have been so, so great if I would have just said that [laughs].

Some of the Lover iconography does suggest old Taylor’s return, though. I don’t think I’ve ever leaned into the old version of myself more creatively than I have on this album, where it’s very, very autobiographical. But also moments of extreme catchiness and moments of extreme personal confession.

Did you do anything wrong from your perspective in dealing with that phone call? Is there anything you regret? The world didn’t understand the context and the events that led up to it. Because nothing ever just happens like that without some lead-up. Some events took place to cause me to be pissed off when he called me a bitch. That was not just a singular event. Basically, I got really sick of the dynamic between he and I. And that wasn’t just based on what happened on that phone call and with that song — it was kind of a chain reaction of things.

I started to feel like we reconnected, which felt great for me — because all I ever wanted my whole career after that thing happened in 2009 was for him to respect me. When someone doesn’t respect you so loudly and says you literally don’t deserve to be here — I just so badly wanted that respect from him, and I hate that about myself, that I was like, “This guy who’s antagonizing me, I just want his approval.” But that’s where I was. And so we’d go to dinner and stuff. And I was so happy, because he would say really nice things about my music. It just felt like I was healing some childhood rejection or something from when I was 19. But the 2015 VMAs come around. He’s getting the Vanguard Award. He called me up beforehand — I didn’t illegally record it, so I can’t play it for you. But he called me up, maybe a week or so before the event, and we had maybe over an hourlong conversation, and he’s like, “I really, really would like for you to present this Vanguard Award to me, this would mean so much to me,” and went into all the reasons why it means so much, because he can be so sweet. He can be the sweetest. And I was so stoked that he asked me that. And so I wrote this speech up, and then we get to the VMAs and I make this speech and he screams, “MTV got Taylor Swift up here to present me this award for ratings!” [His exact words: “You know how many times they announced Taylor was going to give me the award ’cause it got them more ratings?”] And I’m standing in the audience with my arm around his wife, and this chill ran through my body. I realized he is so two-faced. That he wants to be nice to me behind the scenes, but then he wants to look cool, get up in front of everyone and talk shit. And I was so upset. He wanted me to come talk to him after the event in his dressing room. I wouldn’t go. So then he sent this big, big thing of flowers the next day to apologize. And I was like, “You know what? I really don’t want us to be on bad terms again. So whatever, I’m just going to move past this.” So when he gets on the phone with me, and I was so touched that he would be respectful and, like, tell me about this one line in the song.

The line being “. . . me and Taylor might still have sex”? [Nods] And I was like, “OK, good. We’re back on good terms.” And then when I heard the song, I was like, “I’m done with this. If you want to be on bad terms, let’s be on bad terms, but just be real about it.” And then he literally did the same thing to Drake. He gravely affected the trajectory of Drake’s family and their lives. It’s the same thing. Getting close to you, earning your trust, detonating you. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore because I get worked up, and I don’t want to just talk about negative shit all day, but it’s the same thing. Go watch Drake talk about what happened. [West denied any involvement in Pusha-T’s revelation of Drake’s child and apologized for sending “negative energy” toward Drake.]

When did you get to the place that’s described on the opening track of Lover, “I Forgot That You Existed”? It was sometime on the Reputation tour, which was the most transformative emotional experience of my career. That tour put me in the healthiest, most balanced place I’ve ever been. After that tour, bad stuff can happen to me, but it doesn’t level me anymore. The stuff that happened a couple of months ago with Scott [Borchetta] would have leveled me three years ago and silenced me. I would have been too afraid to speak up. Something about that tour made me disengage from some part of public perception I used to hang my entire identity on, which I now know is incredibly unhealthy.

What was the actual revelation? It’s almost like I feel more clear about the fact that my job is to be an entertainer. It’s not like this massive thing that sometimes my brain makes it into, and sometimes the media makes it into, where we’re all on this battlefield and everyone’s gonna die except one person, who wins. It’s like, “No, do you know what? Katy is going to be legendary. Gaga is going to be legendary. Beyoncé is going to be legendary. Rihanna is going to be legendary. Because the work that they made completely overshadows the myopia of this 24-hour news cycle of clickbait.” And somehow I realized that on tour, as I was looking at people’s faces. We’re just entertaining people, and it’s supposed to be fun.

It’s interesting to look at these albums as a trilogy. 1989 was really a reset button. Oh, in every way. I’ve been very vocal about the fact that that decision was mine and mine alone, and it was definitely met with a lot of resistance. Internally.

After realizing that things were not all smiles with your former label boss, Scott Borchetta, it’s hard not to wonder how much additional conflict there was over things like that. A lot of the best things I ever did creatively were things that I had to really fight — and I mean aggressively fight — to have happen. But, you know, I’m not like him, making crazy, petty accusations about the past. . . . When you have a business relationship with someone for 15 years, there are going to be a lot of ups and a lot of downs. But I truly, legitimately thought he looked at me as the daughter he never had. And so even though we had a lot of really bad times and creative differences, I was going to hang my hat on the good stuff. I wanted to be friends with him. I thought I knew what betrayal felt like, but this stuff that happened with him was a redefinition of betrayal for me, just because it felt like it was family. To go from feeling like you’re being looked at as a daughter to this grotesque feeling of “Oh, I was actually his prized calf that he was fattening up to sell to the slaughterhouse that would pay the most.”

He accused you of declining the Parkland march and Manchester benefit show. Unbelievable. Here’s the thing: Everyone in my team knew if Scooter Braun brings us something, do not bring it to me. The fact that those two are in business together after the things he said about Scooter Braun — it’s really hard to shock me. And this was utterly shocking. These are two very rich, very powerful men, using $300 million of other people’s money to purchase, like, the most feminine body of work. And then they’re standing in a wood-panel bar doing a tacky photo shoot, raising a glass of scotch to themselves. Because they pulled one over on me and got this done so sneakily that I didn’t even see it coming. And I couldn’t say anything about it.

In some ways, on a musical level, Lover feels like the most indie-ish of your albums. That’s amazing, thank you. It’s definitely a quirky record. With this album, I felt like I sort of gave myself permission to revisit older themes that I used to write about, maybe look at them with fresh eyes. And to revisit older instruments — older in terms of when I used to use them. Because when I was making 1989, I was so obsessed with it being this concept of Eighties big pop, whether it was Eighties in its production or Eighties in its nature, just having these big choruses — being unapologetically big. And then Reputation, there was a reason why I had it all in lowercase. I felt like it wasn’t unapologetically commercial. It’s weird, because that is the album that took the most amount of explanation, and yet it’s the one I didn’t talk about. In the Reputation secret sessions I kind of had to explain to my fans, “I know we’re doing a new thing here that I’d never done before.” I’d never played with characters before. For a lot of pop stars, that’s a really fun trick, where they’re like, “This is my alter ego.” I had never played with that before. It’s really fun. And it was just so fun to play with on tour — the darkness and the bombast and the bitterness and the love and the ups and the downs of an emotional-turmoil record.

“Daylight” is a beautiful song. It feels like it could have been the title track. It almost was. I thought it might be a little bit too sentimental.

And I guess maybe too on-the-nose. Right, yeah, way too on-the-nose. That’s what I thought, because I was kind of in my head referring to the album as Daylight for a while. But Lover, to me, was a more interesting title, more of an accurate theme in my head, and more elastic as a concept. That’s why “You Need to Calm Down” can make sense within the theme of the album — one of the things it addresses is how certain people are not allowed to live their lives without discrimination just based on who they love.

For the more organic songs on this album, like “Lover” and “Paper Rings,” you said you were imagining a wedding band playing them. How often does that kind of visualization shape a song’s production style? Sometimes I’ll have a strange sort of fantasy of where the songs would be played. And so for songs like “Paper Rings” or “Lover” I was imagining a wedding-reception band, but in the Seventies, so they couldn’t play instruments that wouldn’t have been invented yet. I have all these visuals. For Reputation, it was nighttime cityscape. I didn’t really want any — or very minimal — traditional acoustic instruments. I imagined old warehouse buildings that had been deserted and factory spaces and all this industrial kind of imagery. So I wanted the production to have nothing wooden. There’s no wood floors on that album. Lover is, like, completely just a barn wood floor and some ripped curtains flowing in the breeze, and fields of flowers and, you know, velvet.

How did you come to use high school metaphors to touch on politics with “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”? There are so many influences that go into that particular song. I wrote it a couple of months after midterm elections, and I wanted to take the idea of politics and pick a metaphorical place for that to exist. And so I was thinking about a traditional American high school, where there’s all these kinds of social events that could make someone feel completely alienated. And I think a lot of people in our political landscape are just feeling like we need to huddle up under the bleachers and figure out a plan to make things better.

I feel like your Fall Out Boy fandom might’ve slipped out in that title. I love Fall Out Boy so much. Their songwriting really influenced me, lyrically, maybe more than anyone else. They take a phrase and they twist it. “Loaded God complex/Cock it and pull it”? When I heard that, I was like, “I’m dreaming.”

You sing about “American stories burning before me.” Do you mean the illusions of what America is? It’s about the illusions of what I thought America was before our political landscape took this turn, and that naivete that we used to have about it. And it’s also the idea of people who live in America, who just want to live their lives, make a living, have a family, love who they love, and watching those people lose their rights, or watching those people feel not at home in their home. I have that line “I see the high-fives between the bad guys” because not only are some really racist, horrific undertones now becoming overtones in our political climate, but the people who are representing those concepts and that way of looking at the world are celebrating loudly, and it’s horrific.

You’re in this weird place of being a blond, blue-eyed pop star in this era — to the point where until you endorsed some Democratic candidates, right-wingers, and worse, assumed you were on their side. I don’t think they do anymore. Yeah, that was jarring, and I didn’t hear about that until after it had happened. Because at this point, I, for a very long time, I didn’t have the internet on my phone, and my team and my family were really worried about me because I was not in a good place. And there was a lot of stuff that they just dealt with without telling me about it. Which is the only time that’s ever happened in my career. I’m always in the pilot seat, trying to fly the plane that is my career in exactly the direction I want to take it. But there was a time when I just had to throw my hands up and say, “Guys, I can’t. I can’t do this. I need you to just take over for me and I’m just going to disappear.”

Are you referring to when a white-supremacist site suggested you were on their team? I didn’t even see that, but, like, if that happened, that’s just disgusting. There’s literally nothing worse than white supremacy. It’s repulsive. There should be no place for it. Really, I keep trying to learn as much as I can about politics, and it’s become something I’m now obsessed with, whereas before, I was living in this sort of political ambivalence, because the person I voted for had always won. We were in such an amazing time when Obama was president because foreign nations respected us. We were so excited to have this dignified person in the White House. My first election was voting for him when he made it into office, and then voting to re-elect him. I think a lot of people are like me, where they just didn’t really know that this could happen. But I’m just focused on the 2020 election. I’m really focused on it. I’m really focused on how I can help and not hinder. Because I also don’t want it to backfire again, because I do feel that the celebrity involvement with Hillary’s campaign was used against her in a lot of ways.

You took a lot of heat for not getting involved. Does any part of you regret that you just didn’t say “fuck it” and gotten more specific when you said to vote that November? Totally. Yeah, I regret a lot of things all the time. It’s like a daily ritual.

Were you just convinced that it would backfire? That’s literally what it was. Yeah. It’s a very powerful thing when you legitimately feel like numbers have proven that pretty much everyone hates you. Like, quantifiably. That’s not me being dramatic. And you know that.

There were a lot of people in those stadiums. It’s true. But that was two years later. . . . I do think, as a party, we need to be more of a team. With Republicans, if you’re wearing that red hat, you’re one of them. And if we’re going to do anything to change what’s happening, we need to stick together. We need to stop dissecting why someone’s on our side or if they’re on our side in the right way or if they phrased it correctly. We need to not have the right kind of Democrat and the wrong kind of Democrat. We need to just be like, “You’re a Democrat? Sick. Get in the car. We’re going to the mall.”

Here’s a hard question for you: As a superfan, what did you think of the Game of Thrones finale? Oh, my God. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. So, clinically our brain responds to our favorite show ending the same way we feel when a breakup occurs. I read that. There’s no good way for it to end. No matter what would have happened in that finale, people still would have been really upset because of the fact that it’s over.

I was glad to see you confirm that your line about a “list of names” was a reference to Arya. I like to be influenced by movies and shows and books and stuff. I love to write about a character dynamic. And not all of my life is going to be as kind of complex as these intricate webs of characters on TV shows and movies.

There was a time when it was. That’s amazing.

But is the idea that as your own life becomes less dramatic, you’ll need to pull ideas from other places? I don’t feel like that yet. I think I might feel like that possibly when I have a family. If I have a family. [Pauses] I don’t know why I said that! But that’s what I’ve heard from other artists, that they were very protective of their personal life, so they had to draw inspiration from other things. But again, I don’t know why I said that. Because I don’t know how my life is going to go or what I’m going to do. But right now, I feel like it’s easier for me to write than it ever was.

You don’t talk about your relationship, but you’ll sing about it in wildly revealing detail. What’s the difference for you? Singing about something helps you to express it in a way that feels more accurate. You cannot, no matter what, put words in a quote and have it move someone the same way as if you heard those words with the perfect sonic representation of that feeling... There is that weird conflict in being a confessional songwriter and then also having my life, you know, 10 years ago, be catapulted into this strange pop-culture thing.

I’ve heard you say that people got too interested in which song was about who, which I can understand — at the same time, to be fair, it was a game you played into, wasn’t it? I realized very early on that no matter what, that was going to happen to me regardless. So when you realize the rules of the game you’re playing and how it will affect you, you got to look at the board and make your strategy. But at the same time, writing songs has never been a strategic element of my career. But I’m not scared anymore to say that other things in my career, like how to market an album, are strictly strategic. And I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds — because male artists are allowed to. And so I’m sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business. But, it’s a different part of my brain than I use to write.

You’ve been masterminding your business since you were a teenager. Yeah, but I’ve also tried very hard — and this is one thing I regret — to convince people that I wasn’t the one holding the puppet strings of my marketing existence, or the fact that I sit in a conference room several times a week and come up with these ideas. I felt for a very long time that people don’t want to think of a woman in music who isn’t just a happy, talented accident. We’re all forced to kind of be like, “Aw, shucks, this happened again! We’re still doing well! Aw, that’s so great.” Alex Morgan celebrating scoring a goal at the World Cup and getting shit for it is a perfect example of why we’re not allowed to flaunt or celebrate, or reveal that, like, “Oh, yeah, it was me. I came up with this stuff.” I think it’s really unfair. People love new female artists so much because they’re able to explain that woman’s success. There’s an easy trajectory. Look at the Game of Thrones finale. I specifically really related to Daenerys’ storyline because for me it portrayed that it is a lot easier for a woman to attain power than to maintain it.

I mean, she did murder... It’s a total metaphor! Like, obviously I didn’t want Daenerys to become that kind of character, but in taking away what I chose to take away from it, I thought maybe they’re trying to portray her climbing the ladder to the top was a lot easier than maintaining it, because for me, the times when I felt like I was going insane was when I was trying to maintain my career in the same way that I ascended. It’s easier to get power than to keep it. It’s easier to get acclaim than to keep it. It’s easier to get attention than to keep it.

Well, I guess we should be glad you didn’t have a dragon in 2016... [Fiercely] I told you I don’t like that she did that! But, I mean, watching the show, though, maybe this is a reflection on how we treat women in power, how we are totally going to conspire against them and tear at them until they feel this — this insane shift, where you wonder, like, “What changed?” And I’ve had that happen, like, 60 times in my career where I’m like, “OK, you liked me last year, what changed? I guess I’ll change so I can keep entertaining you guys.”

You once said that your mom could never punish you when you were little because you’d punish yourself. This idea of changing in the face of criticism and needing approval — that’s all part of wanting to be good, right? Whatever that means. But that seems to be a real driving force in your life. Yeah, that’s definitely very perceptive of you. And the question posed to me is, if you kept trying to do good things, but everyone saw those things in a cynical way and assumed them to be done with bad motivation and bad intent, would you still do good things, even though nothing that you did was looked at as good? And the answer is, yes. Criticism that’s constructive is helpful to my character growth. Baseless criticism is stuff I’ve got to toss out now.

That sounds healthy. Is this therapy talking or is this just experience? No, I’ve never been to therapy. I talk to my mom a lot, because my mom is the one who’s seen everything. God, it takes so long to download somebody on the last 29 years of my life, and my mom has seen it all. She knows exactly where I’m coming from. And we talk endlessly. There were times when I used to have really, really, really bad days where we would just be on the phone for hours and hours and hours. I’d write something that I wanted to say, and instead of posting it, I’d just read it to her.

I somehow connect all this to the lyric in “Daylight,” the idea of “so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven” — it’s a different kind of confession. I am really glad you liked that line, because that’s something that does bother me, looking back at life and realizing that no matter what, you screw things up. Sometimes there are people that were in your life and they’re not anymore — and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t fix it, you can’t change it. I told the fans last night that sometimes on my bad days, I feel like my life is a pile of crap accumulated of only the bad headlines or the bad things that have happened, or the mistakes I’ve made or clichés or rumors or things that people think about me or have thought for the last 15 years. And that was part of the “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, where I had a pile of literal old selves fighting each other.

But, yeah, that line is indicative of my anxiety about how in life you can’t get everything right. A lot of times you make the wrong call, make the wrong decision. Say the wrong thing. Hurt people, even if you didn’t mean to. You don’t really know how to fix all of that. When it’s, like, 29 years’ worth.

To be Mr. “Rolling Stone” for a second, there’s a Springsteen lyric, “Ain’t no one leaving this world, buddy/Without their shirttail dirty or hands a little bloody.” That’s really good! No one gets through it unscathed. No one gets through in one piece. I think that’s a hard thing for a lot of people to grasp. I know it was hard for me, because I kind of grew up thinking, “If I’m nice, and if I try to do the right thing, you know, maybe I can just, like, ace this whole thing.” And it turns out I can’t.

It’s interesting to look at “I Did Something Bad” in this context. You pointing that out is really interesting because it’s something I’ve had to reconcile within myself in the last couple of years — that sort of “good” complex. Because from the time I was a kid I’d try to be kind, be a good person. Try really hard. But you get walked all over sometimes. And how do you respond to being walked all over? You can’t just sit there and eat your salad and let it happen. “I Did Something Bad” was about doing something that was so against what I would usually do. Katy [Perry] and I were talking about our signs. . . . [Laughs] Of course we were.

