#funny how one of her lines has her wishing someone would confide in her regarding matters of the heart

[randomnameless]

More about a certain beast masquerading as a human -

Teaspoon translation hasn't gotten to that point yet, so I'll keep on checking but in her expedition dialogues with Barney, Flayn goes :

Is there something amiss with my face? I like to think my features are of a similar and pleasing proportion.

Traditional reaction from a character who is stared at by the avatar.

In JP though...

わたくしの顔、何か変でしょうか？　目も 鼻も口も、皆さんと同じだと思うのですが

(years of reading naruto raw scans made me recognise 目 lol)

Google'd it goes like this :

Is there something strange about my face? My eyes, nose, and mouth are the same as everyone else's

Sure, you can interpret it as Flayn saying she's like everyone else aka has "similar proportion" to everyone else... but with the context - and giving how Flayn doesn't mention her ears at all! - it's much more interesting that despite being a "creature masquerading as a human", Flayn desperatly wants to be seen (to continue masquerading!!!!) as someone who isn't strange, but we could also infer that she is worried about her nature and appearance : she's not strange, after all, she is pretty similar to a human!

Which leads to the second point :

It makes me very happy indeed to know that you think of me as a friend

わたくしのことを、お友達だと思って くれているなら嬉しいのですが……

It's more or less (according to GT) the same thing, but note Flayn's ellipse, she'd be happy if Barney - out of anyone - would consider her to be a friend. Is she doubtful that it would never happen because she knows Barney has ties to Agarthans? Or she is just afraid that she cannot make friends with humans, because she's not one of them?

That friend thing is developed in her exploration lines :

Ask about their friends.: Do you think the others consider me as one of their friends? 皆さんはわたくしのことを、仲間だと 思ってくれているのでしょうか……？

She feels insecure about how she is perceived by the others, aka the members of the AG cast - even if she joined their ranks and has been fighting with them!

(it almost makes me think of a scenario where she joins a class, then her Leader ask her to stop having power over humans and says she should have been comatose somewhere else instead of wanting to reunite with her family, after organised her abduction and exsanguination, so she leaves that class, but her former classmates - who participated in her rescue mission - can now kill her because they believe she is a monster and a cruel beast without any regard for human life. Her life would suck in that scenario!)

Long story, short story : Flayn wishes to make friends with humans (and even agarthans, if she knows about Barney!) but is still worried that they will shun her, or straight up refuse to befriend her if she is perceived as different (or if her identity is revealed).

I guess both games could have tackled that issue - especially in her supports with two lords - but that would mean ditching your pot of Hresvelg Grey, and we can't have that.

Instead, we have a very fine cup of tea, while Flayn gets reduced screentime by virtue of being associated to Rhea, who is BaD bcs she exists.

[away-ward]

I think if Damon was THE villain until the end, the series would have been better. It would start with him being pissed off "that the guys chose Rika over him" and then at the end, he would have to choose between revenge or his friends. Like imagine if in Killswitch he redeemed himself, and start his relationship with Winter, but in the shadows, he was actually still plotting. No one suspects anything, maybe not even the reader.

It's also really funny that Damon is a textbook incel and in highschool Damon would've been an Andrew Tate stan.

Do you think the guys had specific types when it comes to girls they're attracted to ?

Also, I think you would like Rina Kent's books (If you never read them you should start with the Royal Elite School series)

I think their “type” was the only woman who caught their attention. It’s hard to determine because according to the story, they could get any girl they wanted and every girl wanted them (as is the case with book boyfriend out there), but did they have a preference of girl?

Michael liked blondes, but in any regard they’d have to be Attractive. I don't believe he was concerned with spending any time talking to them, so he didn’t particularly care if they were funny or smart or interesting, just if they could consent. This would exclude girls who got too drunk or couldn’t handle the party. He hated drugs, so no one that got high off of anything stronger than weed. No quiet or weird girls who would be a lot of work. Working for it isn't something he was interested in. He would probably be careful of girls who seemed like they were available, but in actually wanted more from him (like a relationship), but this might have been a lesson he had to learn. I think he would be annoyed if he were lining up a girl and she backed out last second. He’d considered it lost night.

Kai is harder. He liked the private rooms at clubs, showing that he can be just as loose as the other guys, just more private about it. Chloe was an actual girlfriend and not just a repeat hook-up, so even as a teenager, he didn't avoid commitment. He's picky, more with character than appearance, though he has high standards for both. Chole was a leggy blonde, but she was also an overachiever and scholar. It's important the people he spends time with can actually hold a conversation, so they'd have to have a working brain, even if it's just for the night. Kai also enjoys the chase, so he'd prefer a girl that wasn't too available, but made him work for it. Banks might have been different, in this regard, that she toyed with him first.

Damon's type is Winter. The end.

But for real, Damon had warped views when it came to sex and relationships that he needed to get over. For most of high school, it was all about what they could do for him, or what he could do to them, so preference wasn't considered. If there was no ulterior motive on the docket for the night, I think he preferred it when the girl shut up and took everything he gave her, and then hated herself a little for it afterward. As long as it's not Arion and the like, Damon didn't think too hard about getting off with a girl.

Publicly, Will liked the girly-girls in make-up and short skirts. The confident girls who probably got in the middle of the action, who wanted attention on them. Who welcomed his attention. After chasing Emory around all day, he'd probably want someone who didn't take a lot of effort or act put out when he smiled at them. Like Michael, he wasn't interested in a lot of deep conversation, but he was nice and tried to keep the mood up. He didn't care if the girl was smart or had a single brain cell, but I think he preferred a girl who was funny or at least quick witted. Nothing was required for him, though. At the end of the night, he wanted to have a good time with a warm body. Still, when the moment came, he made sure not to disappoint. As Alex said, he put in the work.

Is this what you meant??? Let me know.

I have discussed how I wished Damon’s villain and redemption arc had carried out through to the end of the series, but I’ve never thought about him attempting to betray them a second time. That’s a very interesting idea.

And it’s a really good idea to have him have to choose between his revenge and his friends, if at the end of Nightfall when we think all the guys are on the same side and their inter-personal problems have been resolved so that only their external problems remain, and then Damon pulls off his figurative mask like “Hello! I’m still evil!” That would be funny. But also interesting if after Trevor died, Damon started working with Evans to pull this off, and then he had to make the final decision: does he go with Evans or Michael, or forget the Crists' all together and try to take Thunder Bay for himself?

I don’t know if I would have called him an incel. He seems to have preference for women who are passionate and fight for themselves, instead of ones who are submissive and only follow the orders of a man. He may have acted like that’s what he wanted in high school, but I think he always knew that he hated the demure and submissive girls. It's why he never went after Arion. Maybe my definition is wrong.

And I have tried a few of Rina Kent’s books; started mostly, finished some. But I can’t remember which ones. I want to say the one I finished* is from her newer series, which was the descendants from her earlier two series??? I could also be getting her confused with another author though. Sorry. I’ll see if I can find the chance to list the authors/series I’ve touched base with to satisfy some curiosity. Though, I promise I won’t be able to discuss any of those the way I discuss DN. I just don’t have any thoughts after I close the cover. DN really is an anomaly for me.

Thanks for your patience in me getting back to you! Hope you're having a good day, wherever you are.

*or got close to finishing; with books like these, I usually end up DNFing as soon as the third act breakup starts or whatever it is that’s going to cause them to separate. Unless it’s really interesting. As far as I’m concerned, they’re in love and I’m happy to move on.

[istumpysk]

Regarding the dark Sansa take, the most that antis can come up with is SweetRobin's poisoning.

The funny thing is even if she is doing it, even then Grrm has left it in ambiguity considering how much information she has. There is no concrete evidence in the text itself compared to other characters' darkest acts/thoughts. There is no ambiguity to Tyrion's dark thoughts about raping her sister and even raping the Sunset Girl. He clearly spells it out. There is no ambiguity to Arya's problematic death list. He clearly spells it out. He literally writes a whole chapter dedicated to Daenerys' fall . He spells it out how taking over someone's body is an abomination .

With Sansa even in her internal thoughts, you don't have a line like " He needs to die so I can marry Harry " . Infact we have her wishing that SweetRobin's wife would love her hair and a group of knights would protect him and give him confidence. If I really wanted someone to die , I would never try to enlist people to form some sort of an elite bodyguard gang for them.

The day the text spells it out that Sansa wants to gather power even at the cost of her cousins' death , something like " His death needs to wait. Now is not the right time to have the boy succumb to poison as Father (LF) said. The marriage with Harrold may take some time " , I will completely accept Psycho Dark Sansa and probably would jump the ship to other fandom 😆. Till then I think I have put my money correct on which less problematic character I have to stan.

There is a reason why Grrm called guys like Jaime and Sandor Clegane villains because killing a kid and having no remorse about it is very very problematic and is not something one can just recover from . There is no coming back. There is a reason why Grrm called Arya a psychopath even though I disagree with him . Heck even the 1993 outline which doesn't paint Sansa in the best light, still doesn't classify her as an antagonist or a dark character. On the contrary, it (wrongfully ) accuses her of making bad choices .At the end of the day even AGOT Sansa ( who people try to paint as a villain ) is not that problematic. One can criticize her classism, inability to see things, ableism and guess what even then none of these traits are strong enough to gurantee her as a dark character or a making of a villain. Those are prejudices and something one can learn to recover from . Dark Sansa is a take popularized by LF stans who think both of them are destined together and Arya stans who think Sansa has the same disturbing dark monologue for a child of her age like Arya.

All very well said, anon.

Whenever our little Starklings succumb to their darker impulses, there’s always an underlying temptation of what they want most in life, apart from their family and home.

Why does Bran wear Hodor's skin?

No one wants to hurt you, Hodor, he said silently, to the child-man whose flesh he'd taken. I just want to be strong again for awhile. I'll give it back, the way I always do.

He wants to be strong again. He wants to walk.

Why does Arya incessantly recite a prayer list of people to kill? Why does Arya join the Faceless Men?

Each night before sleep, she murmured her prayer into her pillow. "Ser Gregor," it went. "Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei." She would have whispered the names of the Freys of the Crossing too, if she had known them. One day I'll know, she told herself, and then I'll kill them all.

No whisper was too faint to be heard in the House of Black and White. "Child," said the kindly man one day, "what are those names you whisper of a night?"

…

"They're people I hate. I want them to die."

"We hear many such prayers in this House."

"I know," said Arya. Jaqen H'ghar had granted three of her prayers once. All I had to do was whisper . . .

"Is that why you have come to us?" the kindly man went on. "To learn our arts, so you may kill these men you hate?"

Arya did not know how to answer that. "Maybe."

A broken sense of justice. She wants to avenge her family, end her pain, and fill the void that’s consuming her. 

The problem with dark!Sansa “poisoning” Sweetrobin is that there’s no internal conflict here. Sansa quite clearly does not want Robin to die, and certainly doesn’t want to be Harry’s Lady of the Vale. Where’s the temptation? This isn’t it.

So what does Sansa want above all else?

Sansa wants to love and be loved.

How do you make that dark? How do you tap into a moral dilemma with something as pure as love? How do you create a conflict of the heart?

I have an idea.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part One

Prompt: Unrequited love/the love is requited, they’re just oblivious (Content Challenge Day 5)

Pairing: One-sided ( or is it ;) ) Female Reader x Legolas

Rating: G

Word count: 1847

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

A/n Hello hello, and happy Day 5 of my content challenge! As always, you can find the challenge’s masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. 

I’m making these last three days into a mini-series, so here’s part one! Also, for this story, I’m going with the “girl wakes up in Middle Earth” plot, but LOTR doesn’t exist in her world. So she doesn’t know anything about the characters or their journey. She just kind of fell through a portal between worlds. Y’know?

Translations (I think): Taur-e-Ndaedelos — Mirkwood // Eryn Galen — Greenwood

Reader’s POV

“And Miss Y/n, what will you do once this is all over? Will you go back home?” Pippin stops to let me catch up, bringing me into step with him and Merry.

I purse my lips, not wanting to give too much away. The others know that I have a bit of an, erm—strange— situation, but they don’t know that I haven’t got a home in Arda. We’ve had at least ten variants of this conversation already, and each time, I’ve managed to avoid participating. It seems my hobbit friend, though, is done letting that slide.

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. “I haven’t really thought about that much…” Just in case there’s no ‘once this is all over’. “But I guess I would find a human town somewhere and build a life. I’ve learned quite a lot on this journey, so maybe I could make a living as a guard or even a seamstress, seeing how often I mend your clothes,” at this, I throw a teasing look at Gimli, who blushes. Out of all of us, he’s the most prone to non-battle related injury, and I often find him trudging back to camp with a rip in his sleeve after simple tasks like collecting firewood or refilling his canteen.

Pippin ignores my joke, and now I realize that I have the concern-laden eyes of all four hobbits. “You…would not go back home? You wouldn’t see your family?”

I sigh, avoiding Gandalf’s gaze. He said I was free to tell my companions that I am not of this world, but I haven’t yet worked up the nerve. The stress of figuring out how I got here, why I’m here…it’s too much to burden them with on this perilous quest. I stifle a little laugh, my exhausted mind finding humor in the situation. Maybe that’s what I’ll do ‘once all this is over’. I’ll tell them that I’m practically an alien.  

Lost in my thoughts as I was, my silence drew the attention of Gimli and Boromir, and now I have six sets of concerned eyes regarding me. Great. I try to speed the conversation along so we can get to someone else. “Well, I haven’t seen my family in quite a long time…I think they think I’m dead, actually, and for all I know, they could be too…” This thought troubles me greatly, and I hurry to replace it with something else, forcing my voice to sound cheery and hopeful.“But that only means that I’m free to go anywhere—explore any place I like.”

Pippin looks quite heartbroken at my words, and I scramble to think of ways to fix it. But before I can, he grips my hand tightly in his, and I feel Merry mirror his actions on my other side. They look up at me triumphantly, smiling brightly. “You can come live with us, in The Shire,” Pippin declares, to which Sam nods earnestly. Frodo, as always of late, seems distracted, but offers me a distant smile.

A laugh of shocked joy escapes my lips, and I look between my valiant hobbit friends with possibly even more affection than before. “Do they even allow that? Big Folks moving into The Shire?”

“Sure they do,” Merry brushes away my concerns, appearing quite assured of himself.

But Pippin only shrugs, seemingly having not a care in the world. “And if they don’t, we’ll just sneak you in.”

“Gondor would be happy to host you as well,” Boromir adds, surprising me a little. We haven’t talked much on this journey, so it’s nice to know that he sees me as enough of a friend to invite me to his home.

Feeling much better, I squeeze Merry and Pippin’s hands. “Thanks, you guys. Really.”

{***}

We stop when it gets too dark for most of us to see.

“We are too far from Rivendell’s borders for me to feel comfortable.” Aragorn shakes his head slowly as he considers our surroundings and the potential risk we face. “I would ask that we keep a double watch tonight, and for many nights to come. Y/n, Legolas?”

Legolas—the only one of us who seems to have an endless supply of energy—jogs to a tall rock a couple hundred meters from camp, and begins to climb. I’m a bit slower to follow.

In the past three weeks, Aragorn has put me on watch eight times, the most only after himself and Legolas, and definitely more than our other companions. Sam shoots me an apologetic look and quietly promises to bring us dinner as soon as it’s ready.

I grab my cloak and follow Legolas’ path, trying to keep my annoyance to a minimum. After all, it’s not the worst thing in the world…staying up most of the night with Legolas, just the two of us.

He hears me coming and turns around with a welcoming smile, lowering a hand to help pull me onto the boulder. His hand is so warm in mine, so solid, and I find myself wishing he wouldn’t let go.

But of course he does, taking his hand from mine the moment I’m settled next to him. I tuck my hands into my cloak, trying not to lament the loss. Regardless of my quickly-growing feelings towards my elven friend, he has never given me an indication that he sees me as anything more than that, a friend, and I need to respect that.

He fixes me with a raised eyebrow, somehow both looking at me and the landscape over my shoulder. “Are you alright with staying awake tonight? It has been a while since you slept fully.”

I freeze, caught in a sudden burst of happiness. He noticed that? Has he been paying attention to me?

Legolas continues, and the fledgling hope that perhaps my affections for him aren’t as one-sided as I thought comes crashing down. “I could speak to Aragorn. It is no issue for me to stand watch alone.”

I briefly close my eyes, berating myself for my stupidity. He’s not commenting on your well-being, he just doesn’t want to have to be alone with you for the next five hours. He must somehow know of your feelings and wants to discourage them — because really, why would an elf want to be with a human?

I purse my lips, desperately not wanting him to know I’m upset. “No, it’s okay, thank you though. I’ll do my part.” My words come out a bit more cooly than I intended, but that’s just as well. Best to seem unattached.

He nods, giving me a funny look, then turns to look back out on the vast expanse of trees.

Nearly an hour passes in silence, then Sam visits, bringing dinner with him. Aragorn had managed to find two rabbits, so we eat well tonight. I savor it, knowing we might not be so lucky tomorrow, or the day after next. As usual, Legolas chooses to eat standing, not willing to sacrifice his careful watch over our surroundings. Knowing he’s got it covered, I sit down on the rock with Sam, having a make-shift picnic. Still, I keep my daggers close and periodically take note of the sounds of the forest, just in case. Sam entertains us with stories from his childhood and of life in The Shire. At a tale of how he and Frodo found themselves running from a furious farmer in the middle of the night, even Legolas cracks a smile.

But eventually, the food is gone and Sam is stifling yawns, so he bids us goodnight, leaving me alone with Legolas once again.

I stand, brushing the dust off my leggings, and take my place next to him.

His eyes never leave the horizon, but I hear his voice, soft, quiet, and almost hesitant-sounding. “Is it true that you haven’t a home to return to?”

I’m a bit caught off guard. During that conversation earlier in the day, Legolas was all the way at the front the group, leading with Aragorn. I didn’t know he’d heard that. “Uh, yeah.” I nod, trying to project a confidence I don’t really feel. “It is.”

He goes silent, and stays silent for such a long time that I think that’s all the conversation we’ll have. But then, he speaks again, his voice steady and deliberate. “My home, Taur-e-Ndaedelos, is not safe right now.”

“Oh.” I blink. Is he opening up to me? I try to respond delicately, not wanting to accidentally discourage him from sharing his feelings in the future. “I am sorry. That must be very difficult.”

He waves off my apology, meeting my eyes for the quickest of moments and then turning once more to the landscape before us. “My people get by. I only meant that, perhaps…well, if we succeed, and the Great Evil is defeated, Taur-e-Ndaedelos will be safe, and might even be called Eryn Galen once more.” He shifts from one foot to the other, something I’ve never seen him do. “You would be welcome there.”

A smile—the widest one I’ve managed in a while—spreads over my face, and try as I might, I am unable to reel it in. Because even after all this is over, when the time would come naturally for us to part ways, he wants me still in his life. I’ve always figured that it would hurt me to be parted from him, but I never dreamed that he would feel the same way.

Legolas seems to grow agitated by my silence, and turns to look at me with a measure of stress in his brow. But once he sees my reaction to his words, the lines in his face soften into a grin of his own. “Gimli is similarly without a permanent dwelling. I have extended an invitation to him as well.”

Oh.

Of course.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at myself, feeling incredibly stupid. Of course I would read into his words. He didn’t mean anything significant by them, he was just offering me a place to stay, like he obviously would to any of his friends. Because he is a kind, good, and noble ellon.

Of course he doesn’t feel the same way as I do.

I was silly to hope.

I try to keep the smile plastered to my face and not let him see my crushing disappointment. That would be horribly embarrassing, and I’m not sure I could take the pity that would surely be on his compassionate face if he had to verbally express his disinterest.

“That—” my voice sounds annoyingly weak, and I clear my throat to correct it. “That’s really kind of you, Legolas. Thank you.”

There’s a question in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask it, only nods once and returns to his watch of the forest.

For my part, I try to turn all of my focus to the task at hand, reminding myself that, even if he never loves me back, I am truly lucky to have such a wonderful friend.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part two! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Also, let me know if you would like a tag.

Masterlist

Next part

[littlenahsstuff]

In love, I swear.

A/n Literally my first time writing actual fanfiction. This might be a flaming dumpster fire idk. I will persevere and cringe later, but for now, enjoy.

supreme!Cordelia Goode x reader

TW:nothing much, just a big old fluffernutter sandwich. A little angst. Swears I guess.

Synopsis: Cordelia has just recruited you to be a counselor at Robicheauxs and it's safe to say you are head over heels for the supreme. Unfortunately, you aren't the one to tell her.

You always thought that you weren't too special of a witch, you had the basic witchy spells down and specialized in the people who struggled on the inside... but in a more witchy sense. You also helped the witches who needed to get their powers more developed or who ones that are just behind in school. A sort of glorified counselor you suppose. It's sorta funny, especially since you aren't the most confident, how you can talk to all of the girls. When it boils down to it you are just a witchy gal searching for love. Specifically Cordelia's. It could never happen though.

Your love life wasn't the only area you lacked in before Robicheauxs, you had been struggling to find a job suited for your interests. Let's just say that you have a lifetime ban from one of the Mcdonalds in Louisiana. Fire and grease doesn't mix.

Of course, if it wasn't for dear, sweet, precious, Cordelia, you would be living on the streets. Luckily that didnt happen and so here you are today, three months in to your teaching position at Robicheauxs.

Oh, the moment, "You're hired. I look forward to expanding the academy's family and getting to know you better especially," left the Supremes lips, the better off you were.

And yet, even with all of the joy that comes with finally getting paid, there were the challenges as well. For starters, everyone was extremely nice to you, even though you kept mostly to yourself, there was this one person that made this heaven more hellish. Madison the bitch witch Montgomery.

You had been warned by Zoe, your closest confidante in this new place and also Madisons freaking girlfriend, that she was no pleasant peach. Never in all of your doubtful thoughts, had how bad it actually was crossed your mind. It was never the cockiness that got to you, you had a different appreciation for it than most. Found the confidence refreshing almost. No, no no no no. It was in fact, that she was constantly trying to dig up dirt on you.

"You're too much of a goody two shoes y/n," she once stated with a glare. The same day you had heard Zoe squabbling about something and your name came up. Your name and the fact Madison had stolen your wallet to look at your license. It turned up later on your bed stand.

Madison's a lover of Zoe and drama you've come to find out.

It's harmless though really, you dont mind the extra bit of attention that comes with it. Its flattering so no need to complain to anybody, especially not Cordelia.

Cordelia, mmm, yeah now shes the biggest threat here. She is the reason you got this job and might be the reason you lose it.

She once caught you with your doodle journal. It was a harmless question,

"Y/n, what're you drawing?" She looked over your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin and your sketchbook went flying.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" She worried her lips a bit. Her big, plump, kissable lips. Come on Y/n, get out of it.

"Yes," you squeaked. Sinking farther into the sofa. She chuckled her beautiful chuckle and sat on the couch arm.

"So, what was my favorite school counselor drawing just then?" She questioned. Glancing to the thrown book.

Your face went red.

"Uh-" you paused, come on you're making it a bigger deal than it has to be, "you." You couldn't look into her eyes.

She gazed at you at you and it felt like a hole was being burned into your skull.

"Okay," Cordelia said, leaving it at that. Stood up and made to walk away.

"Wait!" She paused and turned back to you, seeing you scramble to get your sketchbook.

"Yes?" Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I- don't you want to see it?" You said and you slapped yourself mentally for about the hundredth time she walked in.

She smiled softly at you, "Of course, I thought you didn't. You looked scared to death, like bambi."

"Okay," you flipped back towards the page and cringed. It wasn't your best peice. You could never capture her beauty right.

Her eyes scanned over it, widening before squinting with her grin.

"It's so good!" She gasped.

"Yes, that is Cordelia Goode," you joked in a monotone manner. She slapped your shoulder jokingly, making you snort.

"You nerd, I didn't mean it that way. Either way, you did a fantastic job! I wished I looked as good as you make me seem," she muttered the last bit, bit you heard it. It saddens you to remember the damage Fiona did.

"Hey, Cordy," you started. You realized that you used a nickname that Madison did, but she doesn't seem to care.

"You know what I think? I think that you're wrong. You see I just can't for the life of me get your soft proud loving smile right. Your eyes aren't as warm and glowing as they are in reality. I couldn't manage to picture the right placement for those worry lines or crowd feet you have. You might not like them, but to me they show that you worry and care and that you laugh at the stupidest of things, which is a trait I adore. You are more perfect than any Davinci or Van Gogh," you say. You don't like when your friends feel bad about themselves.

Cordelia's tearing up a bit and wiles it away. "Didn't know you were a goddamn poet too?" She joked with a giggle, "thanks y/n, sometimes I need to hear something like that."

"No problem Cordelia," I can't help it, you're my muse, is what you want to say.

"Well, I have some paperwork, but it was nice to see ya," she hurriedly excused and rushed out.

Unbeknownst to you, Madison was watching. She knew exactly how to get dirt on you now. She had something all along.

The next week you spent daydreaming about Cordy...elia, you couldnt help but go back to that conversation. You needed to be more discrete, way more descrete.

So you made sure to draw your crush no more. That didn't change the fact you forgot to destroy the evidence in writing.

You had slept in a little too late, so in a rush you were to get to your office. The reason you had being you daydreaming about Cordelia and yours faux life together a little too long.

A bunch of new juicy stuff for Madison as she snatched it from your bedside table. It was too easy really.

She opened it up to the first page. It acted like a normal diary, just stating checklists of things to do and things you did. The size was fairly large, so skipping a few pages till she got to the juicy stuff and the part where you actually did know Cordy wasn't harmful.

It was a barf fest of emotion. "Oh Cordelia is so awesome, oh I'm so lucky to work with Cordelia, oh my, I won't ever get a chance with Cordelia, she's the supreme!"

"Ew," Madison groaned, whipping out her phone.

Then she found it, the goldmine of confessions. It was all the way in the back, meaning you had wrote it recently.

"Dear, myself

Cordelia today caught me drawing a picture of herself and said something I didn't particularly enjoy listening about herself. I can't believe Fiona would send her into such a deep hatred of herself that even with her gone she's hurting. She's no mother. Cordelia is the love of my life, even if I'm not hers, she deserves all the love I can give. She's not broken, but she just needs someone to love her and I do. I promise to give her as much love as possible without her finding out what kind it really is, I'm in love, I swear.

Sincerely, Y/N."

So she snapped a picture of the page.

After school was over Cordelia was not expecting Madison to barge into her office. Let alone with something regarding YOU of all people.

"Cordy, I've got something to tell you about y/n!" Madison sang out, waving her phone in front of Cordelia's face as she sat on top her desk.

Madison was just careless with others and too carried g about herself. It was the perfect storm. The only person who could ever take it too far to just prove a point. That there was something wrong with you.

If Madison Montgomery had taken one moment to actually think about it, she was just jealous. Jealous that another person at the coven was better than her to Cordelia. She was one spoiled bitch growing up. Guess it backfired.

"What?" Cordelia questioned in concern, "Is she okay? Madison what did you do to her!?" Her thoughts raced, Madison's pranks often went a little too far. She did kill Misty.

"Now now Cordy, don't get your panties in a twist. Here read this," Madison demanded to her supreme, she shoved it into her face and Cordelia grabbed it.

Her eyes expected headlines on the news or a mugshot, but she realized it was just your writing.

"Madison," she warned.

"Come on, I know you can read!" Madison poked Cordelia's forehead, prompting a slap from the Supreme.

Ms. Goode exhaled, "Fine."

Her eyes fluttered over the words, brows furrowing with every sentence. She couldn't comprehend, could she read?? It seemed to her as if her brain was creating what she wanted to see, but no, you wrote it. Unfortunately.

Everything's silent. Then the thought flits across her head, you like her back.

"In love, I swear."

Oh she's mad. Not at you, no, she could never. Madison on the other hand better,

"Get out of my office right now," Cordelia whispered. Madison's smile faltered.

"What, didn't you want to know your feelings are reciprocated? Come on, I'm just trying to get you two to speed up the process." Madison hopped of the desk and sauntered out.

What has she done.

Cordelia was wracked with guilt for awhile, with no way to tell you either. How does one even go about telling someone they read their deepest darkest secrets. How!?

She couldn't, so she did what she could. She pulled away from you and into her work. All of those lunches spent together stopped. The nights in the green house gone. Reading together on the weekends by the fire, gone.

And it left you empty. You had no idea what you did, but you must've done something.

So you decided to confront her, you hadn't gone much sleep since, so you were literally and figuratively tired of all of this shit.

Your knock on the door startled Cordelia, but your presence startled her even more. Both of you looked like wrecks.

"Oh, Y/n! Please, come in," Cordelia gestured and you did, closing the door behind you.

It was then that you finally broke down.

"What did I do Delia!?" You sobbed, falling to your knees. Yes it was dramatic and not even you expected it but you were holding your emotions for so long.

"Oh," Cordelia briskly moved over to you, concern painted on her face. She was watching you carefully, you looked so fragile. Just like she had felt at times.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, "What did I do?" Her hand tilted your head towards her, but you still couldn't look into her brown eyes, opting for the floor. If you did, you probably wouldn't be able to look away.

"Y/n look at me sweetie," the nicknames never failed to make your heart soar. It was your weakness, your eyes met and they were glued there.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing nothing!" She took a deep breath, "I saw a page from your journal."

You froze, terror crept up your spine.

"Oh my god. Um Cordelia I am so sorry, you, wow I- god I'm so creepy! It's perfectly fine if you want to not be my friend or fire me. I didn't do it to be weird, it was how I expressed myself. I was trying to hide it I promise, i dont even know what happened!?"

"I'm gonna kill Madison, faster than my mother did," Cordelia groaned.

"Wh-" your brain malfunctions. Is-Is Cordelia kissing you? Right now?

Indeed she was and just like you dreamed about, her lips were so soft and her kiss gentle.

Maybe Madison could be forgiven... but not without a harsh talk.

"In love, I swear," she repeated in a whisper against your lips.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

do you think zuko treated mai fairly? i mean... why didn't he trust her to tell her his deepest thoughts when he abandoned her in the fire nation? i know he loved her but i don't understand why he didn't just tell her instead of hurting her unnecessarily. they're cute but i find it so hard to get past this, i would be so hurt if my bf didn't tell me something so important. and then mai just. forgives zuko so easily even after he locked her in a cell still not trusting her. mai deserves better :(

It’s kind of funny you ask this, because I lowkey have a lot of feelings about the phrase “x deserved better than y”. For one, I’m always cautious around it, because in the A:TLA fandom I’ve seen it thrown around in two main ways:

“Katara deserved better than Aang!” followed by the most ridiculous slander labelling Aang as abusive, toxic, manipulative, etc. (Funnily enough, though, a lot of those people will also go and ship T.aang. Like T.aang is an Excellent ship, do not get me wrong, but it’s clear they just say ‘Katara deserved better’ because they hate K.ataang and don’t necessarily care one way or the other about Aang.)

“Zuko deserved better than Mai!” followed by the most obnoxious bullshit also labelling Mai as abusive, toxic, manipulative, etc. and even - I kid you not - saying she’s “too ugly” for Zuko. At worst, racist; at best, shallow. (And again, funnily enough, a lot of them will then ship M.ailee, again proving they don’t really care one way or another about Mai, they just hate M.aiko.)

Now, I’m not getting into the K.ataang vs Z.utara vs M.aiko ship wars, lmao, but those are the two primary ways that rhetoric is used. It’s kind of embarrassing, tbh, how fandom tends to use the phrase to discredit pairings and demonize characters instead of… you know. Moving on with their lives, lol.

But your ask fascinates me, anon, because you bring up the point of Zuko not trusting Mai, thus leading to the conclusion of “Mai deserves better than Zuko.” Which is interesting, because as I just mentioned, for most people who follow the “x deserves better than y” phrase, it tends to be used the other way around!

Firstly, however, I want to say that you don’t have to ship Maiko. You can read my explanation and walk away still feeling exactly the same way about Mai and Zuko’s relationship (love it, hate it, indifferent to it, all that jazz), and that’s totally okay! But I’m going to do my best to explain what’s off with the rhetoric of “x deserves better than y,” specifically regarding Maiko. My thesis, as it were?

It’s not about “deserve.”

Disclaimer: This obviously does not refer to genuinely unhealthy/abusive relationships. I shouldn’t have to say that, but we all know how Tumblr is. I digress.

Love isn’t about “deserve.” At first glance, that’s kind of a confusing take, isn’t it? Don’t we all “deserve” someone who will respect us, appreciate us, and treat us well? Of course we do! But those are just qualities of any healthy relationship. When I say that love isn’t about “deserve,” I mean that love can’t be simplified quite so easily. Here is a definition of “deserve”:

“do something or have or show qualities worthy of (reward or punishment)”

How do we make ourselves “worthy” of love? I (an optimist) don’t think we do. Love isn’t about worthiness; I believe we are all “worthy” of love simply by existing. Instead, I argue that love is about openness. It’s not about if we “deserve” love or not, but rather if we allow ourselves to be open to it.