That’s the greatest sentence ever. [Laughs] I hate you. We were talking about our signs because we had this really, really long talk when we were reconnecting and stuff. And I remember in the long talk, she was like, “If we had one glass of white wine right now, we’d both be crying.” Because we were drinking tea. We’ve had some really good conversations.

We were talking about how we’ve had miscommunications with people in the past, not even specifically with each other. She’s like, “I’m a Scorpio. Scorpios just strike when they feel threatened.” And I was like, “Well, I’m an archer. We literally stand back, assess the situation, process how we feel about it, raise a bow, pull it back, and fire.” So it’s completely different ways of processing pain, confusion, misconception. And oftentimes I’ve had this delay in feeling something that hurts me and then saying that it hurts me. Do you know what I mean? And so I can understand how people in my life would have been like, “Whoa, I didn’t know that was how you felt.” Because it takes me a second.

If you watch the video of the 2009 VMAs, I literally freeze. I literally stand there. And that is how I handle any discomfort, any pain. I stand there, I freeze. And then five minutes later, I know how I feel. But in the moment, I’m probably overreacting and I should be nice. Then I process it, and in five minutes, if it’s gone, it’s past, and I’m like, “I was overreacting, everything’s fine. I can get through this. I’m glad I didn’t say anything harsh in the moment.” But when it’s actually something bad that happened, and I feel really, really hurt or upset about it, I only know after the fact. Because I’ve tried so hard to squash it: “This probably isn’t what you think.” That’s something I had to work on.

You could end up gaslighting yourself. Yeah, for sure. ’Cause so many situations where if I would have said the first thing that came to my mind, people would have been like, “Whoa!” And maybe I would have been wrong or combative. So a couple of years ago I started working on actually just responding to my emotions in a quicker fashion. And it’s really helped with stuff. It’s helped so much because sometimes you get in arguments. But conflict in the moment is so much better than combat after the fact.

Well, thanks. I do feel like I just did a therapy session. As someone who’s never been to therapy, I can safely say that was the best therapy session.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 12 does stuff

Still not to the Underground because Frisk is that lady at the office who gets everything done for everyone and then if she ever gets sick of takes a vacation everyone is like “OMFG WHERE IS SHE” amirite @lostmypotatoes

Chapter can be found here.

She had never been so tall before! She could see the top of everyone’s heads! “Look at me!” she crowed as the others came in the door.

“Hello, dear,” King Asgore said sheepishly as Toriel froze on the threshold, arms full of groceries. “Er…do you need any help?”

Frisk was standing on the King’s shoulders, clinging to his horns. “Asgoooooore,” his wife intoned, starting low and sliding up to a very warning note.

“Yes, dearest?” He beamed at her. “Do you like my new hat?”

Asriel laughed, taking the sacks from his mother’s arms to set them on the table. “I remember doing that when we were little,” he remarked.

“And I remember how your father turned his head too fast and nearly took your eye out,” retorted the Queen.

Frisk gripped the horns a little tighter, hoping Toriel wasn’t going to make her get down. “Oh, it’s fine, pumpkin,” Asgore said. Nevertheless, he tapped the human’s shoe. “Perhaps you could sit down, child. It may be—”

The moment Frisk moved her foot, it slipped. Down she went—

—into the King’s arms as he caught her, swung her around in a wide arc, and hitched her up to sit on his shoulder. “Ta-daaa!” he boomed over the child’s shrieking laughter. “You see, Tori? No problem whatsoever!”

Toriel’s face was such a picture that Asriel gave a quiet “Pfffft” and had to hurry out of the room under her glare. “Of course not,” she said tartly. “You do realize we have to give him back in one piece, don’t you, sweetie pie?” Ignoring their complaints, the Queen reached up to set Frisk on the floor. “Now, Gorey, you put these things away, and I will put Kris to bed. Say good night, my child.”

“G’night, Your Majesty,” the human said forlornly.

“Good night, little one.” Asgore’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “Sleep well.”

Frisk trotted to the bedroom ahead of Toriel, bouncing a little. Even if it was bedtime, this was the best thing that had ever happened: not only did she get to spend the night here, the other humans wanted the monsters to keep thinking she was a boy, so they’d asked Toriel not to give her a bath. It was just pie, playtime, and a bed all to herself! Why couldn’t Asgore and Toriel be her real parents? Why couldn’t—

The bedroom door opened, and the dream suddenly changed. This was the right room, but it was cold and smelled dusty, as if it’d been abandoned for a long time. Asgore was standing in the middle of it, huge and silent, shoulders bowed; the King seemed older, angrier, his features drawn tight with grief. He looked up at her as if she was a stranger. His eyes shifted downward, and narrowed.

The priestess raised her hands as he gripped his trident. “Your Majesty, wait,” she tried to say, but he was slashing at her and—

 ~

 Frisk woke up in her own bedroom. Muzzy with sleep, she had no idea why her blanket was so huge, or heavy, or why it smelled like leather. No matter: it felt so safe that the fear ebbed away as she lay buried in its folds, and so comfortable that she turned over and nearly went back to sleep.

The door was ajar. Smells crept in, and voices, but mostly smells. Her stomach growled, and Frisk reluctantly had to struggle her way out of the—coat? It was Sans’ new overcoat, wrapped around her several times, more like a tarp than a blanket. Her head was almost a foot away from the nearest opening, and she didn’t even know where the foot of it was. She slithered up through the neck, played with the fur around the collar for a moment, then adjusted her robe and climbed out of bed.

The voices turned out to be Sans, who was drying his face with a napkin, and Dr. Gaster, who was seated at the table in his own form, almost as eerie by daylight as he had been in her barrier’s glow. “Good morning, Your Eminence,” he said serenely.

“Good morning, Doctor,” she responded in kind. “If you’ll excuse me a moment…”

“Of course.” The monster sipped his coffee as she went to her dressing room and mostly shut the door.

Sans was tapping his phalanges on the tabletop. “So, it looks like we’re—” He broke off, looking from the undisguised skeleton to the dressing room. “Wait. What the crap?”

“The lady and I became more intimately acquainted in your absence,” said Gaster.

“Doctor,” Frisk called warningly.

Gaster chuckled. “Forgive me, my lady. I couldn’t resist. What I mean,” he said to Sans, who was fully bristling, “is that she caught me trying to steal her box the first night you were away. She trapped me until I explained myself, and I learned that when an angry High Priestess puts you inside a barrier, none of your magic is effective, especially not a human disguise.”

“You did what?!” Sans’ fist came within millimeters of the tabletop, but the dressing-room door opened, and he stopped exactly in time. He gave the table a little pat instead, dropping his hand into his lap as Frisk came to sit next to him. “Ya broke in here while I was gone?” he demanded.

“He did indeed.” Frisk glared at the doctor for a moment, then turned her attention to breakfast. “What has Sans told you, Dr. Gaster?”

“I explained our deal to him, and he has related a remarkable story about your trip to the Underground as a child.” Gaster drained his coffee and set it on a tray. “Please forgive me, but I must know: do you recall anything about the day of the accident?”

Sans sat up straighter. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him to ask her that yet; she didn’t blame him, after all the emotional turmoil of the previous night, and she couldn’t blame him for waiting so intently for her answer.

But she was finding it a little difficult to focus. It was finally sinking in that she had told Sans everything, that he knew she was Kris and had agreed to take her to the Underground. She’d really get to see everyone again, and she could talk to Asgore as an old friend; maybe the jolly King she’d known as a little girl was still in there somewhere, ready to be brought back…

Frisk finished chewing and swallowed as both skeletons waited for her response. She had to remind herself that Gaster had only agreed to help her mislead everyone – including Sans – in exchange for information, and that it was a very valid question. “I don’t know what happened, no,” she said slowly, to their disappointment. “I remember getting permission to go to Chara’s performance with Sans and Papyrus, and I know I was supposed to do something, but that was it. The next thing I knew, I was in a stagecoach, and Rosa was telling me I’d be going to school.”

Sans’ brows rose a little, and Gaster said, “A pity, but understandable. Many people who survived the event have little to no memory of it, given the amount and violence of the magic involved. Sans tells me you were brought along in the first place as a sort of test?”

Frisk made a face. “I was told that monsters were unpredictable and we needed to know how they’d behave under different circumstances, including whether they’d treat a child as well as a human would. They made me pretend to be a boy ‘for safety.’”

“Yeah, like humans treated you that fuckin’ well,” Sans muttered, ignoring Gaster’s not-very-hard smack on the head.

The High Priestess took as dignified a bite of sausage as she could. “I always had a feeling that my missing memories were linked to the Underground,” she said around it, “and now I know it for a fact. I have a more solid connection with monsters than any other human alive. If I were to go with Sans to reestablish diplomatic relations, Asgore might just hear me out. When I was there as Kris…” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “He and Asriel played with me for hours.” Thinking of Asriel hurt too much. Frisk said, just to be saying something else, “I know he’s changed, and so have I, but...”

“Nah, ya haven’t,” Sans mumbled, making her go bright red.

Gaster glanced back and forth between them, but merely said, “Persuading King Stephin to allow it may be difficult. The last time he and King Asgore spoke, it was not on the most amiable terms.”

“So I hear.” Frisk pressed her lips together. “We need to convince him, and everyone else, that it’s necessary. Based on Sans’ knowledge of solar arrays and your own work, Doctor, how soon could you make a prototype to demonstrate to the public?”

“It depends how large and how strong a model you’d require,” admitted the doctor. “Is speed more important, or impressiveness?”

“I’d like something before we leave, please, even if it’s only large enough to power a witchlight. Now that Sans has been here for two weeks without incident, people are starting to get curious, and let’s be honest: if we can get people used to you, Sans, they can get used to any monster.” Frisk poured herself more milk. “We need to pair that with the idea that we don’t have to steal magic anymore, and it will help immensely if everyone is talking about solar power while we’re gone.”

The boss monster shrugged agreement. The priestess toyed with a fork, steeling herself. “Another thing. This sounds exploitative, but I’ve had copies made of the reports on each monster confiscated the other night. I sent them to as many different administrative offices as I could think of. Each report had my confidential seal on it, so I’m sure people have read them. I want to see if anyone is talking about it.”

The men were quiet. Sans was clearly displeased, but he was listening. “Believe me, I hate to use their suffering as a political prop. I really do,” she said, half stern and half apologetic. “But as things stand, monsters being enslaved is a fact of life to the average human. We can’t let it be an abstract concept anymore. Most people don’t know the kind of conditions monsters are kept in, and the time is right to make them care about it.”

Gaster inclined his head, and they both looked at Sans. He took such a long, deep breath that Frisk wondered how there was any air left in the room afterward. “Ya really think so?” He glanced at the royal sorcerer. “You know humans pretty well. There’s no other way ta do this?”

“Nothing as effective, long-lasting, or nonviolent, no.” Gaster leaned his head on his hand, and the extras with the pen and notepad materialized, scribbling away. Frisk wished he wouldn’t do that. “Humans do not like change, or being inconvenienced, and they cannot stand to be told they are wrong,” explained the doctor, “especially when presented with clear evidence that they have been wrong for a very long time. Letting them pretend that this is a new issue they can feel strongly about without having to do much of anything themselves…I’m afraid it is the ideal path to social change.”

“Wow. Humans suck,” Sans observed. He glanced at Frisk, who couldn’t hide her apprehension. “Don’t gimme that look, kiddo. If you ‘n the doc say it’s the best way to get monsters free, I’m not gonna fight ya.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, and his answering grumble was much quieter than usual.

“The second fortune,” Gaster mused, and they both looked askance at him. He gave her a rare smile. “You’ve chosen to set monsters free. You will have to work very hard, my dear lady, but your life will be quite interesting. May I ask how you are feeling?”

Frisk thought of Asriel again, of being taken from the Underground. She rubbed her forehead as Sans glared at the other skeleton. “It hurts very much, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to lie. But…” She gave him a watery smile. “Once I get through this, I’ll have the other things, too, the joy and love.” Something occurred to her, and she smiled wider this time. “And my ‘innumerable’ family. I hope the monsters will fit that description.”

“Damn straight,” commented Sans, which made her flush again.

Gaster nodded, and she was almost certain that he waited for her to take a sip of milk before he asked, “Have you selected a father for your child?”

The priestess choked mid-swallow and had to push away from the table to double over, coughing, while Sans checked her for immediate danger and then snarled at Gaster, “What the hell kinda thing is that ta ask a lady, y’old perv?!”

“What indeed.” The royal sorcerer folded all of his hands, looking back and forth between the red-faced sorceress and the redder-faced skeleton. “Forgive my impertinence. I’m sure it will happen quite naturally. For now, Your Eminence, you need only concern yourself with your apprenticeship, and with furthering the cause of monster freedom.”

Frisk climbed to her feet, waving away Sans’ offer of assistance. “One moment,” she croaked. She would have loved to know what exactly he was saying to Gaster as the bathroom door closed behind her, but it was all she could do to breathe normally. What did the doctor think he was doing, besides embarrassing her and Sans most of the way to death?

 ~

 “Whaddya think yer doin’?!” Sans leaned forward, but had to sit back as Gaster’s extra hands reappeared, wagging their fingers in sync. “What happened to not interferin’? It’s none’a yer damn business what she does!”

“I am acting purely to further Her Eminence’s goal of peace between the human and monster races,” Gaster lied with his stupid lying face. At least, that was what it looked like to Sans. “However strict a schedule she may be on to fulfill her maternal destiny, it would not behoove her to be encumbered too soon. You have thirteen days left of your tenure here, during which she will want to accomplish as much as possible, and after which you will hopefully be able to escort her to the Underground for a successful diplomatic mission.”

“I know that.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. The workroom floor hadn’t been that comfortable, but it hadn’t exactly been a comfortable night, so whatever. “That doesn’t give you any right to bug her about somethin’ so personal,” he snapped.

Gaster sighed, laced his all fingers together, and pushed them outward to crack every joint at once, making the boss monster twitch. “Enough beating around the bush, Sans. Frisk is not the sort of woman who forms intimate attachments quickly or easily, and out of the very many men who would be glad to have her, she has not found one who suits her. Even without the timeline imposed by her fortune, based on what I have seen and heard, you are by far the likeliest—”

Wham.

Sans did not dent the table this time. He nearly broke it in half.

Gaster blinked at the crater in the wood surface as its dust settled. “I thought you would be at least somewhat ambivalent by this point,” the doctor remarked, and raised his voice as the bathroom door creaked: “Please give us another moment, my lady.”

The door closed. Sans flexed his hand, ignoring the splinters and bits of shattered china lodged in his metacarpals. “I was up all night thinkin’ about it,” he growled. “Doesn’t really matter how I feel, does it? Facts are facts. ’m three or four times bigger’n her, I’m a boss monster, an’ even if I never touched her, I’d ruin ‘er whole life. What would the other humans say? Ya think they’d ever listen to her again if they thought she was screwin’ around with a magic skeleton?” Snort. “Even if we could do it, ’m still basically poison. Ya know exactly what I mean.” He peeled a long curl of wood from the table’s surface. “This is all assumin’ she’d be okay with me in the first place. I mean…look at me.”

Gaster peered at Sans’ SOUL, and his expression said it all. “The darkness intertwined with your magic could potentially be damaging,” he conceded. “As we discussed, you need to decide whether it’s worth holding on to the anger dragging you down, for your sake and hers.”

“Who says I’m holdin’ on to anythin’? ‘s more like bein’ stuck in a tar pit. She’s helped me get my head out, ‘n that’s about it.” Sans jerked his thumb at the table. “Be honest. Would you wanna have a kid with someone who does stuff like this?”

The older skeleton was silent. Sans waited, half hoping he would say something witty or insightful that would solve everything, but Gaster just shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Time fer you to go,” said the boss monster.

The royal sorcerer grimaced. “Sans, please. Are you even going to try?”

The table itself started shaking, a film of red creeping over the books and dishes. Dr. Gaster stood and tugged on the chain to become human, then strode out of the room and slammed the doors behind him without another word.

Sans glared at the table. It was pretty damn broken, all right. Good job, asshole, he congratulated himself. How was Frisk going to get anything done now?

…Welp. He’d repaired the table before, hadn’t he? Why not try it again? Might as well prove to himself that he could do better for her sake, or prove to the doctor that he couldn’t—either way, he had to give it a shot.

The boss monster took a deep breath, imagined the broken wood and china all coming back together as they’d been, and flicked his left hand. His magic slowly lifted the table, pushing from beneath till its overall surface was mostly sort of level again, then straightened out the legs and settled it back to the floor.

So far, so good. Next, he smoothed the jagged, splintered ends jutting out of the crater into a nearly unbroken surface, separating the smaller pieces of wood from the broken china. With a supreme effort, he directed the wood to fill in the remaining gaps, and imagined the china re-forming into plates and cups.

To his elation, there was a flurry of movement, leaving the wooden surface scarred but whole and the dishes looking like dishes again…which, as he released the spell, tumbled apart into broken heaps, the wood poofing back out where it’d started.

He scowled and gestured again, but the same thing happened again, and again: the stuff mashed together well enough, but wouldn’t stay that way. God damn it, why wasn’t it working? Was he trying to do too much at once? No, that wasn’t the problem; he had more than enough power, and he was focusing properly. He was using the exact same magic as before, and he sure as hell intended it to work, so…did he need to get madder at himself for ruining her workspace? Or…

Sans thought it over, then got off his stool and went to rap on the bathroom door. “C’mon out, kitten,” he said. “I need a favor.”

Frisk emerged as he backed up and sat down facing the broken table. She looked at the wreckage, then at him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I will be in a sec. C’mere.” He extended an arm.

She was a little doubtful, but came to him readily and let him tuck her against his ribcage. “Um,” she said into his wrinkled shirt.

He stroked her hair with one phalange, focusing on her warmth, and her smell – which now included a hint of leather from his coat – and how big a pain in the ass it’d be if she had to replace the table. She was busy enough, she didn’t need this crap! Besides, what would his past self say if he knew he’d screwed things up for Kris?

Frisk turned to see what he was doing, absently twining her fingers around one of

his, and Sans suddenly knew exactly what to do. There was a boom and a crackling like wood being broken, but in reverse: her mouth hung open as the cloud of red magic dispersed, leaving the table in nearly the same shape as before, perhaps a little bent in the middle. The breakfast dishes were intact, though they looked as if someone had glued them back together in a hurry. “Ha! There we go,” Sans said triumphantly. “Good as…used. Not bad, eh?”

The priestess leaned back against his clavicle. “I suppose it’s the next best thing to not breaking it in the first place,” she murmured.

Ouch. And speaking of which… He grimaced. “Hey. Frisk?”