All of this is to say that it’s not about whether or not Mai “deserves” or “deserves better than” Zuko; it’s that she is open to receive love from him, and he from her. She wants to love and be loved by Zuko. No one else. She says it to Azula herself: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.” Mai chooses Zuko, full stop, just as Zuko chose her by a) doing everything in his power to keep her out of his betrayal of the Fire Nation (why would he risk putting a death sentence on her head, too?) and b) reuniting with her happily at the end of the show (i.e. he didn’t brush her off; he smiles his widest smile in the entire show during that scene!). So it’s not about “deserve.” It’s about these two kids loving and finding love in one another. A Shakespeare quote is particularly relevant here:

“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.” (Twelfth Night – Act 3, Scene 1)

We are all looking for love, be it romantic or platonic or anything in-between, and there is no better feeling than we receive love even when we feel we don’t “deserve” it. Mai is willing to work with Zuko to make their relationship work despite his mistakes, because it’s not about if he “deserves” her, but because she knows he is willing to grow and improve (and she is, too).

Also, within the series of A:TLA (specifically towards the middle-end of Book 3), it can be concluded that Zuko believes that he is no longer “worthy” of Mai’s love. That he doesn’t “deserve” her love because of how he abandoned her (and she is the only thing about the Fire Nation he regrets leaving behind). Mai disagrees with him. She is open to a relationship with Zuko because she loves him for an infinite number of reasons (one being that he does what is right, including going against the Fire Nation, even if she did not at first understand). When Zuko realizes this by the time the finale comes around, they reconcile in a tender embrace.

And what reason are we ever given to doubt Mai regarding whether or not she “deserves” better than Zuko? Mai is perfectly aware of her own worth. She breaks up with Zuko in “The Beach” because his behavior is inexcusable and she knows that she doesn’t have to put up with it. Even in the comics, which are handled poorly, I don’t entirely hate the Maiko breakup because again, Mai knows that she does not have to be responsible for Zuko’s well-being. She loves him, she loves him so much, and she tries to help him, but she is not his therapist. So again, why should we doubt Mai? Going back to the A:TLA finale - Mai knows what she “deserves” and what she doesn’t. She knows what she will and what she won’t put up with. And after everything, she is still open to a relationship with Zuko. Because love isn’t about “deserve,” and it never has been.

To address your other questions:

why didn’t he trust her to tell her his deepest thoughts when he abandoned her in the fire nation? i know he loved her but i don’t understand why he didn’t just tell her instead of hurting her unnecessarily.

You almost answer your question yourself, anon. “[H]is deepest thoughts”? Who tells anyone their “deepest thoughts”? We actually talked about this in my Shakespeare class (I know, right? lmao). A very common trope in Shakespeare’s tragedies is a lack of communication. We all read Romeo and Juliet and Othello and were like “dude, if they had just talked to each other, none of those bad things would have happened!!” (and thus those tragedies might have been comedies).

My professor agreed with us. Then he asked, well, why do you think Shakespeare doesn’t have anyone communicate?

One brave soul said, “That’d be too easy.”

Which is… almost right. Perhaps, narratively, it would be too easy. The plays would definitely be resolved much faster. But the truth? It’s too hard. People don’t communicate clearly in real life. They hide certain things because they’re embarrassed, they’re ashamed, they’re afraid. Even couples who’ve been together for years will admit that they don’t tell each other everything, for whatever reason. People are imperfect, and thus their relationships are, too.

(Slightly amusing sidebar: Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are actually an example of a perfect couple, because Macbeth confides everything to Lady Macbeth in Act 1. And, well, we all know how that went down[hill], lmao.)

So why didn’t Zuko tell Mai the truth when he was leaving the Fire Nation? He was afraid! He says it himself in “The Boiling Rock”: “Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I’m a traitor. I couldn’t drag her into it.” Zuko is afraid of what might happen to Mai! He knows the Fire Nation now has a price on his head - why would he wish that on Mai? It’s bad enough that she’s the (former) girlfriend of a traitor! How much worse might it have been for her if she’d been associated with him after he’d threatened the Fire Lord’s life*? I’m not saying this to excuse Zuko’s decision, because perhaps Mai would have agreed to join him (although we cannot conclude this with total certainty), and I certainly think breaking up by text letter was a pretty crappy way to go about it, but all the same, he was trying to protect her. When Mai realizes this, what does she do?

Saves his ass from Azula and utters one of the most iconic lines in the entire series.

*Also, a kind of interesting parallel presents itself between Zuko and Hamlet here, lmao. One interpretation of Hamlet’s “get thee to a nunnery!” scene with Ophelia is reading it as him trying to cut ties with her in the cruelest way possible so she wouldn’t try to follow him and possibly get hurt as he killed Claudius (aka regicide, the highest crime in Denmark). While it’s arguable that Zuko isn’t quite so perceptive, lmao, there is the possibility that Zuko thought breaking up with Mai in such a callous way would help prevent her from remaining attached to him and thus getting mixed up in his mess (killing the Fire Lord, aka the A:TLA equivalent of regicide, the highest crime in the Fire Nation). Just something to ponder!

and then mai just. forgives zuko so easily even after he locked her in a cell still not trusting her.

I don’t know if I’d call her forgiveness “easy.” Making the decision to betray Azula? That’s hard. Mai was signing herself up for a death sentence, because Azula doesn’t take prisoners (Aang can testify to this, lmao). If Ty Lee hadn’t been there, Mai almost certainly would have died. So yeah. I wouldn’t call her forgiveness “easy,” anon. I think it’s one of the scariest choices she ever made.

Of course, one can argue that Mai’s true forgiveness of Zuko actually came later, which I don’t necessarily disagree with. I think Mai’s initial instinct was to trust Zuko because she knows him better than perhaps anyone (thus she realizes he wouldn’t walk away from the Fire Nation without true cause), hence her betrayal of Azula. When she survived because of Ty Lee’s chi-blocking (since honestly, Mai probably didn’t think she’d get that far) and was ultimately imprisoned, I bet she had plenty of time to think about Zuko and her relationship with him. Working on that presumption, again, I don’t think I’d call her forgiveness “easy,” because she likely took several days if not weeks to process everything.

Also, you say Zuko doesn’t trust her because a) he didn’t inform her of what he was doing when he left the Fire Nation and b) he locked her in a cell at the Boiling Rock. I understand that perspective, but again, I go back to this line: “Everyone in the Fire Nation thinks I’m a traitor. I couldn’t drag her into it.” Does that sound like someone who doesn’t trust Mai? I think the better description is that Zuko feared for Mai, as I mentioned earlier. Did he lock her in a cell because he thought she’d betray him, or because he thought it was the last thing he could do to protect her when everything went to shit as he, Sokka, Suki, and etc. were all escaping from prison? Could it have been a little bit of both? We can’t say for sure, of course, but given how happy Zuko was around Mai in “Nightmares and Daydreams,” I think his love for her ultimately outweighed his worries about Mai’s ties to Azula, which leads me to conclude his locking her in a cell was less about distrust and more a final, last-ditch attempt at keeping her out of his mess.

Plus, Zuko has issues. Mai knows this. She loves him all the same for it. As I said earlier, she is open to giving love to and receiving love from Zuko. I think it’s a bit of a discredit to Mai’s character to assume she forgave him easily. And besides! She told him herself: “But don’t ever break up with me again.” Mai implicitly tells him hey, don’t pull that BS again, and Zuko gives her an embarrassed smile before they hold each other in a gentle, loving embrace. It’s not a direct statement, and maybe that puts some people off from it, but Mai is firmly implying that she wants him to trust her more, and Zuko acknowledges this (and he’s rightfully a little embarrassed that he kept her out of it, since hindsight is 20/20 and he now understands she probably would have gone with him; do remember, of course, that he had no way of knowing that initially).

do you think zuko treated mai fairly?

Well, how do we define “fairly”? I guess the short answer is no, he didn’t, but what other choice did he believe he had at the time? Answer: none. It was either keep Mai out of it and guarantee her safety or drag Mai into it (which Zuko likely saw as a selfish option, i.e. what right did he have to pull his girlfriend into treason just because he didn’t want to lose her company?) and risk losing her. As viewers, we know there’s more to the situation than that, but Zuko doesn’t have our luxury. So his decision to keep Mai out of it and thus try to protect her? I would call that a “fair” assessment, yes.

And besides, anon:

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream - Act 1, Scene 1)

Mai and Zuko chose each other. Who are we to deny them their happiness?

[liron-ao3]

Happy reading

Human AU Malec & Destiel Oneshot

Dean lets his eyes run over the spines of the library books in front of him. He knows that he has likely read all the historical novels in their small town library at this point, but it doesn't harm to check for new arrivals.

He spots a cover he hasn't seen before, well placed on a small tablet stand—a new accession. Awesome. He reaches out to get it, but before he can grab it, a large hand with black nail polish beats him to it, and Dean curses inwardly.

The other man follows the hand invading his view and scrutinises Dean with black-rimmed eyes. "Sorry. Were you interested in this one?"

Dean needs a moment to take the man fully in. He is a work of art from the black cowboy boots right up to the blue-tinted tips of his spiked up hair. Dean has to clear his throat. He's never seen anyone like him in their little town. He's probably from the new settlement up the hill. Many New Yorkers moved here, much to the villagers' dismay.

Mr Perfect-Style raises a questioning eyebrow, and Dean realises that he hasn't answered for too long. "Um, yeah. It's from my favourite author, and I haven't read it yet."

The other man smiles. "Same."

Dean likes the other man's voice. And his confident posture. And his taste in books. Dammit! He hasn't looked at a man for years now. Hook-ups with women are safer. But he's settled now, and Dean is pretty confident that the man gives off queer vibes with all the makeup and shiny clothes.

Dean feels courageous today and decides to check his hunch. He leans against the bookshelf and puts on his most winsome smile. "What do I have to do for you to give me way with this book? I'm a fast reader."

Two sentences without stammering. This must be Dean's new record regarding gay flirting. He's nearly proud of himself.

The other man raises the single eyebrow even higher, eyes sparkling with mirth. He gives Dean a once-over, and his lips pull into a wide grin. "I'm not sure if I should hit that," he says, and Dean freaking blushes, the smirk gliding off his face instantly.

Suffering a rebuff is bad enough. But he never hit a wall so quickly before he could even reveal all his charm. Not with women though, so...

He straightens himself and nods. "Gonna make a reservation then," he says and turns around, leaving the library without new reading fodder.

***

"Here, Mr Winchester. Happy reading," the librarian says.

Dean smiles at her as he takes the book after she scanned it together with his library card. "I'm lucky that it was returned so quickly. Two days. That's impressive."

"Maybe the other reader didn't enjoy it," she supplies with a shrug. Dean doubts that very much. He nods nonetheless. He's still a little miffed. Usually, he's so smooth when it comes to flirting with the ladies, but men still give him a headache. All those contradicting signals.

He walks out to the bus stop, and when he finds a seat in the last row, he opens the book, unable to wait a minute longer now that he has it in his hands. At the beginning of the first chapter, he finds a scrap of paper. No. It's handmade paper adorned with beautiful handwriting. Dean furrows his brow. And reads the short note.

Sorry if I was too harsh on you on Tuesday. I would like to atone. Do you have plans for the spring fair?

Dean stares at the delicate letters and numbers, then he lets out a snort and pushes the paper into the pocket of his jacket.

***

"A date would do you good," Alec says and pushes a bottle of ice-cold beer into Dean's hand. "Is he good-looking?"

Dean snorts. "Not my usual type."

"Your usual type is women. You haven't been with a single man since you came out."

Dean shrugs. "Men are intimidating as fuck." Alec snorts at that. "You have no right to make fun of me. How many men exactly did you date in the last two years?"

"That's different. I don't need a man," Alec says and slumps on the other side of the sofa.

"And I do?"

Alec scans him from head to toe. "Most definitely." Dean huffs a laugh and doesn't dignify him with an answer. "What do you have to lose? We wanted to go to the fair anyway. Ask him if he has a nice, good-looking buddy who's interested in men, and we're going on a double date."

Dean laughs out loud. "Just a second ago, you said you don't need a man."

"I don't need a partner. But a nice flirt? Why not?" Alec shrugs.

Dean shakes his head. "I won't go out with that guy just to get you laid."

Alec rolls his eyes. "Come on, man. Maybe he knows where the hot, secretly gay people are hiding in this town."

"They are assembled in this room, Alec." Dean takes a swig of his beer and shakes his head. "Wouldn't it be easier to simply be fuck buddies?"

Alec screws up his face in disgust. "You're like my brother. Don't even—urgh."

Dean giggles and plops into the sofa cushions. "Okay. I'll text him."

***

"You owe me. Big time," Castiel grumbles. "I don't care that we've been friends since kindergarten. If my date is a stupid meathead, I'm killing you."

Magnus chuckles. "Now and then, a meathead is exactly what one needs, Castiel. It's not always about finding your one true love. You know that I'm a romantic by heart, but sometimes you just need a good, mmpf," he says as Castiel covers his mouth with his hand.

He pierces Magnus with his eyes. "I know you are a bit of a lothario, but not everyone needs that to be happy." He pulls his hand away and looks at it in disgust before he cleans the lipgloss away with a handkerchief that he pulls out of his trenchcoat.

"Sorry, darling. I should've known better than to say that. But I'm sure he'll be nice." He looks at his watch. "They must be here any second. Oh, there." Magnus waves wildly at two approaching men and shouts Dean's name.

"Which one is supposed to be mine?" Castiel grunts.

"The one with the neck tattoo," Magnus smirks.

"Of course it's him," Castiel says and rolls his eyes.

***

"So, you're afraid of heights," Castiel asks Dean, who eyes Magnus and Alec in the line for the Ferris wheel.

"Yeah. Since childhood. And you?"

"I kind of fell from the sky once. Don't need a repetition of this experience."

Dean chuckles. "I can imagine. So, you and Magnus, you never…?"

Castiel looks at him in disgust. "Oh no. He's way too sexual for my taste." His eyes widen when he realises what he just said. "I mean, I love him, and he is a great guy. Smart, funny. Stylish, I guess." He squirms under Dean's piercing gaze.

"I wouldn't have expected someone like you when he promised his best-looking friend," Dean says, grinning from ear to ear.

Castiel snorts. "That's because Ragnor is on the other side of the pond, and all his other male friends are straight or heteroromantic."

"What?"

"They are asexual but like women romantically."

Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn't comment on it. Who wants to look like a complete idiot in front of a handsome guy like Castiel? Not that Dean would look at him that way. He's on a date with Magnus, after all. Magnus, who smiles at Alec in a way that Dean wasn't graced with until now.

Dean pulls his gaze from the two other men and turns to Castiel. "So, you're a professor? Of what exactly?"

"Church history." Great change of topic, Winchester. "Are you a martial arts instructor like Alec?"

"No," Dean chuckles. "I train in my spare time, but I'm a car mechanic and teach the next generation."

It's the first time that Castiel's frown smooths out this evening and a tender smile plays on his lips. "Teaching is such a great vocation, don't you agree?"

Dean thinks of his trainees and nods. "It's pretty rewarding, yeah." Dean can't take his eyes off Castiel's beautiful lips. Alec will kill him.

***

"Oh, you must go to the London Eye, should you ever be there. It's magnificent."

Alec chuckles. "I will remember that the next time I portal over."

Magnus hits his arm playfully. "I'm just so happy to finally be on a Ferris Wheel again. Castiel is such a—no, that would be mean to say. He has his reasons."

"I like people who don't feel the need to belittle others," Alec says, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"I think everyone has an intrinsic value. No matter their strengths or weaknesses." Alec smiles at him. Magnus quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Alec smirks. "You're just really beautiful." Magnus' lips part in surprise. The sight is very distracting. "Sorry. I guess that was inappropriate. You're Dean's date after all."

Magnus looks down at his date standing suspiciously close to his friend, who usually hates it when people do that. "I don't have the feeling he's truly interested in me. Are you sure he's gay?"

Alec laughs out loud. "He's a disaster bi. Can get every woman he wants, but let a man flirt with him and he switches into panic mode."

"I figured that. I was playing hard to get and he turned the other way."

Alec chuckles. "I can imagine that. But I'm happy that you tried to get to know him anyway. Although I don't think that you two are a good match."

Magnus smirks in amusement. "Is that so?"