“Hm?” She was still holding the lowest phalange of his right forefinger, examining the relatively-smaller bones of his hand.

As always, Sans scanned her face for signs of distaste or nervousness. He never could find any, or understand why not. “Uh. I’m…’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Ya shouldn’a had to show me all that.” The boss monster played with one of her wavier locks of hair. He liked it better when she didn’t put any stuff on to straighten it. “’m sorry you spent all that time scared ta talk about it.” He exhaled, ruffling her hair. “’m sorry you were right t’be scared.”

Frisk let go of his hand. She didn’t say anything, just laid her head on his clavicle, face turned from his.

Sans sighed, and dropped his arm. “Yeah. So,” he mumbled.

She shrugged, so slight a motion that he could barely feel it. He was about to reach for her again when she stepped away. “It’s all right.” Frisk went to the repaired table and stacked up the partly-broken dishes. ��I don’t know if I would believe me, either,” she said over her shoulder.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. The silence felt…complicated. “So,” he said. “What’re we doin’ today? Ya want people ta not be scared of me. Should we go rescue kittens outta trees, maybe bring some orphans candy or somethin’?”

Frisk paused, as if shaking herself, and suddenly smiled, in a way that made him nervous. “Now that you mention it—”

It was thus his own fault that, within ten minutes, Sans found himself accompanying her back into the castle town. On their recent excursions, Sans had been using his disguise, and Frisk dressed as plainly as possible, keeping her hood up; this time, not only was she in her High Priestess gown – though she’d omitted the headdress in favor of her red-lined cloak – Sans stayed beside her as his own giant self. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was that she insisted on walking the whole way in order to be visible and gauge people’s reactions. Oh, well. At least they matched again.

Their destination today was the group home where Frisk had stayed as a very small girl. It was a long walk to the poorer part of town, but the visit itself was brief enough; they were admitted in the middle of the children’s morning break, so they had a head start to the long dining-room table before someone spotted the bakery boxes they’d picked up on their way over. Sans ended up having to lift Frisk the rest of the way before she was lost under a surging tide of greedy little hands.

Of course, the magic demonstration turned out to be the ideal icebreaker. To his disgruntlement, Sans was conscripted to make toys fly around – though he drew the line at the actual children begging to be flung across the room – while Frisk distributed the pastries they’d brought and the boss monster contemplated his life choices. He’d enjoyed playing with Kris back in the day, but he never signed up to perform for a bunch of literally snot-nosed brats!

But he had to admit that it was working: after a few minutes, only the most timid children were still hanging back, and by the time the priestess was done telling them about the different kinds of monsters she knew, almost all of the kids had crept up for a closer look. He contented himself with the fact that Frisk seemed pretty happy, though he wasn’t a big fan of how many kids were coughing on her.

In fact, some of them got a little too comfortable with him, and Frisk had to cut the visit short when they started crawling into his huge slippers and lifting his shirt to poke between his ribs. The priestess and boss monster waded out amid cries of disappointment, closing the door with some difficulty.

“Damn, that was intense,” said Sans on their walk back to the castle. “So, ya lived there till you were…?”

“Eight. Then Rosa found a job for me in the castle kitchens scrubbing pots. I’ve had better experiences.”

He thought again of Kris’ scars and protruding ribs. “Permission to go up there ‘n bust some heads?”

“Denied,” she said. “I started collecting affidavits about the old cook the moment I came back here as High Priestess, and she’s been in jail for over two years now. She won’t get out for a good while.”

Sans still would’ve liked to find the bitch and see how she liked someone bigger hurting her, but it probably wasn’t something Frisk would want to hear. Instead, he asked, “D’you always call yer mom by ‘er first name?”

Frisk returned a passerby’s smile and nod, and said, “I often have because I wasn’t very attached to her, and it turns out I was right. Rosa isn’t my mother.”

The boss monster nearly stopped in the middle of the busy street. “Say what?”

“I found out around the time I went to the Underground, so I forgot it along with everything else. It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was put in Rosa’s care when I was a baby, and she pawned me off wherever she could until my father stepped in.” Frisk smoothed her hair behind her ears as the wind whistled around them. “Rosa did check in on me periodically to be sure I was alive, which is more than I could say for anyone else before I met you all.”

Sans had to jam his hands in his pockets to keep from hugging her right there. “So…”

“My real mother is dead. I’ll tell you more later.” To his surprise, Frisk fell in step beside him and reached up, and he obligingly leaned down for her to take his elbow. He thought of Kris again as she smiled up at him. “Let’s go back now. We have a lot of work to do.”

 ~

 Sans did not forget about that conversation, but he never quite managed to bring it up again: they were so busy preparing for the trip Underground that, before he knew it, only ten days remained of his visit.

For one thing, three of the mixtures he had formulated were not working much better than the control she’d set up, but one was doing well, and another was so promising that Frisk ordered more of its components and some additional seedlings. He had finalized his list of food items to bring back with them and eventually persuaded the priestess to stop buying more gifts, after the final two novels in a series Alphys had been reading and a set of children’s puzzles for Papyrus.

They didn’t really discuss what had happened the other night, but they were comfortable around each other again. At her request, they had resumed their “slumber parties,” trading jokes later into the night than they probably should have and falling asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed. Sans found he could now keep himself in check by thinking of Kris: though most of his feelings were as strong as ever, or stronger, it felt a little creepy to lust after her, which was…better, he guessed.

It also helped, in a weird way, that she tended to be upset after whatever dreams she’d been having of the Underground. Two of the past three mornings, he’d woken up with her curled up in her blanket against his side, and his SOUL had damn near melted.

Her sudden proximity could have been a problem, but on close self-examination, Sans found he’d rather punch himself in the spectral junk than take advantage of her emotional vulnerability. That was a huge relief; it meant he could turn and drape his arm over her or pet her hair in fairly good conscience. A little part of him knew that this probably wouldn’t last forever, and he’d be back in trouble once Frisk finished working through everything, but, eh. That was a later problem. Right now, things were almost perfect, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

…Was it his imagination being mushy, or did his SOUL feel a little lighter? He never could remember to have Gaster check for him when the doctor was there.

That morning, on his tenth-to-last day in the castle, Sans didn’t wear his device when he accompanied her to matins. He’d stopped using it entirely on their trips into town or walks around the castle. Frisk used the cold as an excuse to wear her cloak outside instead of the circlet or veil; as she’d predicted, people were now curious enough to stop to speak with her and gawk at the ten-foot skeleton. Though they got their fair share of fearful whispers and angry looks, no one had the courage to say anything with Sans right there, which was good enough for Frisk.

The boss monster understood what she was doing, and tried to behave himself on these social forays, but he hated every second of it. Frisk had a knack for keeping an eye on him and walking away when he started getting agitated by too many stares or stupid questions, but he hated that she had to worry about him hating it. More than ever, he wished she’d found a smaller, cuter monster to show off.

It was also strange that, in spite of her increased accessibility, there had been no signs of anyone else plotting anything, much less attacking her. Frisk checked in regularly with the palace guards, who still hadn’t found whoever generated that huge burst of magic at the All Souls service; anyone clever enough to have planned the operation had obviously been capable of covering their tracks, a prospect that didn’t sit well with either of them.

There was, however, a single incident that nearly made it all worthwhile: one day, an elderly woman came up to tug on Sans’ trousers as they stood outside a bookstore. When he glanced down, the lady demanded up at him, “What time is it?”

Sans looked at Frisk, and at the equally nonplussed bystanders. Luckily, far over the humans’ heads, he could see a clock in the distance. “Uh…couple minutes after noon.”

The old lady frowned and nodded, as though a great truth had been revealed unto her. “I see. Yes, thank you.” She hobbled back the way she’d came, and they heard her say to no one in particular, “What a nice skeleton.”

For some reason, the way she said it was so funny that he instinctively caught Frisk’s eye and found she was trying to suppress a grin. When she motioned for him to follow her, they made it as far as a little side street before she started giggling, flapping her hand for him to take them back. It was time for lunch, but more importantly, it was time to sit down in the stairwell outside her rooms and howl with laughter for no reason that either could have explained to anyone else, except perhaps that each of them had been tense and ready to laugh at almost anything, and was glad that the other was laughing too.

As usual, every time he started to recover, she snrrked and got him going again. When the priestess had almost caught her breath, Sans retaliated with “What a nice skeleton” in his best old-lady voice and nearly killed her.

Unfortunately, it was the only bright spot in several days of not much fun. At least they were productive, especially her tactic of “accidentally” leaking the confiscation reports; on their afternoon walks, several of the people stopping them to chat specifically wanted to know if the terrible things they had heard were true, and what would happen to the monsters in question.

Frisk hid her elation that people did care enough to ask her about it, and developed a rote response that it was true, and terrible, and she would push for harsher punishments of mistreated monsters. That was when she also mentioned that the illustrious Dr. Serif was working on an alternative source of magic, and when it was perfected, monsters could be freed entirely.

That statement always got a reaction, and she was almost relieved when one person finally came right out and said, “How on earth are we supposed to get that much magic without them?” It gave her the chance to explain how the Underground used the sun’s light to generate power, and when the man smirked at such a ridiculous lie, the High Priestess had to step on Sans’ foot to keep him in check; Frisk was irritated enough herself to tell the man and the rest of their impromptu audience that Dr. Serif had been working with her emissary to prepare a public demonstration next week.

“That sounds neat. You should probably tell the doc about it,” Sans grumbled as the little crowd dispersed to spread the news.

Frisk did indeed have some explaining to do. The upper classes of the court and Church were not supposed to care about idle gossip, but by the afternoon of the following day, after their studies were done, she found she was not only obligated to lend Sans to Dr. Serif and the other sorcerers to go over their plans, but “invited” to chat with the King before dinner.

By that point, Frisk was not in the mood to dress things up. “I’m going to free the monsters we took from their owners,” she told King Stephin behind a soundproof barrier. “I will hire guards if I have to, and send Sans along regardless, but as soon as they’ve recovered enough to travel, they are going back to the Underground to stay. His Holiness can double the deposits, or jail me, for all I care. Those monsters have suffered enough.”

“My dear, that is not going to work,” the King said, just as bluntly. “Every owner in this kingdom will fear that you are plotting to take their property from them, and like it or not, monsters are still classified as such.”

“I am ‘plotting’ exactly that, Your Majesty. I’ll do it safely, peacefully, and legally, but I will do it.” When the old man looked ready to argue, she added, “I’ve learned a great deal recently about a boy named Kris who became attached to several monsters on the last visit to the Underground. A very great deal, and it’s had quite an impact on me. Do you understand, Majesty?”

The King of the human realm regarded her for almost ten full seconds. Frisk would sooner have carved her eyes out than look away first, and he eventually sighed a long, long sigh. “You wish to return, then?”

“I am going to the Underground with Sans in nine days, Your Majesty,” she informed him, “and I would much rather have your permission than not. If all goes well, I intend to stay for five to ten days before I return here.”

He gave her a sharp appraisal that she didn’t understand till he said, “Will that be enough time to prepare your apprentice to serve the Underground single-handed?”

Frisk had long since made up her mind how to “prepare” her apprentice, but she had no intention to discuss it with the King yet. “I believe so,” she replied.

He closed his eyes. “Have you heard recently from Lord Owen and his lady sister?” he asked, much too casually.

“Yes, sire,” she said calmly. “They will both be here for a visit in roughly three weeks.”

“Wonderful.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I am glad you’ve made up your mind regarding these matters. May I ask—”

The High Priestess had been resisting the urge to cough for over an hour, and so it wasn’t really dishonest to interrupt him that way. The problem was that once she started, she couldn’t stop, and had to accept his injunction to go back to her rooms.

“I knew it” was the first thing out of Sans’ mouth when he got back. She was in bed, in her nightgown and robe, huddled under the covers with the fireplace lit. “Told ya those little pukes were gonna get ya sick.”

Frisk gave him the stink-eye, coughing for emphasis. His expression softened at the sound. “Okay, okay. Can I getcha anythin’?”

“Sleep,” she croaked.

Sans couldn’t do that, but he could and did tell the guards that Her Eminence needed to be left alone because she’d caught some kind of crud. When he went back into the bedroom, she was already dozing. Good—maybe she’d be having better dreams soon.

 ~

 One week left.

Frisk had slept through the previous day – guarded from interruption by her massive apprentice – and part of this one, waking up to eat dinner in bed. Afterward, she was busy catching up on mail, including a reply from the Owens’ land broker.

As High Priestess, her wealth was such that the broker was happy to offer her only ten percent down, with interest much higher than Frisk intended to pay. The priestess had to write three replies for that one: an answer referring the broker to the real estate agent who would negotiate the rest of the transaction on her behalf, a letter informing her agent that he was about to get a very large commission, and a note to Lord Owen updating him on the whole business and greeting his family. She might be planning to reject him in the most overt way possible and embarrass him in front of the entire kingdom, but that was no reason to be impolite, was it?

Sans was stretched out on the other side of the bed, eyes closed. It was easier to let him stay there than trying to make him work and having him stick his head in the door every ten minutes to fret about whether she was still alive. “Tell me again why ya won’t get a secretary,” he said as she massaged her hand.

“I told you, I don’t trust anyone with all this.” Frisk patted the mattress between them, which was his cue to wriggle a finger and waft her cup of tea over from the side table. She took a sip, murmured her thanks, and let him put it back without opening his eyes. “I wish I could do that,” she remarked, putting the three envelopes aside. “There we are. I’m feeling much better, Sans. Will you please let me get up now?”

Several minutes of negotiation later, with the massive skeleton hovering as though she was seventy years old, Frisk was out in the workroom to check the seedlings’ progress. “This is amazing,” she said, looking over the three tiny plants growing from his latest mixture. “If you keep this up, we could think about converting some of your existing cropland to pasture and eventually getting some sheep. You could probably also use some chickens, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, we ate all ours a few years back. Tori would love to have some more,” Sans remarked. “Meat, eggs, and somethin’ ta fuss over.”

Frisk smiled a little. She’d avoided asking too many questions about her old friends, as it was clear the news was largely not good. She glanced around, and Sans proffered her tea, unasked. “You know…” This took some courage, but it was such an obvious thing, and they hadn’t discussed it: “We don’t have to leave in exactly seven more days.” She checked her calendar. “It’ll be four more days till they demonstrate your prototype. I’d like to be there for that, and I haven’t had a chance to talk with His Majesty again, and I’d like to have a letter from him or something official to give to Asgore so he doesn’t have to take my word for—”

Sans chuckled. That rumbling sound had always raised the hairs on the back of her neck, but lately, it did it in a good way. “Stop babblin’, kitten. D’ya want me ta stay longer?”

Her hands trembled as she set the cup down. “If…” The priestess swallowed. “If we leave a couple of days sooner, I could stay in the Underground longer, assuming everyone would be all right with it.”

The skeleton scowled at her. “Why the crap wouldn’t they be? Are ya scared they’ll be like, ‘Yeah, we loved you as a kid, now go to hell?’”

Frisk’s fidgety silence said it all. Sans drew a deep breath, but saw her flinch, and released it slowly. “Okay,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I know ya haven’t had a lotta luck with people, but this’s different. I’m not sayin’ there won’t be any problems with anyone, ‘specially the ones who didn’t know ya that well. Some of us might be dicks about it an’ not believe ya right at first. But…” He also fidgeted, various colors sweeping over his skull. “Ya look different, ‘n that’s it. We all liked ya ‘cause you’re…you. Hasn’t changed.” Fidget. Scowl. “If anyone tells ya to get lost, I’ll—” He caught her expression and said with fake cheer, “—give them a biiiig hug and tell ‘em ta be nice.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Frisk took his hand, or at least a couple of his fingers. “Really, thank you,” she said, softer. “I hope you’re right.”

His fingers closed around hers. The bones were always warmer than she expected, no matter how many times she touched them. “Let’s try this,” he said quietly. “Take off the barrier when we go t’sleep and lemme see if I can reach Papyrus. It might work better to have him spread the word first that Kris is comin’ back with Sans in a few days, as opposed t’just showin’ up as a total surprise.”

The priestess couldn’t help smiling self-consciously. “I’d like to surprise everyone,” she confessed, and he chuckled again. “But I know it might not be the best option. Honestly, it depends how everyone there is feeling about humans after Snowdrake returned safely.”

“Yeah…traumatized an’ thinkin’ someone workin’ for ya was strong enough ta steal my magic,” said the skeleton. He squeezed her hand very gently and let go. “But he might also have spread the word that yer the one who set ‘im loose. We’ve gotta talk to Pap ‘n find out.”

Frisk thought about it, and the prospect of removing the barrier did not appeal to her whatsoever. The demon-child hadn’t showed up again for either of them, even when she’d left the barrier down and Sans had spent two nights outside it; she knew better than to assume it had gone away entirely, so where was it?

…But it did make sense to try to contact Papyrus, and she didn’t have any better ideas. “All right,” she said, and coughed into the bend of her elbow. “I’m going to take it down now and get back to sleep. Will you be in soon?”

“Sure.” Sans gave her a little salute. “Night, kitten. Get better so I don’t hafta listen to er hackin’ anymore.”

That nickname should’ve annoyed her, but Frisk liked it better each time. The inner glow lasted until she was in bed and had to remove the barrier, which she found she did not want to do. Maybe it would be all right; maybe the child was busy wreaking havoc somewhere else tonight and wouldn’t check her room? It…could be all right. There was only one way to find out, she told herself, not believing a word of it.

 ~

 It was the same dream as before, but more intense: her husband crept into bed and tricked her into turning over so that he could roll her onto her back and slip his hands under her nightshirt. When she tried to mumble in self-defense, his mouth was suddenly against her lips; he tangled his fingers through hers, his slight weight pressing her into the mattress as he pulled the nightshirt up over her ribs.

A tiny pause, waiting to see if she’d stop him. She sighed, then relaxed as his head dipped to lick her neck, fingers winding in her hair to pull her chin up and nip at her throat. His other hand trailed down her side to her hip; he made an approving noise as he encountered bare skin.

Her underwear was missing solely because she’d forgotten to put a second load in the dryer that afternoon, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, especially now that his mouth had moved up to her cheek, then back to her lips. Her arms circled his shoulders as he began to kiss her in earnest, their teeth clicking gently, though he always led with his tongue to avoid biting her.

She’d long since stopped thinking about how weird it was to make out with a skeleton, and she never got tired of his bones’ smooth texture against her skin, or of feeling him shudder as she ran her hands over his skull. He pulled his head away, panting, and sat up to move his shorts aside—she’d told him several times to just leave them off in bed, but he was still curiously shy about letting her see him without clothes, especially when he had what they called his “extras” out.