Alec nods and moves over to Magnus' bench. "Yeah," he says when the cabin has finally stopped swaying. "I wish you were my date."

"Why? Because we have so much in common?" Magnus snorts.

Alec shrugs. "Opposites attract." He leans in, to Magnus' ear. "And I saw you checking out my ass," he whispers over the noises of the fair.

"You have a very nice ass, Alec. Who would blame me?"

***

"Sonofabitch! I can't believe he's kissing my date!"

Castiel chuckles, and the sound worms itself into Dean's chest and settles in his heart. "They look cute together, though."

"I guess they'll take another round, huh?" Dean laughs.

"Seems that way. Would you like to walk over the fair with me?" Dean smiles at him. He intertwines their fingers and relishes Castiel's answering smile. Alec will likely not use Krav Maga on him.

[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen—have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—”

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[fanficfreekmcu]

The Duties of a Queen (15) | NSFW

ᚳᚻᚫᛈᛏᛖᚱ ᛚᛁᛋᛏ, ᛋᚢᛗᛗᚫᚱᚣ, & ᚹᚫᚱᚾᛁᚾᚷᛋ

Loki peeked his eye open the next morning before running his hand down his bride’s bare back. She moaned while rolling over, giving him access to spoon up to her.

“It’s morning,” he whispered.

“I see that,” she grinned.

“I do believe that the whole of Asgard, and perhaps a few other realms can personally vouch for the consummation of our marriage last night.”

She began to giggle. “Was I that loud?”

“I’m not complaining,” he ran his hand down her side and around her thigh as she sighed.

“Nor am I,” she reached her hand back to run through his hair.

He lifted her leg before sliding his morning erection inside her.

She turned her head to catch his lips as a knock came from the main door.

“Go away,” Loki growled, not stopping in the slightest.

“My King, we have…”

“I said go away!” he raised his voice.

“What if it’s important?” Finna whispered.

“Nothing is more important that burying myself deep within my queen this morning,” he groped her breast with a twinkle in his eye.

She moved her head and arched her back as he continued his assault, his hips slapping against the back of hers.

“King Loki…”

He stopped and turned to face the door. “I’m trying to bed my bride!” the sound of the furniture in the hall bursting against the walls echoed. 

“Loki,” Finna laughed. “We can finish this later.”

He stopped and pushed her onto her back before crawling on top of her. “I refuse to begin the first day of my marriage to you by running off to the flock,” he rolled his eyes incredulously before pushing his hips against hers.

She brought her knees up to hook over his shoulders as he reached up to grab onto their golden headboard.

As he continued to anger at their interruption, his body began to cool; quickly becoming cold to the touch. Finna looked into his eyes as they turned red, his skin becoming blue and raised with the markings of the Jotun he was. She curled her nails into the cold, blue flesh of his chest as her eyes glowed deep green.

“Finn…” he warned lowly.

“Ah!” she closed her eyes and threw her head back. “Oh!” 

The tapestries along the walls of the great hall shook as the families and friends of the royal family began to gather for breakfast. Sif’s eyes widened as she turned to Frigga.

“I don’t suspect we’ll be seeing much of our King for the next month or so,” she bit her lip to hide a smile.

Sif nodded before turning to Fandral and raised her eyebrows. 

“Perfect,” he nodded.

“What’s perfect?” Volstagg waited.

“The beautiful day,” Hogun interrupted. “Why don’t we take the opportunity to savor it and spar in the courtyard?”

“Perfect,” Sif grinned before jumping up and dashing off.

Frigga raised her eyebrows suspiciously before returning to her meal.

.

Once Loki went off to work, Finna was left to meet her ladies in waiting. They bathed and dressed her before braiding her hair, the symbol that she was no longer a maiden.

She then went on a tour of Valaskjálf with Frigga and ended up at Odin’s bedside in Glaðsheimr. 

“Should I really be in here?” Finna looked around.

“You’re part of our family now, and our Queen. It is only proper that you meet the Allfather.”

She nodded humbly before sitting with her.

“Finna, I’m not sure how much Loki has told you about his relationship with his father…”

“He’s very angry right now,” she spoke honestly. 

“That… I do know,” she sighed.

“He was raised to believe he was Asgardian and second in line for the throne,” she explained. “He has no idea who he is now, he’s conflicted.”

She nodded. “You are so good for him. I’m overjoyed that he has confided so much in you.”

“I was prepared to marry a man that I hardly knew. I was extremely indifferent regarding my marriage to Edel… but this is so different with Loki. I know… he will watch over and take care of us.”

“It is a rare thing in our culture to marry for love,” she took her hand. “And it fills my soul with joy to see my Loki completely smitten with you. I wish you many years of happiness, my dear,” she kissed her forehead. “However, I am worried that if my eldest son ever returns home…”

She pulled away and looked up at her. “Thor?”

“It is his child you’re carrying,” she informed her.

Finna searched her eyes for a moment. “It is.”

“Which of my sons are you truly in love with?” she waited.

Tears filled her eyes as she turned away. “I made my choice, My Queen.”

“Thor will return one day, what will you tell him?”

“According to Loki, that day will never come.”

“The Allfather has a purpose for all that he does. He will return.”

She closed her eyes. “I will face that issue when the time comes.”

The door opened, interrupting them. “My Queen, Lady Sif is here offer her congratulations.”

“Go on,” Frigga waved her off. “I’ll see you at supper.”

She bowed to her before walking off to meet Sif in the hall.

“My Queen,” Sif bowed. “Congratulation on your marriage to King Loki.”

“Stop it,” Finna waved her hands before taking Sif’s. “Thank you,” she smiled. “That is very kind of you.”

“Will you continue on as my Shieldmaiden?” she asked as they walked together toward the balcony.

“Probably not,” she sighed. “I have duties now, you know.”

“You do, my Queen.”

“Sif…”

“It’s all changed, Finna. Like it or not, you are married to the King now.”

“Which means I can do what I want, and I want you to stop!” she grinned.

“That sounds amazingly like your new husband,” she smiled for her.

“We do have a lot in common,” she nodded. “You grew up with him?”

“He and his eldest brother, yes. You remember Thor, don’t you?” she angered.

“Not you too,” she looked away.

“We all knew about you two, Finna. You were terrible at hiding your relationship. What happens when…”

“I don’t know,” she angered. “Nothing, I suppose. I’m married to his brother and nothing can change that.”

“You’re married to a man you care nothing for!” she hissed.

“Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again,” her eyes glowed green.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “Have you heard about his exile?” she asked.

“Of course, Loki talks about him quite a bit. He misses his brother terribly.”

“Then why won’t he bring him back home?” she stopped her.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” she dropped her eyes and bowed. “But your husband is King. He has the authority to bring his brother home.”

“I cannot answer a question I know not the answer for,” she looked out into the courtyard to see a man beating a wolf. “Please excuse me,” her face reddened as she ran off to the stairs. 

Sif followed her down to the courtyard and watched as she yelled at the man. 

“Why are you beating this wolf?” she waved her right hand, causing the man’s to freeze.

“Well that ain’t none of your business now, is it gorgeous?”

Sif raised her eyebrows as she stepped back and crossed her arms.

She knelt down as the wolf limped to her and collapsed. “She’s injured and malnourished. Why were you beating her?” she stared into his eyes.

“She wasn’t pullin’ her weight. A wolf that don’t work is useless.”

“How do you expect her to work if she’s weak with hunger?”

“She’s a bleedin’ wolf, she should do what she’s told!”

Sif’s eyes widened as Finna rose to her feet, her eyes turning bright yellow. “You will never beat another animal again. You will see to it that every animal in your home is fed before you sit down to eat every night for the rest of your life. And if I ever see you again, you had better hope that I’m in an amazingly good mood.”

“Yes, My Queen,” he dropped to his knees as her eyes returned to normal.

“Now go, before I really get angry.”

Sif watched the man scamper off before turning to her. “I like this new side of you.”

She smirked before waving her hand and producing a bowl of meat for the wolf. “I think I do too.”

They were interrupted by one of Finna’s maidens. “My Queen, there is an Erik Stephenson that has requested an audience.”

“No rest for the new queen,” Sif nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

“I look forward to talking with you more at supper tonight.”

“As do I,” she smiled before walking off. 

.

“Oh sweet Valhalla, it’s true!” she heard Erik’s voice before she saw him, but turned in time to receive a hug. Four Einherjar took a step forward, but Finna raised her hand. 

“I’m fine,” she nodded to them.

“I have to admit, I had my doubts about you and Edel being a good match, but I completely thought you were meant for our Luke!”

She burst out laughing before looking around.

“What’s so damned funny, Finna? Loki is not someone you wanna get messed up with!”

“Shhhh,” she frowned. “Walk with me.”

“Why? Is he spying on you already?”

“Well... yes, but he’s always done that,” she giggled. “He’s quite the stalker.”

He glared at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Luke is Loki,” she whispered as he stopped in his tracks.

“Come again?”

“He really has enjoyed your companionship these past few years and didn’t want to kill it by letting you all know his true identity. The night he and I met… I nearly blew his secret, he wasn’t at all happy that I could see through his tricks.”

He thought things over quietly before breaking into a huge smile. “Well that changes things completely, now doesn’t it?”

She raised her eyebrows as she watched him.

“Your secret’s safe with me, My Queen,” he bowed to her.

“Stop that,” she blushed.

“There you are!” Loki’s voice boomed toward them. “Erik! Great to see you, my friend!” he shook his hand.

“It really is you!” he laughed. “Your bride just filled me in on the secret, I’m… impressed you’ve been able to keep it for so long.”

“Until she came around,” he placed his hand on Finna’s shoulder. “Now that there’s no more trickery or secrets, feel free to attend supper tonight with us and invite everyone else. I’d love to celebrate our marriage with friends.”

“We would be honored! I need to go then, to round them all up if we’re going to make it in time.”

They both nodded their goodbyes as he dashed off before turning to one another.

“Hi,” she smiled before he kissed her.

“Hi,” he closed his eyes and smiled. “Long day?”

“Busy,” she laced her fingers through his. “You?”

“Tedious,” he complained. “I keep thinking about last night.”

She bit her lip. “Just what makes you think that tonight won’t be better?”

A chill of excitement ran down his spine.  “Oh how I wish we could just take the day and hide in our bedchamber.”

“Why can’t we? You’re the King.”

He nipped at her lips before forming a huge smile. “True.”

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵❂➵➵➵➵➵➵➵ 16

[nitrateglow]

My god-tier Audrey Hepburn movies

I just realized I’ve technically seen all of Audrey Hepburn’s movies-- or rather, all the movies in which she was given star billing.

So, because I’m bored, here’s a list of my top ten personal favorites of her films. The criteria is simple: 1) she had to have starred in it, so nothing from her pre-Roman Holiday career counts nor does 1989′s Always, and 2) this is based on my level of enjoyment of the movie in question.

1. Wait Until Dark

Wait Until Dark possesses many merits, but Hepburn is one of its key strengths. For me, the most interesting performances are the ones able to balance seemingly opposing elements of the character in question. Here, Hepburn balances vulnerability with inner strength, insecurity and terror with courage, angry frustration with budding confidence. She makes her character seem like such a real, vital presence, like someone you would know. Also, having someone as sweet as Hepburn as the target for the cruel mind games and brutal violence of the villains makes the horror all the more terrifying.

Beyond her performance, this movie feels like it was tailor-designed to appeal to me: an intelligent and formidable villain, the everyday setting juxtaposed with a menacing atmosphere, scary scenes that don’t rely on gore, eccentric criminals, dark humor, a tight script without an ounce of fat on it. But you’ve heard me go on, so I’ll leave it there.

2. Charade

Charade is a prime example of how to mix suspense and comedy. The mystery at the heart of the movie is very clever, with twists and turns every other moment, constantly keeping the audience on their toes. Best of all, the film holds up after repeat viewings because of the delicious chemistry between Hepburn and Cary Grant, and the witty screenplay, which has such an elegant and tight structure that I seethe with envy as a writer every time I revisit this glorious thriller.

As in Wait Until Dark, Hepburn is concerned for her life as she’s terrorized by criminals, only here, they’re mostly more humorous in nature, sometimes even lovable (except Scobie, he can just jump off a cliff). She mainly gets to exercise her comedic chops, throwing off quips, sarcastic lines, and screwball banter with wonderful finesse. It makes me sad she never made more films with Cary Grant-- the two have a spark that belies the large age gap between them.

3. Roman Holiday

The character-building, naturalistic performances, and humor make Roman Holiday one of the best examples of romantic comedy. The film has both a gentle touch and a grounded maturity that make it more than just a remix of the earlier and quite similar screwball comedy It Happened One Night. To get a bit literary and pretentious, it reminds me a bit of Romeo and Juliet-- not because of the romance, but in how the movie starts as a standard screwball comedy and ends on a lyrical, wistful note you might not have expected.

Even though this was her first lead role in a feature film, I think Hepburn’s performance as Ann remains one of her strongest. Ann feels regal and dignified while also possessing the naivete and restlessness of a teenager on the brink of adulthood. It’s as fabulous a star-establishing movie as anyone could want.

4. How to Steal a Million

How to Steal a Million is pure fun. Not a moment of this caper comedy is to be taken seriously (which makes it the perfect quarantine movie if you need something to de-stress with). I always regard this movie as Charade’s even frothier spiritual successor: both films are playful, stylish, funny, and packed with romantic banter, plot twists, and colorful 1960s fashions. The main difference is that in this one, there’s no mortal threat involved and the humor gets a little more risque though not crass.

Also, how nice is it for Hepburn to be paired with a leading man closer to her age? Peter O’Toole was only three years younger than Hepburn when this was filmed. The two of them have glorious, cute chemistry.

5. The Nun’s Story

I hate the question of “objective best” anything, but if you put a gun to my head, I would say The Nun’s Story is features Hepburn’s most impressive work as an actress. For those who accuse Hepburn of being too affected, of being a mere clothes’ horse, here she is bare-faced, dressed in a nun’s habit, and playing a very reserved character whose dilemmas are largely internal. She plays her character’s spiritual conflict with an understatement that could only be considered skillful.

The film itself will likely be seen as “too slow” by most and there are a few colonial elements towards the Congo section that date it, but the film’s strengths, both from Hepburn’s performance and the mature way it presents its individual versus the system story, give it classic status. Few movies regarding organized religion are this balanced and lacking in propaganda, either for or against it.

6. Breakfast at Tiffany’s

While still Hepburn’s most iconic role, Breakfast at Tiffany’s gets called “overrated” a lot these days and fans of the original Truman Capote novella routinely dog it for making heavy changes to the source material. There’s also the, you know, gross yellowface a la Mickey Rooney that deflates every scene in which he appears. However, is the move bad? NO. It juggles zany comedy, tender romance, and rather heavy drama too well for me to consign it to the “overrated” bin. Blake Edwards was a fine director and this movie is one of his best.

And Hepburn gives a damn good performance as Holly Golightly, even if she is not the character envisioned by Capote. This character could easily be unlikable if played the wrong way-- she’s a “phony,” rather pathetic, and self-loathing despite her wit and charm. But rather than coming off as an unbearable loser, Hepburn’s Holly is a realistic, relatable loser we all love in spite of her own delusions and lashing out. She might even hit too close to home (or maybe that’s just me).

7. Funny Face

Funny Face took a few viewings to grow on me. It was one of the first Hepburn movies I ever saw (that was back in high school) and I was initially excited because it was directed by Stanley Donen who co-directed Singin’ in the Rain with Gene Kelly, a long-time favorite of mine. I expected this movie to be just as sublime and was disappointed when it didn’t hit that high mark.

Rewatching it later, I now find it very charming. It’s incredibly upbeat and relaxing, the sort of old-school movie musical that doesn’t get made anymore. Hepburn’s singing is a bit rough in the bigger numbers, but she is very sweet, a damn good dancer, and quite attractive to the point where she just takes my breath away. Fred Astaire and Kay Thompson are also wonderful and get a lot of great moments that show off their talent.

8. My Fair Lady

When considering what would go on this list, I was honestly shocked to realize how much I like this movie. I’m in the camp that considers Hepburn miscast, I find George Cukor’s direction rather stiff, and I really don’t like how the ending is changed from the original play. In spite of all this, I still really enjoy this movie for the songs, costumes, and what remains of Shaw’s brilliant satire on class and gender relations. Those three hours go by and the movie never outstays its welcome.

While I think Hepburn wasn’t the number one best choice for the part (I don’t really buy her as a crass flower girl in the beginning), she isn’t a disaster by any means. She’s still charming and sympathetic, and once she makes her transformation, you have to wonder how Higgins held it together, she’s so gorgeous. And I love the relish with which she approaches the “Just you Wait” song or the way she delivers the “move your bloomin’ arse” line at the races.

9. Sabrina

I think producers figured because of the fairy tale appeal of Roman Holiday, Hepburn would be perfect for this modern take on Cinderella, set in 1950s New York. Just like in Roman Holiday, Hepburn gets to undergo dramatic character development and show her comedic skills. It’s a cute movie, with a very charming William Holden and gorgeous black-and-white cinematography. It’s also shockingly uncynical for a Billy Wilder project.

About the closest thing this movie has to a flaw is Humphrey Bogart as Linus, the guy who Sabrina chooses in the end. This is a role Cary Grant could have played in his sleep, but Bogart clearly is not enjoying himself in some scenes. However, he isn’t movie-breakingly bad by any means. His character is meant to be a hidden softie and far more dependable than his handsomer brother, so I can buy that Sabrina would warm to him in the end.

10. They All Laughed

People tend to argue what the last “worthwhile” Hepburn movie is. Most argue it’s 1976′s Robin and Marian, while I’ve seen some go as far back as How to Steal a Million in 1966. They All Laughed, a Peter Bogdonavich comedy from 1981, gets my vote. This is a love letter to screwball comedies much like Bogdonavich’s 1972 classic What’s Up Doc, only with a far more melancholy edge.

Hepburn does not become a major presence in the movie until nearly halfway through. However, she approaches her role with a mature dignity that makes me wish she’d done more work along this line towards the end of her career. Her character comes off as an older, sadder Princess Ann from Roman Holiday. This makes the movie sound morose, but it isn’t: it ends with life going on and the characters accepting that with grace.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale’s Top Ten: Favorite ML Characters

Similar to my Least Favorite list, I am going STRICTLY by how I enjoy the person’s character in Canon only.  This is also my opinion, so Odds are you won't agree exactly with my list. and it does get a bit rambley

Let me know what your favorite characters are, I would love to hear about them.

_____________________________________________________________________

10. Juleka Couffaine:

Interestingly While her Brother made the other list, Juleka is a character I find very interesting. She gets a lot of funny quips and comments which you wouldn't expect from the quiet girl. She is actually one of the class that I find has an interesting character, she wants to model, but is lacking in confidence and finds herself in situations where she is photographed badly. She has anxiety but she still tries to live her dreams. She is a supportive Girlfriend Friend to Rose, a trust worthy member of the Help Mari bag Adrien club, and also just adorable. I love seeing her on screen and her akuma, while interesting in design has quite an interesting performance that is always fun to enjoy. Heck, the producers of the show used her Akuma THREE TIMES in season 3. She is a rocker girl with a soft side, and she actually helps give Luka a good chunk of his personality (so there is so MAJOR points for that.

9. Alya Cesaire / Rena Rouge:

Marinette’s blogger best friend and Fox Heroine of Paris. Alya has a lot of personality. Dedicated to finding the truth and being a good Wingwoman to Marinette. Alya does have a few faults, where she gets carried away in whatever catches her interest and sometime pushes Marinette in scenarios that can be considered Awkward, but she always has the best intentions and will fight for her friend. Now A LOT of people have recently become very bold with their feelings of negativity towards the girl, (salty fans) And I know an au or two have not been kind to her (one in particular that came out during Oblivio comes to mind). But I am not judging on Fandom criteria or salty au’s. I like Alya’s character and I can't wait to see more.

8. Lê Chiến Kim / King Monkey

The energetic Athlete who may be a bit slow on the uptake, but always down for a dare. He is the embodiment of endearing and he always makes me laugh when on screen. I just love how much energy he has. He is a dork and he doesn't give a damn what you say. One of the few characters that got even better in season 3, I love this monkey boy and his wonderful antics. Nothing more to it except, only he would bring a swimsuit in a train.

7. Max Kante / Pegasus

Our robot making class genius got a heck of an upgrade during season 3. His character shining like a diamond. He rocks his transformation, his relationship with his mom, best robo bud Markov, and his dynamic with the jock bro Kim are all wonderful. He gains mad respect for Marinette and I just love how he plays off of everyone. The boy is smart and has a way of getting a few good moments in pretty much any episode.

6. Alix Kubdel both Present and Future:

Whether she is a roller blading graffiti artist with some cute sarcasm or a time lord that is simply trying to correct history, Alix is a character I enjoy seeing on screen at any interval. I think if I HAD to pick, I lean towards present Alix, because I find her much funnier, plus her dynamic with EVERYONE is great, I was especially loving her bits with her bff Nathanael. but Bunnyx has me curious on a LOT of things regarding the future. Though her reveal did mean that adults got no time limit on powers seems like a cop out, but if the price is seeing Bunnyx then its Time well spent.

5. Kagami Tsurugi/ Ryuuko:

Okay, I know there are a lot of people that are not a fan of Kagami. You are wrong, but that is your opinion. Kagami is easily one of the most interesting characters in Miraculous ladybug. She is a mirror (like her name implies) of both Adrien and Marinette. She reflects the feelings Adrien has, growing up with a controlling parent with hardly any free time that enjoys fencing and just wants to make friends. She reflects Marinette’s crush on Adrien, both seeing him as the sweet guy underneath and not for shallow reasons. Kagami’s confidence paralleling Marinette’s when she is driven. Kagami can also be hilariously awkward and really wants to make friends. Her time as Ryuuko is also a delight to see. Now I know some people are all complaining that her characterization is inconsistent, and honestly, I don't see it. Kagami has always been an intense person, when she wants something, she goes for it, even if she is unsure of how things will turn out (her feelings for Adrien) or how to go about it (Trying to make friends with Marinette) She is honest to the letter and I think that is something very admirable.

4. Nino Lahiffe / Carapace

GIVE HIM MORE SCREEN TIME!

Nino is Adrien’s best bro. Nino goes out of his way to be supportive and caring for Adrien. The boy got akumatized because he was pissed at Adrien’s dad for NOT letting his son celebrate his birthday! Nino is so loyal, both as a bff or as a BF. He is a caring older brother and a cool superhero. The Dj/ Film director wannabe is a chill and fun dude that Totally deserves Wayzz (More then another turtle I know *Cough* Cough*)

I honestly can't find a single thing to dislike about Nino, he is just such a good dude. Sure he can be a bit of a foot in mouth guy, and can be a bit naive on somethings, but he is such a bro you can't help but love him.

3. Plagg

It Physically hurts me that I can't put him higher on this list. The two in the main spot are just in Leagues of their own. Plagg is the most developed Character in the series and I will FIGHT ANYONE on that. Plagg starts out as selfish and only caring about cheese but becomes a friend and Confidant to Adrien. He cares about his blond son and wants to see that boy happy and safe. He does know the rules and if he knows Adrien is not doing the right thing (i.e. trying to be another hero when he is chat noir) he will call him out on it. But Plagg also encourages Adrien’s teen rebellion, such as when he was so proud of Adrien sneaking out to go to London with his class. Plagg is the perfect Kwami for Adrien and his jokes and Banter is the best part of the show’s comedy. I love this little entity of destruction and I want more of him.

2. Adrien Agreste / Chat noir

Honestly Numbers one and two are interchangeable, but I think Adrien fits perfectly as the second spot on the list. I love how compassionate and caring he is. Adrien is an interesting character. In season 1 you would find that Adrien and Chat noir were pretty much opposites, Adrien was calm, obedient, composed, almost formal, while Chat noir was wild, flirty, impulsive, rebellious and a wisecracker. Both forms maintain his need to help others and his passionate love for his friends and his Lady. 

Adrien/ Chat noir’s dynamic with Marinette/ Ladybug is always a delight to see, changing depending on which side is being seen. The flirty chat with Ladybug, the sweet love struck Adrien with Ladybug, The cocky yet caring Chat with Marinette, and the Sweet caring friend Adrien to Marinette. The love square allows for exploration of their character and I wish we could have seen it better utilized. Chat noir loves Ladybug, even if she doesn't love him the same way, he still fights by her side and will do anything for her. (a few minor bumps, but hey it happens, he is allowed a few hiccups)

As the series goes on, Adrien starts acting more rebellious, starts joking more, even a bit more flirty, he starts becoming more comfortable with himself and others, he even lets himself be selfish at times. He cares about others and he is afraid of being locked away alone. His fear of being alone has made him very naive and trusting of others, willing to overlook behavior to an extent, with the exception that it doesn't hurt anyone he cares about. (Lila being someone that has crossed this line, and seeing Adrien actually being intimidating for once.) Is he flawed? Yes. That what I love about him, he is portrayed at this perfect model, but that is more of a mask then Chat noir, and Adrien is slowly peeking out and I can't wait to see him shatter it completely. 

1. Marinette Dupain Cheng /Ladybug

What can I say about this lovable daughter of mine?

She is without a doubt one of the best teen hero main characters I have ever seen. (And I am taking Kim Possible Level, Danny Phantom level) 

Marinette is creative, caring, compassionate, competent, clumsy, competitive, considerate, and a bunch more C words that mean good things. She is a top notch designer, guardian in training, and all she wants is to win over her crush, who she doesn't know is in love with her alter ego.

Marinette has a LOT going for her and I enjoy how she overreacts and I find myself relating to her in a lot of ways. Though she is worlds more competent then I will ever be, and she is 14.

Marinette also takes the weight of the world on her shoulders, always having to plan ahead, always having to be ready, and now she is the guardian.

I can talk on and on about how amazing she is and how interesting her flaws are, but I feel so many other people have talked about that to death. I will simply say that she is very likable.

She gets the audience to WANT her to succeed, she is so selfless that you feel for her everytime something doesn't go well for her. The season 3 finale felt Like LITTERAL Knives in my back seeing how much unnecessary pain she was in, all because of something that really wasn't her fault. (I am still salty about the finale) I really want her to be happy, and I hope she and Adrien do get together in season 4. Or I will be flying over to Paris and Punching EVERY PERSON writer at Zagtoon. INCLUDING a punch to Thomas so hard his non-existent grandkids will hear it.

Back on target.

Marinette is a delight and I am glad Miraculous ladybug exists because it introduced us to an amazing Heroine and Character.

[serendipitybutterfly]

BTS Tarot Valentines Day Special:

BTS' Future Marriages...

I know... Unusual for me since I tend to focus more on advice than predictions for the most part... But, as it's this lovey dovey season, I decided to do a marriage themed reading as a special treat as I've gotten asks surrounding this kind of question before... This is going to be a mammoth post... Omg..

This is my Valentines Day present for you guys who follow and like my readings! Thank you!!!! I 💜 you!

So, without further ado... Let's get it!

*Disclaimer- the way i see it, although this is a prediction reading, I'm only working with the energies of the present moment. If one of the boys wakes up tomorrow and firmly decides he never wants to get married, then his path will change and future readings would reflect that. For the most part, the future is in flux and can be changed... If something is a huge, fateful, set in stone kind of event then the cards will let me know. Also, in this particular reading, rather than focusing on the physical appearance of their future partners, I'm intending to focus more on personality and only mention physical appearance if something strongly comes to mind or their looks come forward as a major message of the reading. Ok done! Let's really get it! 💜

Oh wait... before anything else, I was going to call this future Marriages or life partners (because, obviously, not everyone gets married) but I just decided to ask first off if they'd all get married for the sake of clarity and got a resounding yes for them all so... Yeah... As of now, all of the boys are likely to actually get married in the future. Although... Some are closer to that future than others. Also, I was going to put all of the readings into one big post but then I realised how ridiculously long that would be and decided to split the hyung line and maknae line up into two separate posts. I'm starting with the maknae line and hopefully the hyung line post will follow soon...

Maknae line:

Starting with Park Jimin...

Character profile - The archetype cards that popped out gave me an interesting message... I'm getting the image of someone that had quite a hard life, possibly even a somehow traumatic past (cards like bully and victim in particular stood out to me as being indicative of a troubled past), but managed to retain a sweetness and childlike innocence despite it... I'm also definitely getting the image of an introvert. Someone quite soft spoken, gentle and who comes across as a bit shy. She might feel more comfortable with animals and young children than with most people. Physically I feel like she will be younger than him, and somewhat innocent and fragile looking but at the same time there's something kind of edgy and / or sexy in her style... She might wear a lot of dark colours. Yeah... I know I said I wouldn't focus on looks... But I'm definitely also getting East Asian features coming through visually... I'm also seeing long, straight, black hair and fair skin. This is the kind of person who tends to inspire protective feelings in others... But at the same time has a lot of inner strength that they can use to heal and bolster other people's confidence in themselves.

Relationship- With the Dawn card, I feel like she will give Jimin a whole new fresh perspective on life... I'm hearing 'clean slate' and 'washing away'... I'm just feeling a lovely, pure, soothing, watery kind of energy to this connection overall. I mean, the romance angels oracle deck threw out 'True Love' to describe this connection so... I mean, if Jimin still has those romantic dreams of meeting his one true love like he used to... He can definitely have that wish granted! It's just... Going to take some time... With the Chariot in reverse here, I feel like he will have to wait quite some time before they meet...hmm... How old will he be in another 7 years? About 32? Could be around then or after... But, at this point, it's unlikely to be before...

The tarot here couldn't paint a rosier picture tbh... I really hope Jimin does meet this person in the future because it looks like this marriage could genuinely be the making of true and lasting happiness for him. Just look at these beautiful cards! 10 of cups... Happy family with a loving home environment and playing children! The star because this really is a dream come true, a wish answered. Then you have a reversed queen of wands (👀 omg why does Queen of wands energy always come up with anything to do with romance with Jimin??). However... Interestingly enough, here I'm seeing her as a soft spoken young woman who comes across as quite shy and introverted but who possesses a great deal of inner strength and power... (which is why context matters in tarot guys... Cards mean something different to me basically every time!). This is next to the knight of swords who I see as our lovely libra boy Jimin himself... I'm literally see this as a Knight in shining armor rushing in to the rescue. That's how he'll feel in this relationship. Not at all in a burdensome way... But like that feeling gives him this great deal of strength and confidence in himself. She makes him feel strong and capable and in control... Like a hero. Why is this making me emo? ...

Anyway, then the high priestess is here to sum this connection up and I feel strongly that this is an extremely deep, intuitive connection... The meeting of souls... They can look at each other and just... Know what the other is feeling... Could even be a soul mate / past life connection I think... Wow.

All in all... This is great news for Jimin's future in terms of marriage at this point. Although I do think it'll be a while before they meet and longer before actually getting married... It looks pretty rosy from then on! I'm not saying there will be no bumps in the road at all (I can sense that there are certainly some deep personal issues on both sides that actually need to be dealt with through this union... Which is some soul journey stuff... ) however overall this seems like it will be an amazing match! I'm so glad! 💜 💜 💜

Kim Taehyung:

Character profile:... Uh... Haha... You just had to be different huh Tae... Lol... Ok... So here's the thing... Where marriage is concerned, Tae has that interesting fate where he actually has a choice (I mean, everyone has a choice... But most people don't actually recognise it as a choice... It just kinda happens because it's their fate. Tae has the opportunity to make a conscious choice here regarding his fate because it's like either way he can learn important lessons and grow... Both are fated partners for him. Like a real diverging path kind of thing. He will get to a point where he can choose one path or another with basically full awareness of this as a choice... This is really interesting actually. I mean, either way, he will get married and he can be happy either way too... Although in different ways for different reasons... It's very interesting...

As far as personality goes... I see two distinct personalities coming through... On one side you have someone quite mature, serious, artistic, intellectual, quiet and spiritual and on the other side I see someone very young, pretty, flirty, fun loving, popular and witty... Also very wealthy and a little bit haughty... But kinda 'cute' and funny with it?? Idk why I'm getting that... Like a kind of sly sense of humour...

Unfortunately... This is weirdly up in the air because of this aspect of choice. I can see that both will appeal greatly to different sides of him... If only they could be one person... But alas...

Relationship: Again... The tarot shows how up in the air this is because there is not yet a set path. Tae hasn't even met them yet. He's not thinking seriously of marriage at all yet. However, with the Wheel of Fortune reversed here we can see that though this is not yet set in motion, it is fated either way. Death in reverse and the Hanged Man are also giving me that up in the air, 'paused', kind of feeling... Like this fate is just waiting, biding its time to be set in motion... Right now he's on a solo path, pursuing his career and furthering his goals... It's when he's ready to let some of that go that this will be set in motion... It feels like a few years into the future to me... Not too far but not too close either... I'm not getting a definite time frame. It could be within two to three years or around him going into his early 30s...