Usually, by this point, he would have attended to her for a few minutes – or more! – to be sure she was ready, but this time, he clearly couldn’t wait. Well, that was fine. She was more than happy to let him hook his forearms under her knees and lean forward; he wasn’t that much shorter than she was, but it was the best way to—

 ~

 Something was wrong, something much worse than sexual frustration or an intruder in her office.

She was still dreaming, but in a too-real way that she instantly recognized. Frisk was back in the castle, standing beside the huge bed, with her own Sans sitting squarely in the middle of the mattress; his head was in his hands, his whole body hunched up and shaking. Frisk tried to ask him what was wrong, but the words died as she spotted the thing standing over him—it was the child, the demon from the other world.

The child didn’t have its knife out, but it didn’t need to. It was smiling in vile satisfaction as Sans’ shoulders shook. Her stomach clenched as she saw red droplets trickling over the bones of his hands and wrists. “What did you do to him?” Frisk snarled. The air surged as she raised a hand, golden sparks flying. “Get out of here before I put a barrier around this whole damned kingdom! You know I could!”

The child stopped smiling and looked at her. For the first time, it spoke: “Ask him what he could do to you.”

Its voice felt like a nail being dragged down her eardrum. Sans must have heard it, too, because he curled in on himself harder, and Frisk’s heart broke into a few more pieces. That little—why wouldn’t it leave him alone?!

Frisk gathered all of her willpower and gave a sharp, high whistle, snapping the barrier back into place and jerking herself and Sans awake. She sat bolt upright and glanced around in the dimness, throat itching and adrenaline pumping, only to see that it was early morning and the child was gone.

The priestess coughed. With a sigh of relief, she climbed over the foot of the bed to tap the witchlight on, then turned to say, “Are you all right, S—”

Dear Lord. Frisk had assumed the blood was part of Sans’ nightmare, but to her horror, he was sitting up again and staring down at his hands, which were absolutely coated in dark, slick red. Fresh crimson drops were still sliding down his face, splashing onto his metacarpals and dripping through the gaps to soak into the mattress. “Sans!” she cried. The priestess gathered up her robe and leapt onto the bed, kneeling beside him. “What in God’s name happened? Where are you hurt?”

To her bewilderment, the enormous skeleton shook his head and waved her off. “Go ‘way,” he moaned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped. “Whatever happened, whatever it told you, it wasn’t real!” The young woman tried to peer into his face, but he turned away. “Sans, look at me!”

He shook his head harder and tried to shuffle away from her, his arm coming up to scrub his sockets with his sleeve and smear more red across his brow. It finally hit her that he wasn’t injured, he was crying—

It was all Frisk could do not to break down, too. Why had she ever agreed to take down the barrier? But much more importantly, why wouldn’t the child leave him alone? Why did Sans have to be so miserable? She could remember standing by his house in Snowdin as a child, holding his hand and smiling up at him, sensing how unhappy he was behind his lackadaisical exterior and how hard he was working to hide it. He hadn’t deserved to feel that way back then, and he didn’t need a demon to help him torment himself now!

Where had that misery even come from? Was it from witnessing the child’s genocide in his own world? From what Gaster had said, that sense of powerlessness and futility was still echoing somewhere in the back of his mind, waiting to resurface in his nightmares. And what about becoming a boss monster, knowing he no longer fit in with the other monsters – literally – and would live forever as a complete anomaly? Or his efforts to keep his brother happy by absorbing the Underground’s distilled misery, working it out the only way he knew how, till he believed that darkness and violence were naturals part of himself—when was it all going to stop?

Sans jumped as the priestess stood up and grabbed the back of his head, tipping him forward till his forehead was resting on her sternum. “Stop,” he muttered into the thick folds of her robe, trying to pull away.

Frisk’s arms shifted. They could barely fit around his skull, but she had a strong enough hold that he’d have to hurt her to get free. Sans shook his head, carrying her back and forth. “Would ya fuckin’ stop already?” he demanded, more desperate than angry.

“Why,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

No answer. Frisk drew breath to hum at him, but he shook his head again so violently that she almost fell over. “Don’t pull that crap on me now! Quit wastin’ yer damn magic and go away!”

What in the world? “All right, and no,” she retorted.

He growled, but for all his vehemence, he hadn’t so much as raised his arms. His next attempt to dislodge her was so half-hearted that Frisk barely moved. She didn’t need to make any sounds beside the steady, thrumming rhythm of her heartbeat; as she held on, his breathing started to slow down, and he was soon resting so heavily against her that she had to brace herself to hold him up. “We’re both fine,” the priestess said over his head. “All right?”

Sans nodded faintly. One arm looped around her, and most of his palm rested on her back. She felt more red soaking into her robe as she let him nuzzle the downy material over her heart, or SOUL, as he’d call it. It was more than a bit embarrassing to have his face right there, but he’d been through so much that this seemed like the very least she could do.

Besides, said a wry, far-off corner of her mind, if I’m going to conceive in the next month or two at the latest, this will be the least of my worries.

Dirt. Now it was impossible not to think of her twice-interrupted dream with a Sans much closer to her size, and impossible to ignore the question of whether her larger, angrier skeleton had enough magic – and creativity – to love a human without hurting her, physically speaking. Being determined to find out didn’t make her any less apprehensive about it.

Then there was the question she was afraid to even look at too closely: if a boss monster was able to give her his magic the way a regular skeleton apparently could, did she have enough magic – and determination – to give him a child and some semblance of a happy or normal life?

“’m fine now,” Sans eventually mumbled. “Leggo.”

Frisk made a disbelieving noise. “’m fine,” the skeleton said stubbornly.

“Mm-hmm.” Frisk let go and reached behind her to take his stained hand. “Come here.”

Sans obediently got up and followed her into the bathroom, wiping his eyes again as he sat down where she pointed. She washed her hands, then moved aside for him to wash his; as always, it took forever because his hands were too big for the sink, forcing him to work in sections. Once he’d gotten the majority of the red off, Frisk grabbed a black washcloth and some soap to help work the last bits out of the gaps in his metacarpals. Strange: they’d spent enough time together to be used to platonic physical contact, but it felt so intimate for him to let her touch him between the bones of his hands that she didn’t know what to do with herself.

When those were done, Frisk rinsed the washcloth out, patted her face to cool it, and had him sit down again. He held still as she started cleaning off the blood – or tears, or whatever it was, exactly – but he wouldn’t look her in the eye. A little more red oozed from the corner of one socket as she worked, and without thinking, Frisk placed her palm high on his cheekbone to wipe it off with her thumb. “What happened?” she asked softly.

Sans looked at the floor, then at her, reaching up. For a second, she thought he was going to push her hand away; instead, he curled his forefinger around her wrist and turned her palm over, looking at it as though he’d never seen a human this close before. “I couldn’t find Pap,” he mumbled. “Had a dream where…” His entire skull turned a spectrum of colors again, and he released her, closing his eyes as she eased the cloth around the edges of his sockets. “…stuff happened, then I thought I was awake, and…” He shivered, hunching his shoulders again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” she assured him, turning to wring out the washcloth and dab more soap on it, wondering what exactly he’d seen. Her heart was starting to feel quivery again. “Look up, please,” she said, trying to feel maternal.

The skeleton remained docile through several more scrubbings and a final once-over. He had recovered enough by now to towel himself dry, but as he handed it back, he absently wiped his face one more time on his sleeve. “Sans,” she scolded him, pointing in the mirror to yet another red streak on his jaw, this one transferred from his shirt. Frisk picked up the washcloth with a sigh. “We’re going to have to send that to the laundry.” She swiped the last bit off. “I won’t blame you for getting upset after whatever that thing did to you, but…”

“I wasn’t—” There was a slightly stupid pause as he tried to formulate a denial of having been upset. She just looked at him, and he switched tactics, protesting, “Hey, you got messy, too. ’s yer own fault. Next time, don’ grab me like that.”

Frisk wouldn’t dignify that with a response, though he was correct that her robe had dark splotches on the front and back. As Sans poked at his sleeves to check if they really had to be washed, the priestess leaned toward the mirror and opened her robe, seeing where his tears had soaked through and left rusty spots on her cleavage. “Dirt. You’re right, I need a bath.” The young woman sighed and rubbed her eyes, unaware that Sans had looked up, or that his entire world had instantly become fixated on the front of her robe. “Maybe after breakfast.”

Sans didn’t answer, but the silence felt different this time. Frisk stopped as she heard how heavily he was breathing. Funny, she remembered that sound from…from her dream. She swallowed hard, and without thinking, she turned to face him.

Sans moved very deliberately, kneeling in front of the priestess with his arms outstretched on either side of the sink and his face looming above hers. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes burning, breath hitting her like steam. When she tried to speak, he leaned closer. “Don’t move,” he rasped in her ear.

“Okay,” said Frisk, sounding much calmer than she felt. Despite his injunction, she glanced down and realized she’d forgotten to cover herself.

Damn, damn, damn! She’d never heard him like this before! What was wrong with—

Frisk stopped and gave herself a mental smack in the face, because she knew exactly what was wrong with him. “Sans, please,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding.

A soft growl. “Seriously, Frisk. ‘m tryin’ not ta lose it here. Just…just gimme a minute.”

The young woman nodded. Should she try to calm him down, or put him to sleep? Whistling usually worked fast. She swallowed again, and licked her lips.

Wrong move: Sans leaned down and nudged her hard with his cheek. “Hey.” His voice gave her chills, mostly not good ones. “Ya do that again, and…” He inhaled so hard that she felt a rush of cold against her scalp. She tried not to wince or make a sound as he exhaled. “I already said no more noises. ‘Kay? They’re not gonna work on me right now,” he warned.

Think. Think, think. He was playing with her hair, one phalange trailing down her neck to her collarbone and her partly open robe. And a small part of her, an urge that steadily grew as his breath washed over her and his fingers brushed her cheek, actually wondered what would happen if she didn’t stop him. Hadn’t she wanted this for a long time, no matter how much she enjoyed his friendship?

No. Not like this, pinned against the bathroom sink, with him so worked up that one slip of his hand or teeth could do irreparable damage. “Sans,” Frisk said, loud enough to divert his attention. “I have two things to say. Can you listen to me for fifteen seconds?”

“…Good question.”

At least his hand had stopped moving. Before it could start again, Frisk said, “The first thing is that you have to stop. I am not ready for this, Sans, and neither are you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He was shaking again, the bones of his wrist rattling against the sink. She didn’t know whether to let him speak or keep him distracted, and quickly chose the latter: “The second thing is…why did the monster eat the tightrope walker?”

The trembling stopped. “Hm?” Sans paused, and she prayed that it’d be enough to shift his mental gears. “I…I dunno. Why?”

“Because,” Frisk said, “he wanted to have a balanced meal.”

Pause. “Heh,” Sans mumbled. “I thought it was ‘cause he wanted ta learn the ropes.”

He wasn’t moving. It hadn’t worked. Think think— “Come on,” she said, trying to sound old. “Be a nice skeleton.”

“…That.” Sans made a slight sound, and she almost wept with relief as his shoulders twitched. “That…” He started snickering, and put a hand to his forehead, allowing her to scramble away, yanking her robe shut. “Oh, man!” The skeleton leaned against the wall. “Why the hell—”

Frisk managed a smile. He glanced at her in the mirror, sobering. “Goddammit. …Sorry. I mean, dirt.” Sans got up and moved back against the wall. “Want me ta go away forever?” he asked, not very jokingly.

She shook her head. “No, but I think we’re long overdue for a talk about this.”

He flinched as though she’d poked him in the eye socket. Frisk waited for him to say something, anything, only to be interrupted by a knock on the outside doors.

Goddammit, indeed. The priestess allowed him to go welcome the distraction while she retrieved the washcloth to scrub the nearly-dry gunk off her breasts, thence to her dressing room to change into the most boring dress she owned and think things over.

On sober reflection, she mostly couldn’t believe that she’d been so determined to stay so stupid. Gaster had said to her face, under a truth spell, that Sans was “deeply in love” with her, direct quote. And what did she do? She’d actually checked a magic textbook to see if he could’ve possibly meant something else! How idiotic was she? Lust and love were not the same thing, but she knew Sans, and he wouldn’t be feeling one without the other. If both were in play now thanks to heightened emotions from those dreams, and then seeing her robe open…

Damnation. Now all she could think about was how she’d shown her scars the other night and let him touch her, and—oh, God, what about the time she lured him into the bathroom? The sleepovers? Dragging him along to tea and making him watch Luke flirt with her? The full-body hugs? If he’d actually felt this way the whole time, or even just part of it, what had she been doing to him?

Even worse was the realization that she hadn’t really believed it, and yet was operating on the half-conscious assumption that he was hers if she wanted him—stupid and presumptuous, not a good combination.

Well, no more. It was time to stop pretending her hopes for him were just going to work themselves out at some point, and to stop wasting her energy on endless what-ifs about physical or magical possibilities. None of it meant anything until she actually talked to him.

…At least she understood another aspect of her fortune now. She doubted if Sans knew that it was a crime for a human to have physical relations of any kind with a monster—Gaster might not even know. It very rarely came up, as monsters were primarily viewed as utilities, but miscegenation was a serious offense. It had been easy to avoid thinking about it or dismiss it as something she could get around via political influence, but going forward, she had to be realistic.

So. Realistically speaking, her good reputation – and Sans being a skeleton – had protected her from any real suspicion, but if he did somehow become her child’s father, she had no intention of trying to hide their relationship. Not only would she be unable to legally marry him, she’d have to call in some very sizable favors to avoid prison time or worse. Who knew? Maybe that was how she could get out of being High Priestess…

She was still deep in thought when she left the safety of her dressing room, not looking at Sans, who was devouring his breakfast as fast as he could. She decided to let him finish while she went through her morning mail, a task so boring that it was guaranteed to calm her down.

 ~

 The skeleton gulped down the rest of his food in record time, but couldn’t help peeking at her as he got up, trying to gauge her mood. Nope, she didn’t look mad, so—

He stopped, looked again, and frowned. Her expression was utterly blank, her hands gripping the paper so hard that the edges were digging into her skin. “Hey, hey,” Sans chided her, taking the note and setting it down on the table. “What’s wrong?”

He could barely hear her response: “We’re leaving.”

Blink. “Wha?”

Frisk didn’t move, except to stab a finger at the note. Sans picked it back up and felt his brows rise as he read aloud, “‘Greetings. His Grace the blah blah Duke Archibald blah blah Duke Archiblah requests the assistance of the exalted Thea in arbitrating the matter of eight monsters to be placed with new owners in—’ What the fuck does he mean, ‘new owners’?! I thought you—”

“I did!” Frisk’s face was white. “I can’t believe it. He’s doing this on purpose! He…”

Sans stared at the Duke’s crest on the little square of paper. “Yer dad?” he muttered.

“He knows, and I know that I did everything exactly right, and he still—” The High Priestess didn’t brush a tear away so much as slap it off her face. Sans watched helplessly as she closed her eyes and got her breathing under control. “Start packing, Sans. We’re leaving tomorrow morning,” she said, very cold and precise. “We’re going to bring those monsters back to the Underground ourselves, and I will stay for ten days as their first official human visitor in thirteen years, and if my father doesn’t like it, I will cordially invite him to go fuck himself. He’s certainly had enough practice.”

The boss monster’s jaw hung open. “I—”

“We’ll pack up everything today and commandeer two wagons tomorrow morning. I’ll take the monsters and say they’re going to my house in Riverside. We can stop there overnight.” She took the note back and began crumpling it into a tiny ball. “We are not going to tell anyone anything before we leave, including Dr. Gaster. If anyone else tries to tell me what I can’t do…” The High Priestess unfolded the ball and ripped it into halves, quarters, and tiny shreds before scattering the pieces.

Thus began one of the most hectic, stressful, yet anticlimatic days he’d ever had. Plans were discussed, or dictated to him; many many items were put into boxes or bags; and the little mental counter he’d had going of his days remaining in the castle was tossed out the mental window. He should’ve been glad that he was going to get her to the Underground so much sooner than expected, or at least somewhat grateful that the note had completely overshadowed the morning’s events, but frankly, he didn’t have the time.

…Until now, right after dinner, when they finished wrapping the last of the empty glass vials in some of the furs for Mettaton and stuffed it into the last empty satchel. Frisk glanced at him and bit her lip, and before she even spoke, Sans hopped up and retreated to the bedroom.

Sure as Fate, Frisk got up, too, and she followed him in before he could shut the door. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring at the rust-brown spots on the white sheets. “I hope they can get those out,” he mumbled.

“Sit down,” she said.

Sans turned to stare at her. “What—”

“Sit down, Sans.”

Something in her tone sent prickles up his spine and down his limbs. He shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze. “I think I’ll sleep out there. We’ve got a hell of a lot of—”

“Sit down on the floor right now.”

Her voice was low and perfectly gentle, but it made him fold his legs and settle his coccyx on the floor, and all he wanted was to leave the room. “Frisk,” he pleaded.

“Keep your hands where they are.” The boss monster shut his eyes as she came close enough for him to feel her body heat and smell the wine she’d had after dinner. It hadn’t been that much, had it?

Now her arms were around his shoulders, hanging most of her weight and all of her softness against him like a necklace. Sans went rigid, his breath coming quick and harsh. Not again!

Frisk rested her head on his jawbone. “What did you dream about, Sans?”

Whatever she was doing, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t lie to her. “I…was the way I used ta be, my old size. I was gettin’ in bed with you, and ya let me…” What the hell was she doing to him? “…ya let me do everythin’ I wanted. Then I woke up, ‘n you were dead. I bit yer neck clean through, you were all twisted up, blood everywhere—”

“It was a lie, Sans. You didn’t kill me.”

“‘Course it was a lie! It was a fuckin’ dream!” He laughed shakily. “Pun intended, I guess. Point is—”

“The second part was a lie. The first part really happened, just not here or now.”

Sans snorted. “I don’ even know what that means. It was just a dream, Frisk. Hate ta break it to you, but they’ve got lotsa stuff in ‘em that doesn’t actually happen.”

“Really. Like this?” She ran her hands over her skull, and Sans’ whole body shuddered. Her voice dropped. “Should I demonstrate anything else we did?”