You'll notice on one side of the 'up in the air fate' cards we've got the 4 of wands and on the other side we've got the 10 of pentacles representing the two different connections. Both are really auspicious cards for marriage. Both connections are also signified by the two of cups... Both are deep love connections... Again because this is up the air, I'm not getting specifics about the outcomes of either choice, but it does seem atleast like he has the potential to be happy in either marriage. However it looks like in one he can have the big family and legacy (in terms of children and grandchildren and leaving a home and inheritance to them) he desires, while the other relationship seems more quiet and more just about them as a couple being happy together.

I feel like the card Solitude: Island speaks of that connection (them being alone and peaceful together... Perhaps travelling to faraway countries together... And that calmer more serious vibe in that connection) while the card Playfulness is speaking of the other connection (way more youthful, energetic, playful, and flirty energy... And also literal children- and puppies!- incoming!).

So yeah *shrug*... Decisions decisions Tae... He can only make the right choice when the time comes at the end of the day (and he has a lot of spiritual guidance on his side if he chooses to tune in). It's quite likely that by then his priorities and desires for what he really wants out of life will become clearer to him and that will make the decision easier... At this point, it seems like neither of them are a particularly bad choice... Though neither is necessarily perfect either... That's what makes this such a big, fateful decision I suppose... Good luck Tae! 💜 🙏

Now for Jungkook:

Character profile: Wow... Whatta boss... Lol. I'm kinda blown away by this energy to be honest. This is like... The best way I can describe it after looking at all the cards is... This is the kind of woman that both men and women are really attracted to and tend to like (regardless of sexuality). Like... Total 'girl crush', role model, material but also super attractive and sexy... Especially to men who like strong, capable women who have that 'boss' energy... Which is apparently future Jungkook I guess...

Actually these cards really make sense just based on what kind of people Jungkook seems to like to associate with anyway... I feel a sense that she will be older than him by at least a few years (if not, extremely mature and successful for her age). This is someone wise beyond their years who actively seeks knowledge and also goes further to implement what they've learnt to help others who are vulnerable. Something else that's coming through strongly is that this person is extremely creative and artistic... They have to be involved in the arts in some way, even if it isn't their main job. Actually, what I think is that she may work in one creative field (like say, a writer cause Scribe is there) but also does alot of other artistic and creative things as hobbies, like painting, drawing, dancing, singing... This is someone who delights in expressing her creativity so it doesn't have to make her money... She just loves it. Actually there's a kind of free spirited, bohemian, hippyish vibe here which is an interesting contrast to the boss energy... (I honestly want to be her best friend??).

Again, I know I said i wasn't focusing on looks but here looks are coming through really strongly... Like her attractiveness is really a major thing people notice about her so it has to be mentioned. I'm seeing long, wavy or curly black or dark brown hair (although she might also sometimes colour it... Especially red or reddish brown). She has a really great body... Like really fit and toned but also curvy (look at that goddess card! like I said... She's sexy). Also, probably a bit above average height. I'm also seeing that this is someone who's likely to have tanned or darker skin or who tans really easily in the sun... Like in the winter she might get quite pale but then in the summer sun gets a lot darker. She's definitely someone really natural, active and outdoorsy who's likely to get out in the sun as much as possible... I think she probably doesn't wear a lot of makeup... I'm just seeing a really natural beauty... Wow.

Relationship- With the Dreamtime: Creation card I'm getting two things coming through strongly. One is that I really think these two (certainly Jungkook) will actively be manifesting each other before they meet and will (or have already) dreamt about each other. Two is that, once again, I'm getting really highly charged creative energy. These are two extremely talented artists getting together and their relationship and home will reflect that. They encourage and push each other to improve. Really unique and quirky relationship actually... In fact, you'll notice that these cards aren't exactly overtly romantic... And yet... I'm still feeling the love?? Theirs isn't exactly a mushy kind of love but it's still very strong and extremely confident and secure. It's based firmly in actions that show love in a more practical way...

With the Sun shining on this marriage it's clear that they'll be really happy with one another (I see happy children here too... Another aspect of their mutual creativity... 😏 ) but there's also a lot of freedom and space. I see a lot of travelling and a lot of respect and understanding between them. That they are forgiving and don't hold grudges is coming through. This isnt a 'tit for tat' kind of relationship where they hold things over one another or only are nice to each other if the other person is nice first... It feels like they work through arguments maturely, quickly forgive everything and move on to being loving again.

With the page and 8 of Pentacles I see that they learn and grow together as people and work hard to make their relationship and bond extremely strong and they're successful in that. With the engagement card, I'm seeing two things, both strong commitment and loyalty to each other and also that they'll probably get married surprisingly quickly after they start dating. This is another case where I think it'll be a long wait for Jungkook... With the king of swords here... I feel like he'll be a definite MAN when he gets married... Like fully grown, probably rocking both longer hair and a beard... Lol... Older and wiser... Like around his mid 30's or even a little later... However, because he'll have been manifesting and dreaming of her for years (probably even already started guys) he'll just know from the time they meet that she's the one... So why hang about?

Conclusion... I kinda want to be bestfriends with Jungkook's future wife... She's really cool... 😭

OK... This has been the maknae line future marriages reading... I will try to drop the hyung line's readings before, on or just after valentines day so stay tuned! Hope you guys enjoyed!!! 💜 💜 💜

[ofsinnersandsaints]

one night and every morning after

rating: E (this chapter is G) total word count: 32752 chapter: 6/? takes place in episode 9 this episode exists almost entirely because of @majestrixstormbringer who is the bestest ao3

Macy woke up at eleven in the morning, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, she wasn’t exhausted. Tired, yes. Her eyes felt scratchy and the temptation to roll over and try to get another hour of sleep was tempting, but it was Christmas Eve and this was the first time she’d ever get to celebrate the holiday her sisters and she wasn’t about to miss a minute.

For as long as she could remember it had just been her and her dad, a quiet and simple holiday which she sometimes spent with her grandparents. But as she got ready for the day, she could hear the Christmas music floating up to the second floor as the murmur of voices drifted up along with the classics and it warmed her heart to hear.

Macy had heard all about their family traditions – decorating the tree today, presents at midnight. They’d asked if she had anything she wanted to add to the festivities, and the only thing she could think of was the massive breakfast her father cooked Christmas morning. Harry had promised to go all out.

With that thought, Macy felt butterflies in her stomach which she tried ignored, because this wasn’t just her first Christmas with Maggie and Mel, it was her first Christmas with Harry as well.

Harry whom she cared about, Harry whom she couldn’t be with in any public way, Harry who sometimes looked at her in a way which made her forget her own name.

Moving to her vanity she picked up her tablet and sat back down her bed, searching through her cloud until she found a very old video. Before she could push play there was a knock on her door, and she knew without asking it was Harry on the other side.

“Come in.”

Her secret boyfriend was wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater she’d ever seen, and it made her smile, but somehow in the short time they’d known each other Harry had learned to read her face. His brows lowered as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, because everything was okay. She had her sisters, she was a powerful witch, had a great secret boyfriend, and yet… “Holidays are just hard since my dad died.”

He moved across the room, a glass in his hand, and sat beside her on the bed. “It’s been two years?”

She nodded and looked down at the tablet in her hands, her father’s face frozen on the screen. “I was going to watch an old video from Christmas when I was kid.”

His smile grew, brightening his eyes as he scooted even closer so he could look over her shoulder. “Little Macy? Now, this I have to see.”

With a soft laugh, Macy pushed play and watched as her father’s face filled the entire screen. He’d set up the digital camera in the corner so it would catch both them and his parents, and true enough her ten-year-old self bounced into frame. Her hair was in a puff, tied together with plaid ribbon.

“Presents!” she announced to the room, and her father laughed.

“Grab one from underneath the tree,” but even as he said that he grabbed one wrapped in silver paper. “This one is from Santa.”

“You’re adorable,” Harry murmured, his eyes completely focused on the image of her meticulously unwrapping the paper of her present. “I’d have guessed you weren’t the type to tear the wrapping paper.”

Macy smiled, a little embarrassed, until she realized she remembered this particular present. Santa had bought her a small, silver jewelry box with a purple gemstone on top – she still had it somewhere, packed in a box. It had been stupid to carry around such a small keepsake, but she hadn’t been able to get rid of it.

“You seem happy.” Macy paused the video where she was showing her dad what she’d gotten. “You must miss him.”

“All of them,” she corrected with a sad sigh. “Gran and Gramps died a few years before Dad. It was just me the past few years.”

He looked at a picture of her and her sisters she kept on her dresser. “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about that now.”

Macy nodded and took his cup, taking a sip of what she’d thought was eggnog and was caught off guard when it wasn’t anything like she expected. “What is this?”

“According to your sisters, it’s coquito. Family tradition.” She took another sip now that she knew what to expect. “This may not be my first glass.”

With a laugh she handed the cup back to him. “It’s not even noon.”

“It’s Christmas,” he shrugged. Harry stood up and held out a hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she took his hand and together they walked downstairs. It was still a little odd to be displaying any kind of affection outside their little orb. She’d never snuck around in high school, but she imagined it would feel a lot like this, worried at any moment someone with authority would sneak in and catch her doing something she shouldn’t.

When they got to the living room Maggie was moving ornaments, muttering something about how it was the wrong color on the wrong branch, but her face lit up with a smile when she saw them. “Merry Christmas! I was wondering when you were going to join us.”

“It was a late night,” she admitted. “And Merry Christmas to you.”

“When did you get home,” Mel asked as she came into the room with a handful of presents, setting them down carefully beneath the tree.

“After one,” Macy answered. Work at the lab hadn’t eased up for the holiday, so she’d put in extra hours yesterday to make sure she could have today and tomorrow off. “I didn’t get to sleep until three.”

“I hope you’re getting overtime at least,” Maggie commented.

“I’m not, but I’m on salary so if I have to take days off my pay won’t change, which comes in handy with the demons and everything.” Mel looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by the doorbell. Everyone looked at each other as if one of them had done it. “Are we expecting someone?”

“Maybe it’s Santa,” Maggie grinned as she moved to answer the door.

“Santa’s not real,” Mel reminded her.

Her eye roll was a near verbal thing. “Sure, we’re witches, Harry’s dead, and we met an Egyptian fertility goddess, but Santa is where we draw the line.”

Mel grimaced. “I hate it when she has a point.”

Macy didn’t want to think Santa was real, because that opened a whole other door she wasn’t prepared to deal with on so little sleep. In her mind, her dad was Santa, and he was the one who picked out her pretty presents each year. Probably with the help of her Gran.

When Maggie came back into the living room, her smile was strained. “Look who came by.”

Behind her, dressed in all white, was Charity. Almost without thinking, Macy dropped Harry’s hand and took a full step away from him.

It was probably one of the least subtle moved she’d ever done, and that was saying something.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Mel greeted, her friendliness as fake as her smile.

“I know I’m intruding, but I’m afraid this couldn’t wait.” Charity’s gaze locked on Harry first, her smile too soft and intimate to be considered professional. Something like jealous swirled around Macy’s heart, but she brushed it aside as Charity turned to look at Mel. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment, it’s about the Sarcana.”

“We’ll give you two a moment,” Macy turned and immediately left the room, heading for the kitchen. She wished she was better at cooking, then she could at least stay in the kitchen if she was helping get dinner ready.

Maybe she’d bake a pie.

She’d already made two, but maybe she’d try her hand at strawberry and rhubard. The fact she didn’t have either of those things in the kitchen would mean a trip to the grocery store, a reasonable enough excuse to leave the house and the heavy presence of Charity in her house.

There was that almost jealousy again, which seemed to come up in some form or another whenever Charity was around.

“Macy?” Harry had followed her, which he shouldn’t have done because they didn’t want Charity – who was, by the way, an Elder – to get the wrong idea. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure, everything’s great. Do you think we should ask your ex-girlfriend if she wants to stay for Christmas dinner?”

Macy he turned around, facing Harry over the island.

“My-“ his face had gone white and if Macy wasn’t more than a little irritated at the disruption of her perfect Christmas, she would have found it funny. “You know?”

She hoped the look she gave him was unimpressed. “That you and Charity used to be a thing? Yes, we all know.”

“Ah.”

“Maggie was the first one to figure it out,” she explained, crossing her arms in a way she knew was defensive, but still couldn’t help. Her thoughts and feelings regarding Charity were complicated to say the least. Thanks to the Elder, Macy had her powers and her sisters. She couldn’t say for certain she’d been this close to them if it hadn’t been for the constant danger and unique circumstances.

It was also because of Charity that Macy had Harry in her life now. Charity had been the one, after all, to assign Harry to the Charmed Ones. Without that decision he would have forever been a one night stand Macy dreamed about but could never have again.

On the other hand, Charity was all the things Macy wasn’t. Successful, worldly, confident. And to top it all off, she was also Harry’s ex. An ex who was a witch. Which made Macy wonder, what did all that make her? A second choice? Another bad decision?

Maybe Harry was a rule breaker, and she was handy.

And she was spiraling.

“Were you planning on telling me?” Macy finally asked.

“Eventually,” he admitted, glancing in the direction of the living room. “Though I hadn’t quite figured out how to go about it.”

Macy walked closer to him, anger bubbling to the surface. Ah, that’s what the thing which had felt like jealousy was. When she had realized she hadn’t been Harry’s first witch it had hit her like a punch to the gut, but she figured Harry would tell her, Harry would explain. But they had known Charity for months now, and he hadn’t said a word.

“You told me whitelighter and witch relationships were forbidden, and now I know you’ve been in one before? What do you expect me to do with that?”

“I don’t expect anything,” he said in the calming voice which right now made her want to step on his foot. “But if you’d like, I can explain.”

Macy thought about Charity in the next room, about how ten minutes ago she’d been full of hope and wonder at having Christmas with her sisters. She shook her head, “Now’s not the time. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Macy –“ but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the doorbell going off once again. “Who else is here?”

“I got it,” Maggie announced loudly. Macy moved around the counter to peak into the hallway, wondering if it was going to be another elder dropping by to say hi. Instead, it was Parker at the door, his hands full with bags.

When she turned around, she saw Harry just inches away from her. She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back a step. “We should probably keep our distance while your ex is here.”

“Macy-“

She shook her head, “Later, Harry.”

Walking into the hallway she saw Maggie oohing and aahing over a necklace Parker had apparently given her. It was beautiful, and old enough to look like an antique. “Oh my god, hold on, I want to get something from my room.”

“You don’t want to put it on?” Parker asked.

“Hold on,” she hurried up the steps and Macy stood awkwardly with Parker in the entry until Maggie came back down with a small box in her hand. “Voila!”

Macy looked down and saw a jewelry box in her hands, silver with beautiful filigree and a little gemstone on the clasp. It was startling to see, because just minutes ago she’d been watching herself open almost an exact replica from Santa.

“Where did you get that?” Macy asked, her voice a little harsher than she’d intended.

Maggie smiled, her face soft and warm with memories. “From Mom, it was tradition.”

“Tradition?” Macy asked carefully.

“Mom got one when she was ten,” Mel explained, appearing from the living room. “And in it was her first grown up piece of jewelry; we each got one when we were ten. I got a necklace.”

“I got a bracelet,” Maggie added. “The clasp broke ages ago and I never got it fixed. Are you okay, Macy?”

“Yeah,” Macy blinked, her heart clenching tightly in her chest so she could barely breathe. “I just need a minute.”

She walked away and stepped outside, the cold biting and real on her skin.

“Macy?”

Turning, she saw her sisters standing the freezing temperature. “You guys should go inside, it’s freezing.”

Both of them ignored her. Instead, Mel walked close enough to put her hand on Macy’s arm. “Is everything okay? You looked a little pale inside.”

“It was the jewelry box, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry, I know you never got presents from Mom. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s just the opposite, actually.” Maggie and Mel lowered their brows in the exact same way. Macy pulled her phone out of her pocket, the video she’d been watching still open in the background. “Look.”

Her younger sisters huddled together and watched the video, both of them gasping at the same time as little Macy opened her present from Santa.

“It’s just like ours.”

“Different gemstone,” Mel pointed. “Mine is sapphire. Mom said it would help with focus and inner vision.”

“Mine is rose quartz which is supposed to help with compassion and divinity.” Maggie tilted her head and smile, “I think Mom knew what our powers were going to be. What was yours?”

“Purple tourmaline,” Macy answered because the first thing she’d done after getting the present was look it up. As a kid she hadn’t put much stock in what stones meant but she’d come across the explanation in her search, and it had always stuck with her. “Balance and self-confidence.”