He was panting again, jaws hanging slightly open. If she wanted to talk about this— “D’you know what’d happen if I fucked you for real?” he snarled, and it was her turn to flinch. “Even if I squashed myself down to my human size, an’ I made sure everything else fit,” he said scathingly, “’m not a human, an’ I’d still be pumpin’ ya full of magic. And guess what? I’ve been stewin’ in all this hate and the shit I absorbed from the Underground over…what, ten, twelve years?” He snorted. “Ya still won’t let me infuse anything ‘cause my magic sucks. Givin’ it to you would be the same thing, but a million times worse.” His hands flexed inside his pockets. It was almost a relief to be getting all of this out…almost. “Yer magic’s pretty damn strong, ‘specially for a human, an’ you could maybe handle a little of mine, but I’m a boss monster, remember? I dunno exactly how high my power’s scaled up compared to a regular monster, but it’s way the hell too much. I’d kill ya one way or another.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” the priestess said. “I’m going to have a child by next All Souls Day and bring it to the festival, remember? I can’t do that if I’m dead.” Something very soft brushed the side of his head. “I understand what you’re saying, and I know you’re worried about me. But it’s not impossible. Gaster said you’ve been sloughing off whatever’s built up around your SOUL. You can do it, Sans.” The soft touch was her hand; she was petting him like…not like a dog, more like a mother with an upset child.

…Right. That was how she’d pacified him the very first time they met, when he was going to obliterate her and steal her SOUL. She’d petted his blaster until he just stopped being angry. Fucking hell, what if he’d really done it?

Just like before, he couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t stay mad. He hadn’t blasted her. She was fine. Sans breathed in, and out. He felt her shifting along his ribs, and his mind jumped back to what he’d seen in the mirror when she forgot to close the robe. She could’ve obliterated him with a barrier at that range, but she never did what any sane woman would do. Telling him that joke about the tightrope walker, saying they weren’t ready yet—

Click, click, click. Sans could actually feel things settling into place, realization crashing through the wall of anger and self-pity. “We’re not ready yet? Meaning…”

If that seemed to come out of nowhere, Frisk didn’t show it. “No, we’re not. At the very least, I want to be back safe in the Underground and have things straightened out with Asgore before I think about that,” she said. “And you need to practice…sizing.” Squirm. “But mostly, stop hating yourself so much. Please.”

A long pause, and one bewildered, honest question: “Why?”

Frisk sighed in patient exasperation. “Think about it,” she said into what would’ve been a human ear. “Meanwhile, you’re right. We need to get some sleep.”

“Seriously?!” Sans struggled to get his hands out of his pockets as she stepped away. “Ya can’t say all that an’ expect me to just—”

Frisk was back in front of him, and before he could blink, her hand went to the side of his face, resting on his cheekbone. “I know that was a lot to take in, but the point is that I want to help you, Sans,” she said. “Right now, that means sleep. Can I sing something for you?”

The last of Sans’ resistance crumbled as he placed his massive hand on hers, trapping it against his cheek. She’d won. If she wanted him to think he was great and not a giant, psychotic, poisonous piece of shit, he’d do it. If she wanted to wait till they were Underground and then let him have her, he wasn’t going to argue anymore. If she wanted him to tear his own head off and eat it…

Frisk indicated the bed with a motion of her head. As he stretched out and closed his eyes, still disbelieving, she cleared her throat. Out came that glorious sound he remembered, the same song: “May all your dreams be sweet tonight, safe upon your bed of moonlight. And know not of sadness, pain, or care…”

He didn’t care anymore about dreams, or his crappy magic, or what a pain tomorrow was going to be. I’m goin’ home, he thought. Goin’ home with her. For now, that was good enough.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (40) Homecoming

This chapter is dedicated to my irl friend Kris, who found this story on his own and then told me he was reading it, which completely freaked my bean. 

Re-reading this story, I remembered thinking about having Tom and Sabine be stress bakers. It was more of a comedy point. But now knowing there are flour outages because of so many people stress baking during quarantine, I think it’s very in character. 

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Oh look at that! Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, Adrien.” Dr. Boucher praised. “I love bloody skin grafts.” 

Adrien was on his stomach, but propped up with pillows to keep the weight off of his chest. The bandages on his back were coming off permanently today. 

And they would be going home. 

Well, to the Agreste mansion at least. 

Until things calmed down more, and the new security system was installed at the bakery. 

“No sign of infection, no blackening of any skin. This is just what I hoped to see.” 

“It still looks awful,” said Gabriel, mercilessly. 

“Well, of course it does. And the stitches make it look even worse. But take a look at this!” The doctor pressed a finger against the skin graft for a moment and then pulled away. There was a white spot where he pressed, before it turned pink again. “You see? He’s got a nice blood flow. That means my biggest worries with him are mostly over.” 

He took off more bandages lower down, revealing his buttocks and thighs. “However, the graft came from the groin area. The donor site is looking good too, but the skin is still raw and tender. Walking will be painful for a few weeks still.” Carefully, he rolled Adrien’s thigh to reveal the yellowish gauze on the inside of his legs. It just looked like a really bad rug burn underneath. 

“Sitting might also be unpleasant, given the stretching to the stitches from your lower back to your calves. If you are able to prop up your legs, that should help.” 

Adrien grunted in confirmation. 

“Loose underwear and pants. The more breathable the better. You may shower, but nothing is to be submerged in water. If the xeroform gauze gets wet, blot it dry gently, and use a hair dryer at the lowest setting. You might have to do that a few times a day. As the skin heals, the xeroform will pull off. Just trim it off with scissors. It should be about another two weeks before it pulls all the way off. Your arm stays in the sling for two more weeks, but you can use it as need be. Just be careful. Continue to clean your ears with saline until all of the piercings are healed, then you can take out the earrings. Take all medicine as prescribed, when designated. I’ve included all this information in your care packet.” 

“Thank you,” said Gabriel. 

The doctor smiled and turned to the other side of the room. “And how is Marinette feeling today?” 

“She’s a little sleepy today,” provided Tom. 

Marinette laid on her side, away from Adrien. She didn’t acknowledge the doctor. 

“Not excited about getting to go home in time for Christmas, sweetheart?” 

“I’m ecstatic.” She said dully. 

“I can tell,” Dr. Boucher chuckled. “Did you hear what I told Adrien?” 

“Hmm-mm.” 

“Showers are fine, but don’t submerge any wounds. Mr. Agreste said that your shower has been fitted with a bench so won’t risk standing in water.” 

“Cool.” 

“Take all medicine as prescribed and when designated.” 

“Got it.” 

“Would you please look me in the eye and say that again?” 

Marinette turned to face him, and said calmly. “Yes Dr. Boucher, I will take my medicine exactly as prescribed and at the right times.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled. “I’m not trying to patronize you, I just wanted you to remember.” 

“I know.”

“Good. Now, if anything happens after you leave, you trip and fall, some other symptom pops up, etc. call me, and I’ll come right over. No need to tough things out. We want a nice, smooth recovery.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Alright! Let’s get you dressed and checked out!” 

—

Tom, Gabriel, and the Gorilla accompanied them down to the lobby. Sabine has stayed back at the mansion, preparing for their return. Marinette and Adrien were both put in wheelchairs, as they were both still too weak to make the trip. 

As soon as they got off the elevator, applause began as staff and patients alike lined the hall and cheered them on. 

Marinette sunk farther into her chair. “Why are they all here?” She asked her father. 

“Because they love you, and they’re happy to see that you’re alright.” 

“How could they love me?” 

“Darling, you’re Ladybug.” 

“That doesn’t make up for what happened. Just one unforgivable deed can ruin the public’s opinion of a person. Why would I get any special treatment?” 

Tom sighed. “You’ll understand eventually.” 

Eventually, they ended up at check out. Marinette paid little attention to what was being said. They talked billing and insurance, future appointments for suture removal and check ups. Boring stuff. 

Adrien was by her side, about a foot away, and he rested his arm out, palm up for her to take. 

She pretended not to see it. 

Then soon enough, they were moving again, the Gorilla hurrying on ahead to pull up the car. 

“Adrien should sit in the front,” said Marinette. “So he has more leg room.” 

Adrien whined in protest, but Gabriel ignored him. “I think that’s a good idea.” 

Before they even went outside, however, they could already hear the crowd waiting for them. 

“Shit,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. “The media has been patrolling the entrance, but it looks like someone found out today was discharge day.” 

“Don’t these people have anything better to do? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve for crying out loud.” Grumbled Tom. 

Marinette pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, and pulled the cords taut. Adrien noticed, and mimicked the action. The police stood nearby, ready to keep back the crowds.

The cold December air burst over them in a flurry, blowing right through them, as the voices shouted and cried out for attention. Mostly demanding and questioning, but some with anger.  

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!”

“What are you going to do now?” 

“Will you ever get back to superhero work?” 

“Is it true that you’re both married officially?” 

“Will you be passing on the Miraculous?!”

“Adrien, over here!” 

“Murderers!” 

“Have you heard anything from Hawkmoth?”

“Are you in league with Hawkmoth now?”

“Monsters!” 

Marinette kept her head down as her father helped her into the car. She was placed in the middle seat, as Gabriel sat on her left. The Gorilla helped Adrien into the front, and placed the wheelchairs in the trunk. 

Like the red sea, the reporters parted from the front of the car, but didn’t relent in their questions. 

“How bad are your injuries?”

“Where are the other Miraculous users?” 

“How could you betray us!?”

“What are you going to do with the money from the concert?”

The moment everyone was buckled and settled, the Gorilla peeled out of the drive and sped away to the mansion. 

“Jesus Christ. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” 

“Must be a slow news day everywhere else.” 

Tom pulled Marinette against him. “It’s okay, Marinette. It won’t take long before this all calms down.” 

“Yeah, like in a few decades.” She muttered. 

The ride was mostly silent, as Tom tried to introduce small talk. But between two people that didn’t talk, and two people not willing to talk, it was more awkward than not. 

Soon they reached the mansion, and even more media awaited them. 

Marinette covered her ears to ignore it. 

The Gorilla pulled right up to the steps, the gate locking the unwanted guests out. 

“I want to walk up the steps on my own.” Marinette demanded. 

“Alright, I’ll be right there to catch you,” said her father, helping her out. 

The Gorilla lifted Adrien out of his seat, and carried him up the stairs. 

Each step hurt, despite having shoes and socks on. She leaned on the rail, while her father’s hand steadied her back. It was slow, but she was doing it on her own. 

The doors to the mansion opened, and immediately they were warmed. Not just by the heat, but by the lights, the glitter, and bright colors. 

Now it felt like Christmas. Garland strung across the banisters, little hints of Christmas scattered over end tables and furniture, and a tree, bare and surrounded by boxes of decorations. 

It felt like a home. 

Marinette let out a little hum at the sight. Her parents must have run home to collect their own decorations to make it feel like their home. 

“Pretty,” she said with a little smile. 

“Oh I’m so glad you like it!” Alya stood from where she was checking lights. “I had no idea if you were going to be up for Christmas, but I figured you wouldn’t at least mind the decorations.”

“Looks very nice,” she stated again. “I’ll enjoy it more in a bit. I really just want to take a shower.” 

“Fair enough!” 

Adrien whined. 

“Stay down here,” she demanded, without looking at him. “It doesn’t make any sense for you to wait for me upstairs when I’m coming right back down.” 

He whined again, but it sounded more like he was relenting. 

The Gorilla deposited him gently on a chair near the tree as Marinette once again, independently climbed the stairs. 

Alya rested a hand on Adrien’s knee. “What do you think, Sunshine? Festive enough?” 

He shrugged. 

“Eh,” Nino winced. “Adrien’s not really...big on Christmas.” 

“My wife is obsessed with Christmas,” explained Gabriel. “Since she...disappeared, it’s been hard. A lot of memories.” 

Adrien shifted uncomfortably. 

“Then we’ll all make some new ones together.” Said Sabine, resting a hand on his head. “Then we’ll honor the ones you have, and it might not sting as much.” 

Adrien didn’t look thrilled at the idea, but he was hard to read. He shuffled his feet, and pulled at the legs of his pants. 

He didn’t really seem to be listening. 

So they let him be, and got back to decorating.  

—

When Marinette reached Adrien’s room, she sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“Great job!” Praised Tikki. “That was a lot of stairs! And you did it all by yourself!” 

“Stupid thing to be happy about,” she frowned. “I’m strong enough, my feet just hurt.” 

“You’ve got to celebrate the little things.” Tikki flitted over to Marinette’s suitcase behind the couch. “Otherwise you’ll get discouraged.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Tikki wasn’t bothered by the reaction, and only picked out some clothes and moved them into the bathroom. 

Adrien’s room had also been decorated for Christmas. There was a garland stretched across the railing to the second story. Another undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room by the windows. The bed was made, with fresh sheets and a festive blanket on the foot of the mattress. By the pillows sat the little Ladybug and Chat Noir plushies. 

Marinette grit her teeth as she leaned forward to untie her shoes. It wasn’t enough to pull her stitches on her back, but it did sting. 

“Do you need help?” Tikki asked after watching her struggle.

“No.” She finished untying her laces, and then started to pull them off. 

The worst of the cuts on her feet were on the ball of her foot, right by her big toe, and it hurt the whole time she slid out of her shoe. 

She still had to take her socks off, but she was exhausted. 

Tikki seemed to pick up on it and pulled her socks off for her, pulling gently to not catch on the stitches. 

“Thank you, Tikki.” 

“Of course Marinette. Please don’t feel ashamed to ask for help. I want you to get better.” 

Marinette didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree. Slowly, she stood and sauntered her way to the bathroom. 

The tile was cool on the irritated skin. She shucked off her sweatpants and sweatshirt, then her shirt and underwear. 

Then she sat on the toilet, feeling tired again before she could reach the shower. 

“Here’s your hairbrush.” Tikki added, dropping it on the counter. 

“Thanks.” 

“Would you like me to stay in here? Or wait outside?” 

“Wait outside.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “please.” 

“I understand. You want your privacy. Well, if you need me, I’ll be out in Adrien’s room.” And she shut the door behind her. 

Gathering her strength, Marinette sauntered over to the shower and turned it on. It didn’t take long at all for it to warm up, and she slid onto the bench, sitting sideways in the stream of water. 

Words couldn’t describe the comfort clean, warm water gave her as it rushed over her body. She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair and let the suds slide down her skin. The luxurious fragrance of expensive soap filled her nostrils, hiding the stench of infection and body odor. The dirt and grime that had persisted even after the sponge baths, were disappearing down the drain, leaving nothing but smooth, clean skin. 

She used a washcloth to scrub at the bloodstains, rubbing her skin raw. Maybe if she rubbed hard enough, she could wash all the bad memories away. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

After her hair was shampooed and conditioned, and her skin was raw from her frantic scrubbing, she just sat on the bench, letting the water beat on her. Clear her head of thoughts, good and bad. 

And just exist.

Like that night in the rain. 

She had leaned on Chat’s—Grimalkin’s chest then. He wrapped his arm around her, and kissed her forehead tenderly, like they hadn’t just murdered 14 people. 

A moment in the rain with Adrien. 

How different things had become. 

Before, she loved the rain. It reminded her of falling in love. Of misunderstandings turned to forgiveness, and friendships starting in the most sincere and innocent of ways. But now the rain tasted bitter. It was cold on her skin and made her hair hang flat to her head. 

There was no umbrella, no laughter, no fireworks. 

And even the boy she shared the moment with became a blur. 

When living your last moments, it’s easy to say ‘I love you’. There’s no fear, no considering, no sorting out your feelings. Just the desire for comfort and to lean on someone, and to let your feelings known without regrets. 

She loved Adrien, she knew that in her head. And she had moments with Chat Noir where her heart would beat faster and she’d feel at home. 

But the twisted version of her boy was so foreign to her. They had both come out of torture as different people, that was obvious. But the month she was separated from him, something changed in his mind. It cracked. Or maybe it was the flogging, or even the akumatization. 

Somewhere, the sunshine goofball she treasured was swallowed, and a blank slate was left behind. 

Adrien and Chat Noir still never melded together for her. They hadn’t gotten to develop that gap organically. It was just a constant fight for their lives with no development. 

It was her and him together, and that’s all it was. All it needed to be. 

So what was different now? Why was everything so complicated? 

Finally, she turned the water to cold, letting herself be pelted to numbness before she turned it off completely. 

She stood, stepping out of the shower to get a towel. 

But the marble floor was slick and her feet flew out from under her. She immediately fell on the ground, landing hard on her back and bumping her head on the lip of the shower. 

It wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it did send searing pain up through the wounds in her back. 

Honestly, it would have hurt even if she didn’t just get out of the hospital. 

She didn’t cry out in pain though. She took the impact with as much grace as she could, only a rough grunt coming from her lips. 

Now to get up. 

She could do that, right? She just needed to sit up. 

Sit up. 

Sit. 

Oh she was exhausted. Her head throbbed as she fought off nausea. 

“Tikki?” She called weakly. 

“Did you call me, Marinette?” Tikki asked from outside. 

“Yeah...I...I fell. And I can’t...I can’t get up.” 

Tikki was silent on the other side. Marinette hoped she had rushed to get help, and hadn’t shrugged her off. 

Just a few minutes. 

Just a few…

—

Tikki swooped into the main room where everyone was still decorating. “Marinette fell!” She cried. 

Immediately, everyone abandoned their decorations and raced up the stairs, leaving Adrien alone on the couch. 

Tom, Sabine, and Alya burst into the bathroom, while Nino and Gabriel waited just outside, giving her privacy, but also waiting to help where they could. 

Marinette looked up at the sudden entrance. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

“Oh baby...” Sabine cooed, bending over her. “What hurts? Where did you land?” 

“I landed on my back, and I bumped my head.” 

“I’ll get an ice pack!” Gabriel called before leaving the room. 

“Do we need to call the doctor?” Asked Tom. 

“No, no don’t. I just...need some help getting up. I’m...weaker than I thought.” 

“How’s your spine? Does anything feel wrong?” 

“No, just my stitches.” 

“Okay, I just didn’t want to move you if you hurt your spine.” Tom took hold of her arm and pulled her up to sit. Then he scooped her up and moved her to sit on the toilet. 

Alya draped a towel over her legs. 

Sabine scooted behind her, touching her back. “I’m not seeing any bleeding, so I don’t think you tore anything.” 

“Girl, talk to us.” Alya demanded. “I see tears. What hurts?” 

“It all hurts,” she confessed with a whisper. “But I feel so stupid for falling...” 

Sabine took her hairbrush and started to comb out her hair. “Darling, no. You don’t need to worry about that. Accidents happen.” 

“Dr. Boucher told me to be careful. But I just wanted to shower on my own...” 