“I was right.” Maggie grinned and laughed softly when Macy and Mel looked at her. “Santa is real. Mom was your Santa.”

“I always thought Gram was the one who helped Dad pick out my present.” Macy put a hand over her heart. “But it was Mom.”

They were all silent for a moment as they took in the knowledge. Her mom had been there the whole time, in the background. But why? “Do you still have yours?”

“Yeah, in storage. I didn’t exactly unpack at my Air B&B.”

“You should bring your stuff home,” Mel all but ordered. Macy wasn’t offended by the tone, knew that was how her sister expressed affection. “You’ve been here for months, it’s time to unpack, Macy.”

Macy looked up and inside the house, knew Harry was in there somewhere. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

“While we’ve got a minute, what did Charity want?”

Mel looked like she was thinking about lying but sighed heavily. “She wants me to join the Sarcana. I texted Jada and she wants to come over today to officially join.”

Both Macy and Maggie stepped forward at the same time. “Are you sure?”

Macy couldn’t imagine what joining the Sarcana might entail. “Mel, that’s an incredibly dangerous endeavor.”

“If they were a part of Mom’s death, I want to know, and this is the only way to find out. I’ll be safe,” she promised. “And I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re going now?”

“I guess the Sarcana don’t care much about Christmas Eve,” Mel shrugged. “I’ll let you guys know when I’m on my way back.”

“Have Harry take you,” Macy insisted. “He can pick you up when you’re done.”

Mel thought about it. “I’ll have him drop me off nearby. I don’t know how they’d feel about a whitelighter dropping in on their secret clubhouse. Harry!”

Instead of poofing next to them, he stepped out onto the patio as if he’d been within ear shot. “You bellowed?”

Mel ignored his sarcasm. “Can you take me to just outside the Sarcana?”

“Take you where?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I’m joining the Sarcana,” Mel explained. Before he could argue she put up her hand. “Don’t patronize me, Harry. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, Melanie.”

“Nothing I can do about that Hare,” she smirked and in an instant they were gone.

“Do you think it’s weird to leave your boyfriend and an Elder in the house by themselves?” Macy asked.

“Oh, shit!” Maggie turned on her heel and hurried back inside. Because there wasn’t much else to do, Macy followed at a slower pace, and just barely caught Maggie apologizing to their guests. “I’m so sorry about that, sister thing. Parker, thank you so much for the necklace, it’s beautiful.”

“Charity,” Macy managed a smile and hoped it was convincing. “Can I get you something to drink? Some Coquito?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Macy turned around and headed back towards the kitchen where the drink was in the fridge. “Where did Harry go?”

“He took Mel to the Sarcana so she wouldn’t be gone long. And if she needs backup, he’ll be close to pull her out.”

Charity smiled, “Harry was made to be a white knight.”

“Mhm.” Macy poured the drink and handed it to Charity. “Be careful, it’s strong.”

Charity nodded and took a small drink. “It was nice of you to include Harry in your festivities.”

Macy wondered at Charity’s tone, but she couldn’t decipher it. She was always so self-assured it made it difficult to detect anything else in her voice. “Harry’s family, of course we’d include him.”

“Mhm.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and was grateful when Maggie brought Parker into the kitchen. “Parker has never tried coquito.”

“Until an hour ago, neither had I,” Macy reminded her with a smile.

“Here,” Charity slid the pitcher towards Parker, their hands bumping slightly when he moved to pick it up. Parker hissed like something caused him pain and in that quick instant there was a flash of blue light coming from the broach on Charity’s shirt. It looked oddly like the mark Macy had seen on Galvin.

When her gaze slid over to Parker he looked shocked, almost as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Are you okay?” Maggie asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

And seeming to remember he was in pain, Parker doubled over and groaned again. “Yeah, just side effects. I’ll be fine.”

Maggie wrapped her arm around his middle. “Come on, you should sit down.”

Macy watched Maggie lead Parker away, concerned and confused by what she’d just seen.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Macy pushed her own cup of coquito away. “I think I need to stop with the alcohol.”

After a few minutes Macy went outside again, debating on whether or not to call Mama Roz to see if she could share any knowledge about Parker or the light radiating from Charity when the two touched. But if she called Mama Roz, then she’d have to explain everything, and she was pretty sure that was a no-no.

So what was she going to do?

“Hi Mama Roz, my sister’s boyfriend flinched when he touched someone and there was a magicky glow. What’s up with that?”

Macy groaned and turned back towards the house. She’d ask Harry, maybe he might-

And then everything went black.

 When Macy came back to the world, her head was killing her, her mouth was dry, and her shoulders hurt.

She groaned, or tried to until she realized there was a gag in her mouth. With a wince she opened her eyes to realize she was in the back shed, and her arms were tied up behind her. Shifting on the chair she tested the ropes, but there was no give, and she was worried about toppling herself over and breaking something if she moved too much.

If she could get rid of the gag, she could call for Harry.

It took longer than she’d like, and she panicked about halfway through, She tried distracting herself by trying to remember all the presents she’d gotten from Santa over the years, long after she’d stopped believing. When she’d asked her father about it, he’d insisted he had no control over Santa, the presents came whether anyone want them to or not. He’d smiled a little sadly at that, and Macy understood it now.

Her mother had insisted.

Panic subsiding, she was finally she able to push the cloth out of her mouth. “Harry! I need you!”

It took longer than normal for him to show up, and when he did his Christmas sweater was askew, and he looked in pain. “You just…” he waved his hand as if she had any idea what he might be talking about.

“Some help, please?”

“Right, of course.” He moved across the room and worked the knots free and she breathed a sigh of relief when the circulation returned to her hands.

She stood up the moment she could, getting feeling back in her legs. “What’s going on out there? What happened to you?”

“Someone has been pretending to be you.”

The statement was said so matter-of-factly it took a moment for Macy to understand what she’d just said. “What?”

“And then they threw me out the window.”

Macy stepped closer and put her hands on him, checking for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, though she didn’t completely believe him. Who fell out of a three-story window and was fine? He was a whitelighter, not invincible. “Who was it that grabbed you?”

She tried to remember but had only caught a flash of a reflection in the window. “I didn’t recognize him.”

Harry tugged her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, she briefly struggled against the hold. “The elders.”

“Bugger them.” He rested his cheek against her temple. “You know, I always thought we’d eventually have a fight, but I did think you’d be included when that happened. And I didn’t think there would be an actual fight involved.”

Macy chuckled against his chest.

 Christmas was nearly over.

Macy sat down on the couch, and since Harry had said ‘bugger them’ she leaned against his side as Mel and Maggie settled across from them. She slipped her hand into his as she stared at her crying sister, trying to decide on the best thing to say. “Well, um, it’s past midnight. I know it’s probably hard to get into the Christmas Spirit, but…”

“We could open presents,” Mel finished for her.

At Maggie’s tearful nod, Harry spoke up. “My three small offerings are under the tree.”

Macy sat up straight and looked at Harry, surprised at the gesture, and yet not. “Harry, that’s so sweet.”

“I’ll go get us some more coquito.”

As Mel got up, Macy leaned forward. “I’m still kind of new at this whole sister thing, is there anything I can do, Maggie?”

“No, but thanks.” She tilted her head and gestured to them, “So this is official?”

“It is for now,” Macy answered, mostly because she was too tired to get up.

“There are a lot of things we have to work through.”

“And conversations to have,” Macy added. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about Charity.”

Maggie’s smile was a little watery, but it looked slightly happier than it had been a moment ago. “Oh, the ex talk. That’s always fun.”

“Why don’t you pick out some presents, Maggie?” Harry suggested.

“That wasn’t even subtle, Harry.”

He smiled at her. “It wasn’t supposed to be, Margarita.”

“Guys, we drank all the coquito.”

“Ho ho ho.” At the voice, one which was newly familiar, Macy and her family stood and turned towards the sound and she was shocked to see Hunter standing in their living room. “Merry Christmas. You’ve been very naughty girls this year. Santa’s going to make you pay.”

He stepped forward, menacing and clearly intent on doing harm. Macy glanced around for something she could use as a weapon, anything which she could throw at him to give her and her sisters a fighting chance. But before she could summon anything a shadow appeared amongst them and stepped forward.

Parker formed from the darkness, a gold staff in his hand. “They’re not the ones who are going to pay. “Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

When he slammed the staff down onto the ground it felt as if the whole house shook beneath their feet. Macy reached out to grab onto Harry, but he’d slid a few feet away from her and was bracing himself on one of the armchairs.

Parker repeated the words, slammed the staff down one more time. “Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

The floorboards moved like a wave, shivering and falling back into place as Hunter vowed retribution. Parker picked up the rod again, but started coughing halfway through the first word, his brother’s voice mocking him.

Macy was frozen in surprise, but Mel took charge, stepping forward to take the staff and repeating the words Parker had spoken.

“Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

As she moved to help her sister, Macy caught Harry out of the corner of her eye. The shaking and moving of the floor had sent him falling to the ground, but he was safely out of Hunter’s reach so they picked up the staff again and again, repeating the words with more confidence each time as they slammed it down.

They had no idea what they were doing, but they knew Hunter didn’t want it - Which meant it was something the Charmed Ones did.

“Temelechus, deschide poarta.”

“The portal to Tartarus!” Harry yelled as the floor gave way, and a dangerously bright orange flow emanated from beneath. Even from this distance, Macy wanted to run from it, but she held on with her sisters, instinctively knowing they had to repeat the phrase until Hunter was safely trapped below.

Hunter felt the ground, slid across the floor as if something from beneath had grabbed onto him and was pulling him below.

Too late, Macy realized Harry was in danger too.

Hunter had grabbed his leg and was dragging him towards the entrance, and even though she knew it was stupid and reckless, she couldn’t risk Harry.

Macy let go of the staff and ran towards the gaping chasm in the middle of their house. She ran towards him, towards danger, and she had fingertips on him when his grip finally slipped.

“Harry!”

But the floor was back, the chasm gone, along with Harry.

[theorynexus]

Time to Continue with part 83!

Dave is correct. Such matters are never simple. The ways of the heart are extremely complex, and while it wants what it wants, whether it has the heart to actually go through with whatever that is is an entirely different matter altogether. But that, and the wonderful weird silliness aside, I believe Dave was suggesting that there was more to it insofar as there are other factors than just his own “gay awakening” involved with the current difficulties. We shall see just what they are, and how much they have to do with Jade... now.

100% on the money. I am not sure that technically qualifies as incestuous, though, my man.   I am also not 100% sure that you are correct in this matter, other than the fact that it may make her rambunctious and more confident that she is playing a successful role as whatever strange matchmaking hate girlfriend she envisions herself as.  (Not that I don’t think that humans could successfully play the part of a kismesis; rather, I am simply nooot sure Jade is actually doing well at it, or that she has quite the “stuff” for it, at this point. We’ll see.)

***laughs hysterically at this wonderful awkwardness***

That she has.  And honestly, from a Trollish lens, it would seem that she’s had the “hots” for Karkat’s black concupiscent quadrant for quite some time, as well.  (Man, that is sortof weird of her, to go out of her way to exclaim that to John... .    Especially with the distance between her and accomplishing that goal. You’d think she’d at least want to get them to show some interest before doing that.  Does seem very puppy-like of her, though. Hmm~)

Honestly, John is right in that thought.  Mind you, trying might not be the worst idea in ideal circumstances (because at least he could say he tried, and it wasn’t working out for him; thus hopefully become able to get Jade not to push further, and salvage the friendships of everyone involved), but at this point, it’s honestly a great big gamble for Dave. He doesn’t have much romantic experience, and he’s not really sure 100% what he wants.  Not only that, he clearly feels pressured and uncertain with regards to the matter, and that is not a good point to embark on any relationship.  It leaves the door open for all kinds of potential abuse, because things aren’t starting out with firmly established boundaries and the necessary mutual respect for the desires of each person involved upon which all healthy romances are founded.  If it were me, I would most certainly advise against Dave bending to the pressure from Jade like this. If she wanted to make a potential situation between the three of them work out, Jade needs to understand that patience will need to be involved. She’s immortal, Dave’s immortal, and while Karkat may not be, they do have quite a bit of time before they’ll have to worry about him aging too much to make it work, I’m sure.  This is simply a horrible mistake from all parties involved, if it’s going to swing into effect as things are now.   Of course, mistakes do not have to be totally damning, and learning from them is necessary for growth, so... we’ll see how things work out.

...  I guess Megalodon MIGHT have technically been classified as a paleolithic megafauna, technically, though its existence mostly extended much further back.   I do appreciate his continued enthusiasm about paleontology, though, and I understand that his metaphors can get convoluted and distracted, though.  On that note?:   Is that reference to the Meg supposed to be an association with Karkat’s mouth, and how his teeth are apparently quite disorganized, sometimes sticking out of said mouth when it’s supposed to be shut?   I mean, that DOES give a bit of a shark-like image.  To be fair, though: no. It was to eat whales, not other sharks. Big Game Hunter. (I really do appreciate the double meaning of his last line of the above quote.  His uncertainty and circuitous path through the conversation really does show how anxious love can make a person, especially when things are rocky.)

I don’t necessarily think that that is correct---   that is to say, I am not sure that e actually was “leading her on” by dodging the issue for so long.  This would require him to imply he did in fact have that same sort of desires as her, or at least that he was willing to reciprocate.  Based on what we’ve seen, at the very least, I am not sure that he has actually done that. (Man, it must have been weird for Game Over Continuity!Dave to see Davepeta once they joined the fight--- to know on some level that he could sense something familiar, there, but to have no idea what the heck was going on with them~) That said... no. I’m not certain that even if he had been leading her on (that is to say, showing interest, but never committing), he would actually owe it to her unless he had been using that to exploit her in some way.  Particularly, if this was done because he was uncertain if he’d be able to go through with anything, and then he then decided/will have decided to just tell her he’s not interested, I don’t think that this would be wrong at all.  Certainly, she’d have good reason to be upset, but while she’d have lost a significant deal of time, at least he’d be being true to himself instead of potentially doing her, himself, and Karkat greater harm by forcing himself into something that has a good chance of failure+painful consequences. Sorry if this seems overly negative. It’s just... these are not the ideal circumstances, and honestly it’s sortof making me uncomfortable.

(H3H3H3~)    Dangit, that “ghosted” business is sortof painful, given the natural association with John’s death in the Meat Epilogue. @w@ I am not 100% sure John’s mind is fully realizing the implied 3 person relationship that is being talked about as a potential possibility, by the way. With the way he’s talking, it makes it sound like he’s saying to use the coin to choose Karkat or Jade, rather than yea or nay to a situation with both of them.   Particularly with the reference to his logic, and the “same chance” business. Either that, or John is sortof wishy-washy and weird, and is in fact not keeping a constant goal/argument/side as he proceeds in this conversation.

It’s beautiful to see Dave suddenly becoming confident, now that it’s in his wheelhouse.   And sortof awkward and sad, seeing John flail about like this.  But he’s always been that sort of silly jokester, so I will embrace this and accept it.

It’s funny how one can get these intuitions about things, yet be unable to properly explain them, at times.   Of course, this rarely happens to me, because I’m a bit of a windbag (joke at Egbert’s expense), and am willing to look up words that may or may not fit in order to help me organize my thoughts, but it *is* certainly a phenomenon which I am familiar with.  Particularly, in the context of attempting to make connections with others, by which they may or may not latch onto and be able to infer the true meaning you’re trying to get at.

... Yeah, that is definitely one of the things being a friend is all about.  And sadly... I think Dave is right.  He probably does need to talk to Dirk.  Not that it is likely to do all that much good. Dirk’s not all that great, as far as Heart players go, and as a brother, he’s been remarkably distant with Dave, but... well, it somehow seems right, even if it’s something dreadful and somewhat repulsive.  Given that Dave is having a hard time figuring this matter out, and he’s not able to properly latch on to John’s nonsense, this is probably the best option.

I mean, it got Caliborn out of a particularly nasty bind, one time.  ;D

Yeah...  I wouldn’t necessarily suggest that “cracked” will apply to all situations, but having someone who knows and understands you-- how vibrates on the same wave-length, you might say --is absolutely necessary for some issues.

This is incredibly silly. I don’t think that is appropriate on the part of the proprietor, all things considered.  Moreover, it strikes me as curious insofar as I don’t think anyone ever came to try and help them order?    I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t understand how the fanciest restaurants work.  Or something might have happened while John was gone.  Them noticing he was gone probably had something to do with it, but... still pretty ridiculous, regardless.  I mean, who even kicks out a pair of gods? XD

(Super cute.)