“Marinette,” her mother squeezed her hand. “We do not fault you for wanting to be independent or wanting privacy. You deserve it, you have the right to ask for it. This was simply an accident, and it’s not as bad as it could be.” 

“I’ll call the doctor,” said Tom. “I don’t think he needs to come, but it would be smart to get his recommendation.” 

“Sorry...” 

“No apologies necessary, honey.” Tom kissed her temple, and left the room. 

“Let’s get you dressed, Hmm?” 

“Yeah.” 

Only a few minutes later, Marinette emerged from the bathroom, clean and dry, dressed in fresh clothes. Sabine helped her to sit on the bed. 

Gabriel handed her a bag of frozen peas for her head, and Nino gave her a glass of water with some ibuprofen. 

“Dr. Boucher says he’s not too worried about it since she’s not bleeding or unconscious. He said there might be some extra soreness, but to call again if something feels sprained.” 

“I’m sorry...” Marinette looked down to her toes. 

“Really girl, stop apologizing.” Alya chastised. “We felt so helpless for so long, please let us help you now.” 

Marinette looked up to her shyly, and prepared to answer, but before she could, a low whine came from the door. 

Everyone collectively turned to look, only to find Adrien sitting at the door frame. 

“Adrien? How did you get up here?” Gabriel asked, dreading the answer. 

Adrien leaned forward to his hands and knees and started to shuffle slowly into the room. 

“Nope!” Tom rushed to him and lifted him off the floor. He carried him over to the couch and set him down. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Gabriel reprimanded. “Why didn’t you just stay downstairs?”

Adrien flinched, curling up on himself at the shout. 

Tom petted his head. “I’m sorry we left you down there alone. We won’t do it again.”

As soon as Adrien was on the couch, he was twisting to turn around to look at Marinette. He whined again. 

Marinette didn’t look at him. 

“She’s alright,” Sabine cooed. “Just bumped her head.” 

His eyes never left her, as he just stared with an unreadable expression. 

“Did you want to take a shower too, dude?” Asked Nino. 

But Adrien didn’t answer. It didn’t seem like he had heard him. 

“Adrien,” Gabriel stepped right in front of him and caught his eyes. “Do you want to take a shower?”

Adrien tried to look around him, back at Marinette, but she wasn’t looking at him. Not cuing him, not saying anything to him. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

“Adrien.” Gabriel pressed a little firmer. “Yes or no?” 

Why was a simple yes or no so hard? He didn’t know! He didn’t know!

The decision was taken away as Tom scooped him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe you’ll feel better afterwards.” 

As he was being taken away, he kept twisting to get a peek at Marinette. 

She never met his eyes. 

Once he was in the bathroom, Sabine helped Marinette over to the couch. “Here dear, just relax. We’ll put a movie on for you both, and we’ll decorate the tree! Won’t that be nice?”

“Hm.” She hummed noncommittally.

“You know, you have a lot of people that want to see you. So for Christmas Eve tomorrow, we’re thinking about having a big dinner. With the Cesaire’s, and Grandma and Grandpa, Chloe, and Jagged Stone and Penny! Won’t that be fun?”

“Yeah.” She said flatly. 

“If you’d rather not, they’d completely understand.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? I can call it off too. No pressure sweetie.” 

“Yeah, mom I said it’s fine!” She barked, “If I didn’t want to see them, I would have said no!” 

“Okay,” Sabine said patiently. “I just want you to be in control, but I also want you to have fun.”

Marinette sighed. Then she leaned over the back of the couch and looked in her bag. Not finding what she was looking for, she asked, more politely, “maman? Did you pack my favorite blanket? The gray and red plaid one?” 

“I packed your bag,” Alya clarified. “And no, I didn’t. Sorry girl. I can go grab it for you, though! Anything else you want me to get?”

“Can you also grab my cat pillow?” 

“Sure thing!”

“Wait a second, Alya, have Tom go with you.”

Marinette waited, sitting on the couch and looking out to the city. It was a gray, bleak sky, and even the buildings looked desaturated. While the twinkling of the lights in her peripheral vision showed a warm environment, the landscape in front of her reminded her of just how cold and unforgiving the world was. And how cold it would continue to be in the coming weeks. Perhaps even for the rest of her life. 

Alya plopped down on the couch next to her. “So what do you want to watch? Hallmark’s got some really great ones this year. And by great, I mean terrible. We can play your favorite game: car accident or cancer?” 

“I don’t want to watch a Hallmark movie. Too fake. Too predictable.” 

“Alright, you want a classic one then? Something you’ve seen a hundred times before?” 

“Yeah…yeah I think that’s what I want.” 

“Okay.” Alya dashed up to Adrien’s movie collection. “God, he’s got like every movie ever made up here! Umm…oh, this will work!” She grabbed the case and rushed down the stairs. “I know you like this one!” And she popped it in the player. 

A black and white film. A sleepy scenic town, covered in a layer of fresh snow. The voices of various people called up to prayer. 

And then a sea of stars, where two stars flickered in conversation. 

It’s a Wonderful Life. 

It wasn’t Christmas without it. She’d seen it a hundred times, her heart hurting until the end. 

It was hitting differently this year. 

Eventually, Adrien was brought out, fresh and clean. His hair damp and combed back. With Tom holding his hand, he tottered his way to the couch to sit next to Marinette. 

“Tom?” Asked Sabine, “Alya was going to run to the bakery to get some stuff for Marinette. Will you go with her?” 

“Of course!” 

“Would you like to take the car?” Asked Gabriel. 

“No, I think a walk will do just fine.” 

“Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Can't you come out tonight. Buffalo Gals can't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.”  

Marinette had noticed when Adrien sat next to her. He still sat just out of reach. One scoot and she’d be pressed against him. 

But she didn’t move. And neither did he. 

“Okay, then, I'll throw a rock at the old Granville house.” 

“Oh, no, don't. I love that old house.” 

An old house indeed. It was a weather-beaten, old-fashioned two-storied house that once was no doubt resplendent. 

“No. You see, you make a wish and then try and break some glass. You got to be a pretty good shot nowadays, too.” 

“Oh, no, George, don't. It's full of romance, that old place. I'd like to live in it.” 

“In that place?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I wouldn't live in it as a ghost. Now watch...right on the second floor there.” He hurled a stone at the window and broke it. An old man sitting on his porch sat up at attention.

“What'd you wish, George?” 

“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful, Mary. I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then I'm coming back here and go to college and see what they know...and then I'm going to build things. I'm gonna build air fields. I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm gonna build bridges a mile long…” 

As he talked, Mary had been listening intently. She finally stooped down and picked up a rock, weighting it in her hand. 

“Are you gonna throw a rock?” 

Mary threw her rock, and once more the sound of breaking glass echoed over the empty street. 

“Hey, that's pretty good. What'd you wish, Mary?” 

She threw him a flirty smile. “Buffalo Gals, can't you come out tonight…”

Alya and Tom returned from their trip, and set the pillow on the bed. Alya dropped the blanket over Marinette and Adrien both, then settled on the couch next to Adrien. 

“Scooch!” Nino demanded, as he wiggled into the seat next to Alya. Alya then bumped into Adrien, who slid over to be closer to Marinette.

Their legs pressed together. 

She didn’t acknowledge it, or the little whimper Adrien made. 

On the screen, George Bailey entered the old, run down house they had broken the windows to. It was run down, water dripping from the ceiling, and the wind was blowing the drapes around as the rain poured outside. But a huge fire burned in the fireplace. Near the fireplace, a collection of packing boxes were heaped together in the shape of a small table and covered with a checkered oilcloth, set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sat on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens roasted on a spit over the fire. A phonograph played on a box, a string from the phonograph turning the chickens on the spit. A Hawaiian song played on the record. Mary stood near the fireplace looking as pretty as any bride ever looked. She smiled at George, who had been slowly taking in the whole set-up. Through a door, there was the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which is a pair of pajamas and a nightie.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bailey.” 

“Well, I'll be...Mary, Mary, where did you…”

Ernie, the taxi driver, shoved George forward into Mary’s arms. 

The record ended, and Bert and Ernie sang from outside.

I love you truly, truly dear,

Life with it's sorrow, life with it's tear,

Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,

For I love you truly,

Truly dear!

Ah, love 'tis something, to feel your kind hand,

Ah yes, 'tis something, by your side to stand,

Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,

For you love me truly,

Truly dear!

A searing pain overtook Marinette’s hand. The pain of a burn, searing flesh and nerves to a blacked char. She looked down, her clenched fingers unfurling. 

Chat Noir. 

That was engraved into her palm, the scar still very angry and red. The new skin began to show through, a pale white. 

Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.

It was the voice of the officiant echoing in her head, some of his last words before he was shot and killed. The man that had married her to Adrien. 

She could feel the paint on her face, the itchy tutu on her legs, and the absolute humiliation of that mockery of a wedding. The drunken singing, the groping, the lifeless eyes of a corpse on the ground. 

In that case, let’s get a sailboat. Sail the world. At night, we’ll be just a silhouette surrounded by a myriad of stars. Spend our nights on the glassy water, where you can't tell where the sky begins and ends. Just the two of us, free to go wherever we want.

That was Adrien’s voice, when it still sounded like him. The last time she heard him speak.

When we’re out of here, we’ll have our perfect wedding. And then we’ll go, and never look back.

“Marinette?” Alya asked. 

Marinette just shook her head, and covered her face. She brought her legs up and curled up into the corner of the couch as far as she could. 

Mary spoke on the screen. “Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for.”

—

Day number...who even knew anymore. The dark and the silence made time go on forever. 

But the cement was not quite as cold, the ache in her knees not so strong, and she could hear traffic. 

This is a dream, she told herself. Just a nightmare. 

Just like every night. 

The door to her little cage opened, and there stood Ladybug. Her arms were crossed and she looked supremely disappointed.

“Well?” She asked. 

“Well what? You’re the one with the powers here.” 

Ladybug scoffed, not moving from the doorframe. “Don’t act dumb. I’ve had it with your attitude.” 

“You aren’t real,” Said Marinette. “And my attitude? You mean my trauma? My anxiety? My paranoia? You mean the fact that I don’t know who I can trust anymore? You mean the supreme weight of being closed in silence for a month? Is that what you’re sick of, Ladybug? My unheroic disposition? My unladylike mannerisms?”

Ladybug looked at her unflinching. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about at all. And you know it.” 

Marinette turned away. “I really wish it was.” 

“Because you have an excuse for it?” 

“And a logical explanation.” 

“I don’t think violent torture is logical.” 

“No. No it’s not.” Marinette scoffed. “Look, do you have a reason for bothering me? Or did you just come here to taunt me? O ghost of Christmas past?” 

“You know why I’m here.” 

“No, I really don’t. This is a dream right? Dreams don’t make sense. They say dreams have hidden meanings, but I really doubt reliving every torment I dealt with in the past month is anything but trauma.” 

Ladybug snapped her fingers, and in an instant, they were in Adrien’s room. Marinette was on the couch, where she had elected to sleep, despite the insistence against it from everyone else.

She didn’t look, but she knew Adrien was in his bed.

“You’re acting weird around Adrien again.” Ladybug stated coldly. “Why?” 

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. 

“You don’t know? Really? After all you’ve been through together, now you’re avoiding him?” 

“I’m not avoiding him!” 

“You haven’t said a word to him since he fought his way to you in the hospital!” 

“He can’t speak! It wouldn’t be fair!” 

“You won’t even look at him!” 

“That’s not true!” 

“Look at him right now!” 

“I—I can’t!” 

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” 

Marinette trembled. “I can’t...I can’t bear it...” 

“Bear what, Marinette?” 

It took awhile for her to have an answer. 

“I…I don’t know him.” She confessed. 

Ladybug didn’t answer, only looked down at her, waiting. 

“I don’t know if I ever knew him. How could I, if Chat and Adrien never felt like the same person? And now…this—“ She cut herself off. “I’m horrible. I’m cruel. And I’m unfair. I’m not the Marinette I used to be, so why would he be different? Shouldn’t I just…love him regardless?” 

Ladybug sat daintily next to her. “You know love isn’t easy. People change, and so must your love. But it’s not going to if you don’t communicate with him.” 

“He can’t talk.” 

“He can listen. And he can see. And he’s aware of every time you push him away. And he has no idea why you are. But, knowing him, he’s probably thinking the worst.” 

Marinette turned to look at him. He curled up in his bed, looking far too small for the king sized mattress. 

He looked restless and tense. 

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But don’t push away the person who understands your pain the most. Now wake up!” 

Marinette jolted awake, still on the couch. This time for real. She blinked a few times, noticing that it was snowing outside. The lights from the garden shined up to illuminate the flakes. 

Then, she noticed the blond head by her elbows. He was sitting on the floor, resting against the couch and watching the snowfall. 

“Adrien?” She whispered, ever so gently. 

He turned his head, looking at her with wide green eyes, full of panic. He had been caught. 

“Can’t sleep?” She asked again, still gently.

He shook his head, no. 

She sat up, making room for him. “Would you like to sit up here? It’ll be more comfortable.” 

He took her invitation and climbed onto the couch. 

Marinette took note of his posture, tense, closed off, unsure as he continued to watch the snow fall.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed.

He glanced at her again, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“I…this is going to sound so stupid, but…now that we’re not in mortal peril anymore, I’ve been thinking…” 

Tears gathered in his eyes as he started to scoot farther away from her. 

“No, wait, Adrien…ugh.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Look, Chat Noir and Adrien were always so different from each other. I told you I loved you, and I do, and I didn’t lie. But…if the reveal had happened naturally, I would have wanted more time.” 

He looked less upset now, and more just curious as he cocked his head. 

“Time to reconcile the two versions of you into one. But the person you are now is even more different…I’m just confused. And I still feel…really guilty about getting us into this position in the first place.” Tears started to sting at her own eyes before she shut them tight to will them away. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Kitty.” 

A hand fell on her shoulder. Sure, and strong as he gave her a little squeeze. 

“Hey, no sweat Marinette.” She could almost hear his voice.

His hand trailed down her arm to take her hand, before he gave it a little squeeze and brought it to his lips to kiss. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.” 

When she opened her eyes, she let out a shuddering sigh at the look on his face. One of adoration and trust. That slight smile, and eyes that sparkled with warmth. 

Adrien. 

The boy she loved. Her partner. 

The line was blurred, but not completely gone. But things already felt better. 

He let go of her hand and held out his arm, asking for a hug. 

She fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her soul. He smelled like Adrien used to smell, and had a quiet purr that Chat always had. 

“I love you,” she whispered. “I really love you.”

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her head. 

They stayed like that for a while, until Adrien yawned. 

“Let’s get back to bed, huh?” 

He gestured to his bed. 

“Yeah, I’ll join you.” 

He beamed. 

Slowly, they both shuffled to the bed, and dropped onto it. Marinette spread her blanket over both of them and snuggled down to rest. The bed really was more comfortable than the couch. 

Adrien hooked his ankles with hers, and reached out to take her hand. 

She just scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Then she left a peck on his lips. “Needy kitty.” 

He nuzzled against her head, lulling her back to sleep with his purrs. 

[danwhobrowses]

AEW Women’s Eliminator Tournament - Full Review

So as of tonight’s Dynamite the winner of the Eliminator Tournament is in the books, either Nyla Rose or Ryo Mizunami have overcome the other to earn the right to face Hikaru Shida at Revolution on Sunday

But now is time to look at the tournament as a whole and review how well AEW’s latest ambitious Women’s Division Project would/should be received

Warning: There will be immediate spoilers for the Winner under the ‘Keep Reading’, if you do not wish to know the Winner do not read until you have

So when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, Ryo Mizunami came out on top having pinned Nyla Rose for the win, claiming the spot at Revolution and the tournament.

Boy was my prediction wrong eh?

After being given the trophy by Shida however, Aniki refused to let go of the champion, trading and inviting blows from each woman until Shida was able to knock Mizunami down and raise the title aloft.

Was she people’s first choice to win? Probably not Is she an unworthy winner? Absolutely not

Mizunami is extremely experienced, her charisma can reach all ages, she has a genuine love for the wrestling (her sunglasses even have ‘I <3 AEW’ on them), she has aforementioned history with Shida and she went through 2 Fan-Favourites, the legendary Aja Kong and finally the previous Women’s Champion and No.1 Ranked Woman to get here.

And while we are on that topic, to the people who immediately condemned and criticized the tournament when Nyla made the finals: Don’t you get tired of being worked so easily? Honestly we had the exact same thing with the Deadly Draw, people don’t want competitor A (Nyla/Brandi and Allie) to win: so AEW put them in the finals so they root for competitor B (Aniki/Diamante and Iveliesse). Ye of so little faith

I also like to mention that it’s quite nice of Mizunami to be this rewarded by AEW and Shida given how she appeared on their first show at Double or Nothing, I didn’t know it at the time of my bracket rundown but apparently Mizunami was about to retire after DoN, but the crowd and energy of the match inspired her to keep going and push to reach a wider audience - which AEW is now letting her achieve.

Get it out of the way - The Negatives Make no mistake this tournament was great, but it doesn’t mean it was perfect. Of course my earliest criticism was that we could’ve had more, a bittersweet feeling I got when I realised the tournament was nearing its close. While yes it would’ve been nice to see the likes of Big Swole, KiLynn King, Allie, Penelope and perhaps even some debuts/returns, we cannot slight AEW too much for keeping the bracket small.

Time however was a bit of a constraint on AEW’s part. Having revealed late that the winner will face Shida for Revolution, the tournament matches started coming out fast...but on Youtube. Personally, I had no problem with the matches being a sole focus stream on Youtube, but I can also understand why not putting at least the entire American bracket on Dynamite would’ve hurt the tournament. If the tournament had more time I do believe that each match would’ve had a Dynamite showing and not a broken BR Live stream (but please note that BR Live were the problem there, not AEW).

A non-AEW criticism as well for Injury screwing over Anna Jay right as she was about to have her match, extremely rude of the world and we hope her shoulder heals up faster than usual.

The final criticism is probably with the BR Live US Bracket Finals video, simply put it was lacking compared to other streams. Madi vs Leva and Leyla vs Alize didn’t shine as much as Riho vs Rosa and the 6 Woman Joshi tag did in the prior stream, we could’ve probably gotten better matches out of that.

Why I loved it - The Positives I will look at anyone who says that this tournament was a waste and meaningless dead in the eye and tell them they are wrong, and they will be shocked to find that I am not lying.

The tournament not only put a lot of attention on the competing women but became a platform for AEW to show that they have some impressive women on their roster. The returns of Yuka, Emi and Riho paired with the stalwart performances of Baker, Rosa and Nyla as well as the bright showings of Madi, Anna, Tay Conti and Leyla shows that AEW still have a really good Women’s Division - I mean I love WWE but you have to admit their NXT women’s division bought many of their stars ready-made; Io, Toni, KLR, Meiko and Candice were already established names before WWE. Stack that on top of impressive performances by Red Velvet and Jade Cargill last night and the ranks of Big Swole, Allie, Penelope Ford, Kris Statlander, Shanna, KiLynn King and Tesha Price and you still have a strong division.

The tournament proved its worth also by the fact that there was not a single bad match on there, we had some bangers on each stage ranging from Yuka vs Emi, Rosa vs Riho, Nyla vs Baker and Leyla vs Rosa, among several others. The tournament succeeded in giving us great wrestling even with different formats of face vs face, heel vs heel, speed vs power, technique vs power, and even some new shades to the women such as heel Sakura and face Nyla.

I cannot praise the tournament without heaping a ton of praise on the Joshi. Shida and Kenny had always been adamant to show that the Joshi can be a revelation to Western audiences and they were paid in kind in that regard. All six Joshi brought out their A-Game to the point where several are asking for them to be signed, Sakura’s heel ‘Killer Queens’ faction rose interest with a fantastic entrance, while VENY dazzled with their gymnastic talent (and their wearing of the late Hana Kimura’s kimono), Mei Suruga and Yuka Sakazaki lit up the room with their speed and fun and Maki Itoh continues to be adored by the wider world into megastardom. The six woman tag as well was a nice cherry on the top to once again showcase the women, including Rin Kadokura who was fed to Aja Kong in the tournament, every bit of energy and charisma from the Joshi landed on the mark, it has opened several new fans to their home brands (TJPW however did kinda give away that Yuka wouldn’t win given how she was booked for one of their shows, but they’re still great) and have us gasping for more of those six and perhaps some extra, Miyu Yamashita for instance? Think about it TK

One thing that can really harm a tournament too is predictability, which this tournament did not have. You have to commend the balls of AEW to set up 5 fan favourite choices to win and have them each be felled and swerve the entire fanbase. It was for the most part good swerves as well, leading up to the Nyla work included, and actually made me feel like this tournament had big stakes for each member. People will criticize its unpredictability but I won’t be one of them, just because it didn’t go how you personally predicted it doesn’t mean it’s bad.

Also a stand out yes for Rosa’s several gear, especially the Selena one against Riho, and Hikaru Shida herself slaying it in the white suit, like lord almighty thank you for this food.

Was it worth it? - Conclusion This is an emphatic yes for me. AEW will always have its critics, fair and unfair, but if you have to wonder whether this tournament is a success you have to simply look at it this way

Were you entertained?

For me yes, there was a 100% consistency in good to great matches in this tournament paired with genuine surprises that got people talking and invested in the tournament itself.

Did it give you something fresh?

A dark horse winner who earned her way to face Shida for the 5th career time and 1st time in an AEW ring through outwrestling, outpowering and outwitting their previous opponents, unique heel/face changes and a showcase of new wrestlers and matchups? I’d say that’s a yes

Did anyone get over?

You ask anyone before this tournament was announced who Ryo Mizunami, Maki Itoh, VENY or Mei Suruga was and you’d likely get blank faces, thanks to AEW they are known and commended by several fans outside of Japan. You ask people if Tay Conti can bring a physical match to Nyla and almost win and you’d get a few murmurs, if you asked people if they though Kenny was valid for his push to bring the Joshi into a wider audience prior to this may’ve said no. Those minds were changed because these women got over. In addition to that the popularity of Thunder Rosa, Riho and Yuka Sakazaki has continued to rise as some of AEW’s top babyfaces, Leyla Hirsch, Emi Sakura and Tay Conti’s stock have rose thanks to the tournament and Nyla and Baker have delivered on strong match performances.

When you consider those three, there is no way you could call the tournament a failure or a waste, people benefitted from it in a good way which means it was a good tournament.

I for one will look forward to seeing Shida take on Aniki and see how it unfolds at Revolution - which I hope to do a review for, I’m also guessing that Paul Wight’s aquisition is either Christian or Okada. Many will of course assume that this is an easy retain for Shida (and act like winning the tournament means you should win the following match as if people don’t win the Royal Rumble/MITB/KOTR/Dusty Classic and lose in their title shot), but how many of those people thought that Itoh, Kong, Yuka and Nyla would beat Mizunami? She keeps on extending the party and coming out on top, you cannot underestimate the tournament winner, Shida produced this tournament, she’s picked her winner now she needs to fight them.

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA (for eventual smut)

Summary:  After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 3

“You’re cheating.”

Kristoff was staring at nothing, lost in a memory.

“Kristoff, I’m your friend.”

He would never forget those words.

“Kristoff!” he heard, accompanied by a snap. Suddenly he was back in the present.

“Uh, what?”

“Ryder accused me of cheating, back me up here, bud!” Sven said. “I would never cheat against my three favorite people in the entire world.”

“You absolutely would,” Kristoff responded without missing a beat.

“See?” Ryder said to Sven. “Seems like I’m Kristoff’s better friend.”

“Impossible, I refuse to believe it,” Sven said in an exaggerated French accent.

“Actually,” Anna interjected, “I saw you taking money out of the bank.”

“Wha-a-a-at? No-o-o-o!” Sven denied emphatically.

“Sven, come on,” Ryder said. “How is it that you have just as much money as when we started but you have six properties?”

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Sven conceded. He began to return the money he stole, mumbling curses under his breath.

“Okay, Anna, your turn,” Ryder said.

This was surreal to Anna. She had only known these guys for three days, but she was eight rounds deep in a game of Monopoly with them tonight. She had great first impressions with Sven and Ryder, and a half-decent second impression with Kristoff who, to her, was the easiest of the three of them to look at. With every passing moment, she was even more sure she made the right decision by moving in with them.

“Okay, I’ll remember to roll both dice this time,” Anna said with unwavering confidence. “Woo-hoo, ten!” she yelled. She picked up the little chrome terrier and tapped it on every space in front of it. “One, two, three, four…”

Kristoff rubbed his face. “Anna, I told you, there are ten spaces on every side, you don’t have to-“ He was abruptly cut off by Sven slapping his knee.

“Let her!” Sven hissed, enunciating each word separately. Kristoff raised his hands.

“Alright, if you all are okay with not sleeping tonight…”

“Look, I got there eventually, right?” Anna said as she placed her token on the B & O Railroad. “Does anyone have this?”

“Nope,” Ryder said. “It’s all yours.”

“Nice!” She looked closely at the space on the board. “It’s 200 dollars, right?”

“All railroads are 200 dollars,” Kristoff complained.

“Okay, well, I didn’t know.” She gathered up the money and handed it to Sven. “B & O Railroad, ple-e-ease.”

“My pleasure,” Sven responded. “By the way, since you own two railroads now, the rent for both is 50 dollars.”

“She knows,” Kristoff said.

“Actually,” Anna interjected, “I didn’t know. Thank you, Sven.”

Sven responded with a little flourish.

“But we told you at the beginning of the game,” Kristoff countered

“Oh, you did?” Anna said sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Anna, you have to pay attention if we’re gonna play games with you.”

“Okay, but I’ve never played this before,” Anna reasoned.

“How have you never played Monopoly?”

“Come on, Kristoff,” Ryder said, “can’t you be patient?”

“Why is everyone mad at me now?” Kristoff asked.

Sven butted in to try to ease the tension. “No one’s mad at you, Kris.”

Kristoff turned to Sven. “You hit me, like, thirty seconds ago!”

“Because you were being a baby!”

“I told you guys we should’ve played Sorry,” Ryder said, crossing his arms and pouting his lips, clearly upset that “loft game night,” as Sven called it, was turning into an argument.

“Look, Monopoly is a high stakes game, I understand why some of us-” Sven began, turning his gaze to Kristoff. “-are stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” Kristoff grumbled under his breath.

Anna glanced at him and took in his hunched over posture and crossed arms, wondering if he was just playing it up for laughs or if he was really bothered by this whole thing.

“Let’s just start over,” Sven suggested.

Anna, Ryder, and Kristoff simultaneously let out noises of protest.

“I meant,” Sven said, raising a hand to silence his roommates. “Let’s just calm down and refresh, not start the whole game over. Geez.” Sven let out a small huff of frustration. “Now, where were we?”

“I think I’m buying the B & O Railroad,” Anna said.

Sven replied with an easy smile. “200 smackers, please.”

The rest of the game went smoothly. Kristoff still commented on how Anna counted every space for every turn, and she still fumbled with her bank money, but throughout the game, they laughed and poked fun at each other all the same. Still, Anna couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering Kristoff. Sven turned a sympathetic gaze to him every so often, only fueling her suspicion that something was up with him. Anna couldn’t help but feel like somehow it was her fault.

“Alright, I’m done,” Sven said, placing his money down on the board. They had to have been playing for at least an hour, and they were no closer to the end than they had been at the start.

“Me too,” Ryder echoed.

“Thank god,” Kristoff sighed dramatically, throwing his money down to mingle with Sven and Ryder’s on the middle of the board. “I was getting my ass handed to me.”

“Well, I guess that means Anna wins,” Sven said, turning to her.

“Wait, what?” Anna responded incredulously.

“You’re the only one who didn’t just throw your money down, so by all accounts, you’re our winner.”

Anna knew it was a shallow victory, but she still felt exhilarated not only to have won but also to have been included in their game night at all.

“Congrats, Anna!” Ryder said, earnestly. “I gotta turn in though. I have an early day tomorrow.” Ryder stood up and brushed himself off. “This was fun. Although not as fun as Sorry would have been, just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah, sleep tight, asshole,” Sven snorted, waving his hand at him dismissively.

Ryder put his hands up in mock defeat and headed off to his room.

“I have to turn in too, actually,” Sven started, patting his knees and standing up. He stretched back and let out a satisfied grunt as his back cracked. “Kris, it’s your turn to clean up.”

“Yup, just like it is every game night, huh?”

“Naturally,” Sven countered, turning to walk to his room.

Kristoff rolled his eyes. Suddenly, it was just the two of them. It felt like the room had been pulled into silence.

Kristoff began picking up the pieces, the crinkling of the paper money, and the clinking of the tiny game pieces the only sounds in the room.

Anna began to help, leaning forward and placing the money in stacks and folding up the game board. The silence was killing her.

“Hey, I’m sorry about being bad at the game. I really hadn’t played it before tonight.”

Kristoff cleared his throat. “No, uh, don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’m sorry for being so...” He paused as if to mull over which word to use. “...grumpy.”

“You’re fine. If you’re grumpy enough, it starts to seem normal for you.”

“Oh, uh…” Kristoff didn’t want to be known to Anna as the grumpy one. “...I don’t mean to--I mean, I didn’t mean to-”

“Kristoff, seriously, don’t worry about it. Where do these go?” Anna asked, holding up the stack of property cards.

“In that slot there. I just…”  Kristoff hadn’t tried to make her feel bad. He wasn’t a very patient person to begin with, but the unpleasant memory from the beginning of the evening had seeped into the rest of the night and put him on edge even more so than usual. He just felt like an asshole. He watched her shuffle the four piles of money together and begin to sort them into their colors. Of course, he thought Anna was cute, but it wasn’t until just now--noticing how her fiery red hair fell along the subtle curve of her back and waist, how the freckles on her nose and cheeks highlighted her pale skin and radiant blue eyes, and how her navy blue leggings left virtually nothing to the imagination--that he realized he found her so attractive it was borderline insensible.

“...Yes?” Anna asked.

Kristoff snapped out of his daze. “Oh, right, uh...I just hope you know I’m not grumpy all the time.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not!” Anna offered Kristoff a gentle smile. “Just most of the time.” Her sweet smile turned mischievous.

Kristoff smiled and looked away. He didn’t want to be into a girl, let alone his roommate, so soon after his last relationship, but he was finding it hard to fight his feelings- the easy way she smiled at him, how she went out of her way to be nice to him despite his tendency to act standoffish. He missed being in a relationship, too. He brushed the thoughts aside. Despite his feelings, he wasn’t ready or willing to get into anything again anytime in the near future.

“Listen, you don’t have to be nice to me just because you’re new,” Kristoff said. He felt guilty for how nice she was being to him. He didn't want her to feel like she had to do that.

Anna gave him a sideways look. “...Okay? Can I be nice to you anyway?”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to force it.”

“I’m not.”

“I know, but-”

“Do you think I’m not nice normally?”

“No, that’s not it, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Kristoff paused. “...Nothing. I’m happy you’re nice to me.” He closed the game box and headed toward his room. “‘Night, Anna.”

“Oh, okay. Goodnight, Kristoff.” Anna picked up the box and returned it to its spot on the shelf, all the while gazing puzzledly at Kristoff’s ambling form until he entered his room and shut the door.

She still didn’t get him. Sven and Ryder were pretty easy to like and, from there, easy to become friends with. Kristoff, though, was a whole different story. He seemed to get along with Sven and Ryder just fine; at least, that’s what she gathered from her relatively short time living here. She just couldn’t figure out why he was so cold to her whenever the four of them were together but would warm up to her noticeably whenever it was only the two of them. Did he see her differently than he saw Sven and Ryder just because she’s a girl? Or did he just not know her well and didn’t know how to behave around her? She shook her head. She knew she was overthinking this. She decided she was just going to try to be as friendly as she could to him, regardless of how he treated her.

After all, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with him.

* * *

Kristoff was kicking himself for every moment of game night. First, he got lost in a bad memory, then he made Anna feel bad about taking her time to learn the game, then after the game, he ogled her (and there was no way Anna didn’t notice that), and finally, he panicked and bailed on their conversation. Was it going to be this hard all the time to be around her? To balance his friendship with Sven and Ryder with his attraction to Anna? He decided it would be easier to just not try very hard when he was with her. He’d be nice, but not so nice that it seemed unnatural. It was more important that she felt comfortable rather than liked him specifically.

Even after all that, as he laid in his bed that night, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with her.

[shazos]

Undertale/Deltarune Theory: The Two Angels of The Prophecy

Since I’ve been playing Deltarune as of late, I thought I would share some very compelling details I’ve noticed in game that have been rolling around in my mind lately...

 This is a theory pertaining both Undertale AND Deltarune, because I found connections between both of them interestingly enough. To start my theory off: I will begin with the very prominent theme in Deltarune of religion. There appears to be a strange emphasis on how religious the home town of Deltarune is, with everyone worshipping some deity called “The Angel.”

  It seems to be done in such a manner, that it is building up that the town is worshipping some false God of sorts. The town itself feels very…off. A very ominous vibe to it, especially with the very creepy bunker to the south of town as well.

The question is.. who is this Angel..? To answer this question, we will have to dig deeper. Another notable theme in Deltarune, is that many items found in the Light World—represent places and people in the Dark World. It mirrors it, essentially.

In the light world school closet, the cards on the floor represent the card suite inhabitants/card castle. The plush doll represents Seam, etc. Additionally, the red horns in Kris’s house could symbolically represent Ralsei’s presence, with his little red horns. 

However... even more interesting enough, is that in the town hospital can be found two angel dolls. One— that was made by Kris and Asriel, where they “wasted the whole time making big wings for it.”

 And the other, which was made by Noelle and her friend—looked like a typical angel doll, only “it’s lack of facial features was unsettling.” 

This appears to be clear symbolism for two different characters/angels... but whom? The first one, I believe matches the description of Asriel’s final form in Undertale perfectly: it has a rather disproportionate body, with huge over-sized, magnificent wings. 

Additionally, Asriel’s final form matches up with the Deltarune of Gerson’s prophecy, with each part of his angel body aligning with the runes. Gerson also mentions an Angel in his prophecy, saying that it will free everyone from the underground—which Asriel does at the end of Undertale, with the power of the seven souls. 

Then... who is the second angel, who is symbolically represented in the hospital? An angel we haven’t seen yet, but likely will at the end of Deltarune. Based off the evidence/implications given, I believe it is Gaster. 

To begin, the second angel doll is described with a lack of features that makes it unsettling—which is very reminiscent of Gaster. 

To build upon this, the angel of Undertale—Asriel— plays a focal point in Undertale’s story. He is not shown until the very end of the game, with the true ending, and is very mysterious at first. On top of this, many.. many songs in Undertale have the leitmotifs of Asriel’s theme: HIS theme. 

Meanwhile, Deltarunes soundtrack is heavily focused around Lietmotifs of Gasters theme, with the intro song being called ANOTHER HIM... Another angel, if you will. This implies that he is going to play a heavy role in the story, which is very much seen on the surface level of Deltarune—with the involvement of the “strange knight” as well as the subtext with Jevils backstory, having met a man that made his vision of the world grow “Darker, yet darker” and made him go insane, as told by the tale Seam the shopkeeper tells the protagonist. 

Additionally, the very first castle we see in the game--(not card castle, mind you) has wings on it... much akin to an angel’s, and is spewing a dark fountain forth from it. 

At the end of the chapter of Deltarune, Susie shows clear concern that they did not get rid of the right fountain. One fountain—the original, brought the dark world its life. The other, an unnatural source of darkness to upset the balance. And Ralsei, strangely enough, eagerly directed Kris to get rid of the Card Castle fountain—not the one coming from the Angel’s castle. The Angel’s Castle is also an empty kingdom, with no subjects.. except Ralsei. 

But who is the king? Nobody knows… And a very foreboding music plays in the castle town, adding to the mystery of it. Ralsei, who is quite suspicious enough as it is, (might go into this further in another theory later) will not let Kris inside the castle, stating that Kris must save the world/complete the prophecy first... and then they can come back. Ralsei acts very nervous and distraught when Kris keeps trying to enter the castle, and blocks him from going in. He then shuts Kris out of the kingdom gates, barring him off from going back inside--sinisterly enough. 

Additionally, the plot of Deltarune is based off the prophecy, to “banish the Angels heaven”. This makes the Angel seem like a very malicious figure...but why? What are the Angels motives, and what is the “Angels heaven..?” Well, if you talk to Gerson in Undertale, he says an interesting bit of dialogue that could be interpreted a bit differently with my context/point of view. One could argue that he is talking about “the angel of hyper death”, Asriel, when he says the Angel of death, but I believe it not to be the case. 

Gerson states the following: 

“Lately, the people have been taking a bleaker outlook…callin that winged circle the “Angel of Death”. 

A harbringer of destruction, and waitin to “free” us from this mortal realm…”

This seems like a much more sinister view of the Angel, and not like Asriel. Even though Asriel is very threatening, he is still pure of heart, and ends up saving all of Monsterkind in the end. The second angel however? Wants to “free” every one, and brings destruction in his wake. In Deltarune, we see much destruction and chaos being brought about by a strange “knight”, who appeared one day to take over the card kingdom and beyond, using the Chaos King to help him assert control. 

Seam also mentions that he hasn’t seen this much chaos, since the incident that occurred with Jevil—which implies that the stranger and the strange mysterious knight are one and the same. So, what then is the meaning of “free us from this mortal realm…?”, from Gerson’s prophecy of the second angel? Well, interestingly enough: in Deltarune Jevil mentions this line of dialogue in his boss fight, which lines up perfectly with Gerson’s dark prophecy:

 “I AM INNOCENT, INNOCENT. I JUST WANTED TO PLAY A GAME, GAME. BUT THE BORING KINGS FOUND SUCH FUN TO BE A TROUBLE. AS PUNISHMENT, THEY CRAVED TO IMPRISION MY BODY. THEY LOST THE CHASE, AND LOCKED UP THEIR ENTIRE RACE, BUILDING A PRISON AROUND THE WHOLE WORLD. NOW I’M THE ONLY FREE ONE”. 

This is extremely significant, because Jevil was made aware by the Knight that the world is only a game, and that he can become “free” by ignoring the rules of the game, if you will—to become sentient of the game itself. This matches up perfectly with Gaster: who after being shattered across time and space by falling into his creation, became aware that the world was all just a game. 

So why usurp the Dark World? Presumably, to make everyone aware that it is all just a game: to save them, from being stuck forever without choice. To make them free…done in a very twisted way of course, taking over the kingdom, locking up the rulers and all.

So why do this? After all he was a former scientist of Asgore’s in Undertale. This is where the symbolism comes in, that I noticed. Gaster seems to be a “fallen angel” of sorts. He was driven into madness after “falling” into his creation— after messing with the balance of things. What that is exactly, is unknown at this time. But it is implied that he discovered the presence of timelines, and tried to figure out how to manipulate them. 

This in a sense, was an act against nature/trying to defy god by trying to figure out the interworking’s of the world’s universe. 

Additionally, in Deltarune there is a repeated theme of a “shining light” that guides you—where you save your Soul at. In the bible, the fallen angel Lucifer, who defied God, is likewise represented with a “shining light”. In the files, Gaster is also associated with the number 666—which aligns with the prophecy of him being a dark, fallen angel. 

One could even argue his font/name Wingdings is symbolic, from the wing in the name. It isn’t a stretch to say that Toby got some inspiration from the Bible--he has gotten many inspirations from Undertale from various sources, including Asriel’s symbolism from a Hebrew god/demon named Azrael.

To add unto this theory that links both Asriel and Gaster together as being both angels, is that both were striken by tragedy. Asriel was killed at a very young age, and is forever stuck in an endless purgatory in the body of a flower. Meanwhile, Gaster was forgotten by everyone, including the ones he held closest, and was shattered across time and space. Both characters are implied to have been driven to madness because of this, but with Asriel having a bit more heart/sympathy to him in the very end, (due to having the power of the human Souls to feel compassion again) and freeing all of monsterkind out of a deep care for Frisk.

 Gaster on the other hand…? Seems to be a lot more unforgiving, and much more threatening, seen by his heavily implied actions in Deltarune, taking over kingdoms without mercy, and establishing his power in the Dark World. 

Another notable feature between the two characters, is that they both have black markings on their faces, stretching down from their eyes—(Asriel’s markings are seen during his final boss fight.) What are these? Well…one datamined detail (sourced from the Deltarune reddit) from Deltarune might be the answer to this question.

Both Asriel and Gaster have gone through incredible suffering, so this “pain” could have essentially manifested into the black markings, similar to tears. In the beginning of Deltarune, with the player’s encounter with the narrator/ Gaster, (or at the very least heavily implied...he speaks in the exact same manner) he asks the player what their favorite food is. Two answers, that immediately stand out as strange and bizarre—are pain, and cold—which at first glance is just an off the wall comment/dialogue option, but upon second glance gives us a window into what he has gone through—painful suffering, much like Asriel did, on a plane of existence where they could do nothing. Both characters also have committed horrible actions, due to their fall into madness, (Asriel as Flowey, being stuck in a soulless vessel for ages,) and Gaster, due to existential madness from realizing the entire world is just a game, presumably overthrew an entire kingdom to “free” everyone.

 (Almost forgot--) Additionally, another piece of dialogue which links together the Knight and the Angel being one and the same—is a dialogue seen from the Chaos King/Spade King himself. During the battle with him—he mentions multiple times how he obeys the word of the Knight, and with him he shall make a “new world out of Holy Shadows”, which backs up my theory even more, that the folks of the Light world are worshiping a false idol, a dark angel to destroy them all.

Sound familiar...?

I believe this is made all the more likely with Undertale being a mirror to Deltarune and vice versa—it would make all the more sense that each game would have an Angel character, considering each deals with a prophecy containing the Deltarune. One Angel of Light, and one of Dark.

EDIT: Here are some additional findings that make this come all together even more.

*In Undertale, every zone’s monsters reflect the boss monster of the area. (The monsters in Alphys zone are all anime related. The ones in Undyne’s zone are all muscular/into piano like her, etc...) the only area in the game that doesn’t make sense is Mettaton’s zone in the Core. The mobs don’t suit him at all: except when you realize that he wasn’t meant to be the true boss of the Core in the first place, since Alphys made him. If Gaster hadn’t died/become shattered across time and space, he would have been the likely boss monster of that area. What is notable, is that all of the enemies of the Core are primarily knights, mad, some of them use crosses as attacks, have wings, one of them uses a “Morningstar” as a weapon, (possible reference to Lucifer Morningstar) and you have to defeat some of the monsters by “praying”. Not symbolizing Mettaton at all—but rather Gaster, showing that the foreshadowing seen in Deltarune is indeed likely correct.

*The egg in Deltarune is a possible reference to the tale of Adam and Eve, as it aligns very well. A mysterious figure tempts someone behind a tree with a “fruit of knowledge”. Kris is offered the egg by “him”, presumably Gaster. Taking the egg to the Light-World doesn’t change it like all the other items in the game—it still exists in the Light-World—showing the forbidden knowledge that the world is all just a game. Even though it is a secret/not accessed by usual means, the egg is additionally a key item—that might prove more important by the end of the game.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 30: Explosive Decisions (Trials 45-46)

Word count: 1407

Chapter warnings: Mild language

-----

       "Can we please do a truth challenge this time?" Kyungsoo asked. "It doesn't make sense to keep on risking our lives. If we just do the truth ones, this will be a walk in the park."

       "We completed two challenges in one thanks to the dare, though," Sehun pointed out. "That's faster."

       "And life threatening!" He exclaimed in exasperation.

       "It's fine, we'll try a truth one." Suho said in a monotone voice, nodding to her as if to allow her to go. Well, if anything had improved throughout the course of this event, it was their ability to not spend four hours discussing when to start a trial. Clicking the truth button, the familiar script appeared.

       [Truth] 45: Everyone must name one time in which they lied, causing another player to suffer.

       "Woah, uh," Xiumin laughed awkwardly, trying to bring up the mood. "That's a little heavy. Who wants to go first?" Everyone was silent. Some of them obviously had things on their mind, while other were internally scrambling for answers. Not only that, but no one was sure exactly how serious they were meant to get. It would be a little weird if the calibers of these lies were too different.

       "Um, well," Sehun coughed. "One time I told Chanyeol that his hair looked good, since he asked. It was actually the worst hairstyle I'd ever seen, and I'm pretty sure he got clowned for like, a week." Chanyeol glared over at him.

       "I liked that haircut."

       "My point exactly."

       "Are you sure that wasn't this week?" Chen asked with a snicker, looking over to his shaven head. Chanyeol didn't seem to think it was as funny as everyone else, rolling his eyes.

       "Oh yeah? Well, I lied about having a girlfriend. So when Baekhyun went for her, he got rejected, and he never knew why." Baekhyun's eyes widened.

       "Why wouldn't you tell us?!" Kai asked incredulously. "You? With a girlfriend??"

       "More importantly," Baekhyun huffed, "Why would she pick you over me?"

       "I didn't keep it a secret from everyone," Chen tried to calm them down, "I told Kai and Kris because I needed relationship advice. And it doesn't matter now, because that's... since been over."

       "Oh, about that," Kris laughed, "Since we're exposing lies and all, remember when Kai and I caught her cheating, and you broke up with her?" Chen raised an eyebrow, a little unhappy that he would just release that little bit of information out of nowhere, but he was curious as to what they were going to say.

       "...Yeah?"

       "Yeah, we uh, we just didn't like her, that never happened." The room fell silent. While he had said it in the same lighthearted tone as everyone else, it was sinking in for everyone that it... it was actually kind of really shitty. Kai, obviously, was mortified, having never consented to Kris revealing that detail as well. He'd felt bad about it when it had happened- to be fair, they had caught her talking about him behind his back, but they may have taken things into their own hands.

       "Are you serious?" Chen was obviously infuriated. "You have about five seconds to say you're kidding." Kris very quickly realized his mistake- basically as soon as it had left his mouth.

       "Hey, man, that was like... years ago, it's over."

       "And you never told me?"

       "I mean, I knew you'd be mad-"

       "Of course I'd be fucking mad! You had no right-"

       "It's long gone, though! Plus, it was basically Kai's idea!"

       "Hey-" Kai tried to argue, but Chen was still focused on the one actively fighting with him.

       "Yeah, but who knows what other shady things you're up to now!"

       "Don't be like that, you're acting like a baby-"

       "Who cares? You're acting like a dick!" Chen looked like he was about to physically get up and rip Kris's head off. As thin as Chen was, no one doubted he had the ability. He wasn't physically lacking.

       "Chen, calm down," Y/N muttered under her breath, grabbing his elbow, "We can work it out later. We can't afford to be fighting over silly things right now." Chen looked unsure of what to do, but finally sat down, not before shooting Kris the death glare of his life. Swallowing awkwardly, she indicated for the rest of the circle to go around. The rest were minor things that were annoying, but not devastating. Still, it made everyone realize that they all told a few white lies here and there. While this should have been calming, as it made them all relatable, it honestly just shook everyone's trust a bit. Truth had not been as good of an option as they had originally thought.

       "We're picking dare next." Kris muttered under his breath as they completed the trial, glaring at Kyungsoo. The latter had no complaints. Even if he didn't agree, he wouldn't have said anything. She was fine picking that as well- after all, at least the dares brought them closer together rather than drive them apart. She didn't know how to remedy the situation with Kris and Chen, or how it was going to blow up as soon as he was controlled enough to bring Kai into it as well. It was bound to happen... They'd been friends long enough, they'd come around.

       As she hit dare, though, she nearly immediately regretted her actions. She should have known that they'd get increasingly harder, but she obviously didn't know by what caliber. In that case, would selecting truth also become harder? It didn't matter to her now, though, as she was staring at the new text on the screen.

       "What, what does it say?" Lay asked with concern, having seated himself on the floor, resting his head on his lifted knee.

       "It, uh..." She swallowed, throat suddenly drying up. "We have to defuse a bomb."

       "What?" She wasn't sure who said it- it was definitely several of them.

       "It says that there's an explosive somewhere in the sound equipment, and that we have to find it and keep it from going off!' She commented, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

       "Does it give us a time limit?" Suho asked, glancing around nervously.

       "Uh, no? But I don't really want to be lazy with this one. The limited power is Chen."

       "Probably so he can't short circuit it." Kyungsoo reasoned.

       "Uh, guys?" Sehun called, pulling on the back panel of a speaker to check inside. "Less theorizing, more finding the fucking bomb!" He wasn't wrong, they needed to locate it, and quickly. Thankfully, since they were given the tip that it was hidden within the sound equipment, there were only so many places it could be. This included inside of speakers and soundboards, as well as in hollow instruments, like the drums and guitars. Kai was the one to discover it, hidden underneath the cables of their large, plastic equipment box.

       "Here."He held it up. It was certainly a cliche looking piece of machinery; a dark green box made of some unidentifiable metal. There were several wires connecting different pieces of it, lights blinking with very faint beeps audible from where they were standing.

       "Shit, is this one of those 'cut-the-wire' things?" Xiumin groaned.

       "In movies, it's always the red one." Chanyeol offered.

       "That's definitely not what actual bombs are like." He argued.

       "Well, we don't really have many options here!"

       "So one of your options is dying?!"

       "Fixed it." Baekhyun said. Looking down, Kai saw that the cables were fraying as they dangled from the box, pieces of them dropping to the floor.

       "Baekhyun!" Nearly everyone yelled at him simultaneously.

       "What?" He complained. "Look, it stopped flashing and beeping and stuff!"

       "You could have-"

       "Killed us, yeah, yeah, I heard that the last time." He stuck his tongue out. "These trials suck, and there's no reason to sit around and pretend like we're going to get blown up. We haven't died yet!" She almost wanted to remind them that they had in fact had more than a few deaths, and just because they were able to undo them didn't mean they hadn't happened. "Can we please just move on? Honestly, this is getting a little predictable." He laughed. They didn't know exactly what to say. He had saved them a lot of trouble, but still... He couldn't keep doing this. She looked to Suho, who nodded. It was fine to continue.

Go to Chapter 31

[dailydeathinparadise]

Note: This article is from 2016

Glorious sunshine, a Caribbean island and a never-ending supply of grisly murders.

With nearly eight million loyal viewers Death In Paradise has become one of TV’s biggest dramas - a phenomenon for BBC1. Yet star Danny John-Jules reveals the show nearly never made it onto television at all, after it took nearly five years for a channel to snap it up.

Danny’s convinced the reason for the delay was a very disturbing one.

“Believe me, there were nerves in high places,” reveals actor Danny, who has played one of the show’s leading characters, police officer Dwayne Myers, since the start. 

“Even though the lead was a white guy it was a huge undertaking at the time to have so many black people on screen in a prime-time slot. It took five years of hard-selling to get a TV channel to commit to the show. Death in Paradise was a fine line to walk - a lot of money had to be put into it.”

It’s a big statement to make.

And obviously everyone else’s loss finally became the BBC’s gain. 

But Danny - who also plays Cat in sci-fi sitcom Red Dwarf - says that when it comes to race and entertainment, it’s only too obvious there’s still a problem. He’s a longtime friend of Idris Elba, whose Academy Awards snub for his role in Beasts of No Nation helped trigger the #OscarSoWhite campaign and a huge boycott of the February 28 ceremony. Danny, 55, agrees with the likes of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett that more needs to be done.

“If you put up photographs of who votes for the Oscar nominations you can maybe realise why they reach the decisions they do,” he says.

And he certainly has little time for Broadchurch actress Charlotte Rampling. She blasted the uproar over the lack of diversity in the Oscar nominations was “racist to white people.”

But Danny says: “At the end of the day someone like Charlotte Rampling is only ever going to be judged on her performance. Her race is never going to come into it. Change that to someone like Whoopi Goldberg, who has won an Oscar, and there’s a whole other element, either subconsciously or consciously, that can creep into a judges’ decision making. It follows pretty much across the board in business, it’s not something just based in the arts.”

Of course, things have been different with Death In Paradise.

After finally finding its home at the BBC, it’s remained one of its most successful dramas as people lap up the mix of an lighthearted detective mystery with the beautiful scenery of the Caribbean isle of Guadeloupe.

“Thursday night for millions of people has now become feet up on the reclining sofa, glass of wine and wait for Death in Paradise to begin,” reflects Danny. “I’ve been on telly for 26 years and its very rare you get old West Indian ladies coming up to you in Sainsbury’s approaching you saying ‘Oh, I can’t wait for the next episode! That has been the biggest achievement - the fact the show seems to work for everybody.”

The gruelling six-month long shooting schedule is not quite so idyllic. “You think it’s great being located out in the Caribbean, but there are a lot of casualties of war,” says Danny.

One of them was the show’s original lead star Ben Miller, also of Armstrong And Miller fame, who quit as Detective Inspector Richard Poole at the end of series two. But his replacement, My Family actor Kris Marshall proved an instant hit as lead detective DI Humphrey Goodman.

“It’s a tough gig, and for Ben, with his wife pregnant in the first series, the issue of schools, and the fact he didn’t deal with the heat very well... We had a lot of that. Lots of people not making it through their contracts. Kris Marshall had an absolute mountain to climb when he arrived to take over the role. But he’s done it. And you know what? The ratings went up.”

Danny, who grew up in Paddington, west London, says he has never been one to personally suffer from homesickness or fatigue - mainly because of his early days as a dancer on the variety circuit. “You were on £40 a week and you would be away for six months. I was in a show on the Isle of Wight, three months with Jimmy Tarbuck, three with Dicky Henderson. I saw Dicky the day his mum died. He got up in the morning, got the ferry to London, went to his mum’s funeral, and then was back on stage in the Isle of Wight that same night at 7pm. You look at people like him and you think you can’t just phone in with a bit of a tickle in your throat.”

Danny went on to be a dancer in the West End, including Starlight Express, and performed in Wham!’s The Edge of Heaven video and The Great Muppet Caper, before landing the part in Red Dwarf in 1988.

The show, co-starring Craig Charles and Chris Barrie, ran for 10 series until 1999, before making a highly-anticipated comeback first in 2009 and then properly last year.

The 12th series is due on screens this summer.

But despite being in two huge shows, Danny ensures he’s not away from his family for long - even flying out his fiancee Petula Langlais, and their two children Dante, 10, and Danae, 8, to Guadeloupe for six weeks during the filming of Death in Paradise. He and Petula have been together for 13 years, but have only recently got engaged.

“Most people would have been surprised if I had been with someone for 13 weeks, never mind 13 years,” he laughs. “People were talking actually - especially when I was dressing in PVC and wearing lots of make-up for shows!”

Now however he’s all about family - and Dante is already following in his footsteps as he appears in the programme himself. He was asked to do the guest role after producers saw him in Danny’s self-made short film Bucky - a tragic story of inner-city urban life seen through the eyes of a five year-old boy, co-starring James Bond actor Colin Salmon and EastEnders actress Mona Hammond.

“It was three days of filming, literally 9am to 9pm at night,” he says. “I don’t think I could have asked anyone else’s child to take part. Some of the Death in Paradise producers then saw it - and offered Dante a part.”

Grinning wide, Danny can’t hide his pride. And as he looks forward to his wedding and not one but two big shows on TV, he proves he really is the Cat that got the cream.