How very true.   Time is something difficult to properly hold onto even in the best of times. That one is unequipped to do something that might make a difference does not necessarily mean it’s your fault that bad things happened. For example: one should not blame terrified bystanders for not mobbing a lone gunman in a mass shooting and forcibly stopping them before anything can happen, or at least partway through.  At times, life will present you with barriers of that sort that are almost impossible to overcome, and one has to think of what can be done for the future, rather than dwelling on the past. Of course, the cataclysm is in Dave’s future at this moment, and John could technically do a whole lot of other things to make events work out; yet as the narrative subtly suggests, while the possibility technically exists, it may not be something that is feasible--- for not only is Gamzee’s presence passively screwing with everything, now (and in particular, messing with characters’ abilities to make important choices well, probably), but there is the issue of the narrator potentially manipulating things, as well.   If they are being subtle enough, rather than trying to force certain actions like Dirk did at certain points, it is difficult to oppose such a being’s control. Man, I wish I knew for certain who was doing said narration, right now.

>:

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

The Rook. By Daniel O’Malley. New York: Back Bay Books, 2012.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: urban fantasy, paranormal

Part of a Series? Yes, The Chequy Files #1

Summary: "The body you are wearing used to be mine." So begins the letter Myfanwy Thomas is holding when she awakes in a London park surrounded by bodies all wearing latex gloves. With no recollection of who she is, Myfanwy must follow the instructions her former self left behind to discover her identity and track down the agents who want to destroy her. She soon learns that she is a Rook, a high-ranking member of a secret organization called the Chequy that battles the many supernatural forces at work in Britain. She also discovers that she possesses a rare, potentially deadly supernatural ability of her own. In her quest to uncover which member of the Chequy betrayed her and why, Myfanwy encounters a person with four bodies, an aristocratic woman who can enter her dreams, a secret training facility where children are transformed into deadly fighters, and a conspiracy more vast than she ever could have imagined.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, body horror

Overview: I can’t quite remember how this book fell under my radar, but it seemed like an interesting premise, so I gave it a go. Initially, it started out as a 4 star read for me - I liked the humor, the worldbuilding, and the dynamics between the main character’s pre- and post-amnesia self. Over time, however, this dropped to a three star, mostly because I felt like the tone never changed to fit the gravity of the situation, and the mystery in general was somewhat of a letdown. Still, I think that anyone who liked more light-hearted fantasy or dark humor might enjoy this book, so I recommend reading it for yourself if you’re not into grimdark supernatural worlds.

Writing: O’Malley’s prose is fitting for the type of book he’s trying to write. It’s fairly economical, and focuses more on evoking a humorous, snarky tone than an eerie atmosphere. While some may enjoy the humor and snark, I personally found it to be a double edged sword: I liked that O’Malley kept the mood light and avoided reveling in the darker aspects of his fantasy world, but I also don’t think emotionally heavy moments were given enough weight. Characters would crack jokes or be snarky at inappropriate times, often in ways that sabotaged their own goals, and it seemed like O’Malley was trying to make scenes more awkward or funny than was plausible.

I also think there were some throw-away lines or scenes that really showcased that this book was a man writing about a woman. It wasn’t so bad that it made me want to put the book down (I don’t think O’Malley was being sexist or anything, more like he was trying to be funny and the joke just didn’t land for me), it was annoying to read about Myfanwy thinking about her breasts, or about an invasive gynocological exam (even if one made sense in context, I didn’t need to be reminded that doctors were poking around in Myfanwy’s vagina).

I do think that O’Malley made a good decision by having a lot of his infodumps take the form of a letter or “encyclopedia entry.” Pre-amnesia Myfanwy writes letters and explanations of her job, her colleagues, etc. to help post-amnesia Myfanwy make sense of the supernatural world around her. Though I sometimes found reading all these texts to be exhausting, I do think that if an author is going to provide so much background information, he/she/they should do so in an interesting way that makes sense in context. The letters and entries, in my opinion, made sense in the context of the narrative, and O’Malley also made the task of writing all those things feel like something pre-amnesia Myfanwy would do.

Plot: The main plot follows Myfanwy Thomas, an administrator of sorts who loses her memory while investigating the return of her employer’s major supernatural enemy and its infiltration into their ranks. I really liked the idea of a post-amnesiac trying to pick up the pieces of her old life while keeping her amnesia under wraps just in case those closest to her are traitors, and I liked that readers able to learn about the world along with the main character.

However, I do think that not enough suspense or urgency was placed on the plot. Myfanwy didn’t seem to be in a rush to find out who had erased her memories and who tried to kill her, and scenes didn’t necessarily build on one another in a way that felt like a mystery was unfolding. For example, Myfanwy uncovers one traitor seemingly by accident, and doesn’t really bother to press them for more information when they let slip that there’s more to uncover. I wanted to follow Myfanwy as she uncovered more and more clues, but it seemed like a lot of things were happening at random until the end, when she solves the mystery and we get several pages of monologue that explains how everything happened behind the scenes (rather than on the page). I was kind of let down, to be honest, because I didn’t feel like I was being given the opportunity to guess what was going on myself.

I also wish a little more had been done with the letters past-Myfanwy wrote to present-Myfanwy. There was a sweetness to them, as past-Myfanwy seems to have great sympathy for her future self and expresses a lot of fear regarding what’s going to happen. But mostly, the letters served as infodumps, and I wish they had been used - at least sometimes - to spur some emotional growth in present-Myfanwy, or had mirrored what was going on in the present day more closely.

I also wish there had been a little more drama at the Chequy - the supernatural organization where Myfanwy works. Post-amnesia Myfanwy seems to be able to walk in and play her part with no one the wiser, which was a little implausible given that her personality is drastically different from before her amnesia and she’s so awkward that it was a wonder no one suspected something was amiss. I wanted to be a little more concerned that someone would figure out that Myfanwy was without her memory, and that it posed a threat to Myfanwy’s life. Instead, that never seemed to be an issue, just a pretense for a lot of awkwardness.

Characters: Myfanwy, our heroine, is essentially two different people before and after her amnesia. Pre-amnesia Myfanwy is shy, quiet, and something of a Type A personality who never uses her supernatural abilities unless it’s an emergency. Post-amnesia Myfanwy is assertive, snarky, and uses her abilities more liberally. Both, however, are extremely good at managing teams and keeping track of mountains of administrative paperwork. I liked that O’Malley turned “administration” into a useful skill - I feel like too often, female characters are only seen as useful if they can fight, and while Myfanwy does some of that, she also makes clear that it is her administrative abilities that make the difference in all kinds of situations. I do wish Myfanwy’s wisecracking was turned down a little, though, as it seemed to be inappropriate at times. I also wish Myfanwy had undergone more character development; she doesn’t change much over the course of the novel, except to realize that she likes her job. I wanted a little more out of her, not just a wisecracking boss who can take charge of a situation before stumbling her way through a fairly simple investigation.

The most interesting characters, at least for me, were the other members of the Chequy. The Chequy is run by a “Court,” which is made up of highly ranked officials with supernatural powers. I liked the creativity that O’Malley showed when designing them - Gestalt is a single consciousness in 4 bodies, Aldrich is a vampire, Eckhart is a chain-smoking military veteran who can control metal, etc. I do wish more was done with these characters to make their motivations more clear or more important to the overall narrative, and I wish they were a little more intelligent (they never suspect anything is amiss with Myfanwy, and even they can’t figure out anything useful about their enemy, despite Myfanwy practically stumbling onto information at random).

Myfanwy does have some female friends that I think could have been more interesting. Ingrid, her personal assistant, is something of a confidant, and I wish more had been done with that relationship to explore things like the tension between powered and non-powered people in the Chequy. Shantay, an official from the American branch of the Chequy, also had a lot of potential, and I liked that she and Myfanwy became fast friends (though I do think they dropped their professionalism a little too quickly). I wish Shantay had stuck around longer, perhaps to balance out Myfanwy’s flaws and shortcomings. Bronwyn, Myfanwy’s sister, should have been more important than she was. Bronwyn tracks down her sister after living her entire life knowing that the government took her away, and I think there’s a devotedness in that that wasn’t fully taken advantage of. The sisters’ reunion wasn’t very emotional, and Bronwyn mainly acted as a liability for when Myfanwy was threatened by her enemies.

Speaking of which, the big bad of the book - a group called the Grafters - were hardly impressive. While I liked the idea of the Chequy going up against people who could alter bodies and create monsters that resisted supernatural powers, the Grafters seemed to be invisible for most of the book, never showing themselves but sending agents to do their dirty work. I never really understood what the Grafters wanted or why they were doing things, so they felt less like a threat and more like a simple bad group of people that does bad things.

TL;DR: The Rook has an interesting premise and some creative worldbuilding, but ultimately suffers from a lack of a driving plot and too much concern with its own cleverness.

[nicnacsnonsense]

@saretton was talking about a Cyrano de Bergerac AU earlier and y’all I got carried away again. Basic backstory here is Crowley is Cyrano, Aziraphale is Christian, and Anathema is Roxane. Crowley is in love with Aziraphale (obv) and Aziraphale has convinced himself he’s in love with Anathema because of internalized homophobia. The turning point in the story is when Anathema turns Aziraphale down in favor of Newt and Aziraphale realizes he’s actually rather relieved and maybe he wasn’t all that into her after all., Then Anathema points out all the things Aziraphale has been saying to her and writing to her (words that he is getting from Crowley) sound like they’re actually intended for someone other than her. Aziraphale does some thinking and concludes that Crowley is in love with someone, which is problematic because Aziraphale is actually in love with Crowley. Anyway, I wrote the very end scene where they finally get together because I’m Azcrow trash and have no self-control. Here you go:

“What brings you to my humble abode, angel?” Crowley had sprawled out in his usual position on the settee, and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. The sinewy beauty and easy grace of the man – how had he been so blind as to never notice it before? How was he supposed to go on now that he did? How was he supposed to listen to Crowley call him angel in that tone of casual fondness without losing all control over himself and doing something that would ruin their friendship forever?

“Aziraphale?” Crowley prompted.

Aziraphale shook himself and took a seat in the armchair he always sat in, the one he’d come to think of as his in the back of his mind. “My apologies; I was lost in thought for a moment,” he said. “I stopped by because I spoke with Miss Device yesterday afternoon.”

Crowley tensed. It was a subtle movement, but Aziraphale was watching too closely to miss it. He assumed it was out of concern for Aziraphale; the meeting yesterday had not been one they had anticipated, so Crowley had been unable to help Aziraphale prepare for it. “How did that go?”

“She informed me that while she values our friendship and is flattered by and appreciates the overtures I’ve made of late, she bears no romantic feelings toward me and has instead decided to accept the suit of Newton Pulsifer.”

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said, genuine regret lacing his voice. “I know you love her.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Aziraphale said, and in the light of a new day it did seem funny. One of those casual anecdotes about an embarrassing moment some years past and oh, wasn’t I foolish? “I don’t love her; I don’t think I ever did. That is, I certainly return her sentiments regarding our friendship, but beyond that my infatuation stemmed more from the idea of her as the sort of person I ought to be in love with than any genuine feeling.”

“It certainly seemed genuine enough,” Crowley remarked archly. A fair enough attitude as he as certainly suffered the brunt of Aziraphale’s misguided infatuation.

“It seemed so to me as well, but I have a rather marvelous gift for self-deception I’m discovering. Though I suspect deep down part of me must have known, which is why I failed so abysmally at expressing it.” He was quite certain of that in fact. Because looking at Crowley now Aziraphale felt he could write sonnet upon sonnet, pages and pages and pages of love letters. He would go on his knees before Crowley and spill his heart out in hundreds of thousands of eloquently-spun words if he thought it would do any good.

Aziraphale sighed. “It all worked out for the best, I suppose, and I do wish the two of them happiness. I very much appreciate all the help you’ve given me throughout this endeavor, regardless of how it ended.”

“Of course,” Crowley said easily. “I’d do anything for you angel, just say the word.”

Aziraphale’s smile faltered for a moment, but he reclaimed it by forcing himself to take Crowley’s offer in the congenial spirit it was offered and to ignore how differently Crowley might feel if he knew of Aziraphale’s unnatural desires. “Thank you. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Really, don’t play coy. When we were speaking yesterday Miss Device pointed out how most of the things you wrote for me to give her actually sounded as though they were written with someone else in mind entirely. You’re in love.”

Crowley bolted up in alarm. “That’s not—I didn’t— Don’t be angry ange— Aziraphale. Nothing has to change; I just—“

“Don’t be absurd, Crowley. Of course I’m not angry. Well, perhaps a little hurt you didn’t think to mention that you’d fallen in love, but I understand some people finds these kinds of things difficult to talk about. I don’t hold it against you. As for nothing changing…” Aziraphale found he could no longer stand to look at Crowley, so ducked his head and watched his hands gently wringing in his lap. “Things should change. I read everything you wrote and heard all the words you said; it’s clear how deeply you feel for this woman. You should tell her— no, I insist that you tell her how you feel. There’s no way she’ll turn you down with how beautifully you express yourself. I realize my experience with Miss Device might not be exactly confidence-building in that regard, but I’m sure your lady will be able to sense the genuineness of your feelings. And of course if there’s anything I can do to help, I—“

Crowley kissed him.

Aziraphale barely had time to register what was happening before Crowley pulled away again. At some point he must have risen from the settee and was now knelt on the ground in front of Aziraphale, gazing upon him as earnestly reverent as any man at worship.

Aziraphale felt like he’d been hit by a runaway carriage. All those lines, all the little clues to the identity of the woman Crowley loved that Aziraphale had seen, but had been unable to puzzle out. They were all about him. “You’re in love with me,” he breathed.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale’s knees and pulled them away again, as light as a butterfly. When Aziraphale didn’t protest, Crowley set them back down, his long fingers curled tight as though he feared Aziraphale might bolt any second. “I meant what I said. Nothing has to change. Just let me stay by your side as your friend. Let me stay in your life. All I’m asking for is just the smallest, most insignificant crumb of you, and I swear to you I will never—“

Aziraphale kissed him.

Crowley seemed too shocked at first to respond, but Aziraphale continued the kiss until Crowley, tentatively at first and then with more and more fervor, returned the gesture. Aziraphale straightened back up, gently guiding Crowley along with him until they were both in the chair with Crowley astride Aziraphale’s lap. Crowley’s hands were fisted in Aziraphale’s shirt as he desperately tried to pull them even closer together. Aziraphale’s own hands were resting on Crowley’s shoulders, but after a minute he daringly reached up to run one through Crowley’s fine fire-strand hair. Crowley whined into Aziraphale’s mouth. He broke the kiss and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, ripping his glasses off and tossing them across the room to do it.

Aziraphale held Crowley in his arms, one hand still gently carding Crowley’s hair, and marveled at the turn his life had taken. An hour ago this was something he believed he would never have. A day ago this was something he had never even knew he wanted. And now here he was. At that exact moment he decided that the world was wrong about these feelings. How could they be anything but good and right when he felt so blessed?

Crowley mumbled something into Aziraphale’s neck. “What was that?” Aziraphale asked. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Crowley turned his head slightly. “I said, is this real?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice choked with emotion. He urged Crowley up to look at him and, oh, there was the reason for the glasses. Because Crowley’s eyes were so expressive. There was so much love there, Aziraphale felt he was drowning in it. And alongside the love there was hope, cautious and terrified, but hope.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated. “My darling. My dearest. My closest and truest companion. My love, my light, my joy. My heart’s only.” Aziraphale watched as with each endearment the hope in Crowley’s eyes brightened. Crowley had gifted Aziraphale with so many beautiful words, and though Aziraphale hadn’t always listened as closely as he should have, he’d heard them all. And now it wa time he shared some of his own with Crowley. He leaned forward and spoke directly into Crowley’s ear:

“I confess this to you now, my dear,

The strangest truth I have.

Because you have always seen more clear,

Than I myself ever have.

I feel the warmth of you in my arms.

You scent is far too dear to be faked.

I wish to keep you here safe from all harms,

And to always bestow upon you more love than I take.

  The beauty of your eyes–”

Here Crowley made a noise of protest. Aziraphale hushed him and continued.

“The beauty of your eyes,

Burnt amber in the light,

Is far greater than imagining could provide.

My mind would never get it right.

  These sensations are far too vivid,

For this to be a dream.

But the joy here is far more fervid,

Than I have ever experienced in reality.

  I no longer know what is true,

And would not care if I did.

For either I find myself here with you,

Or we lie together dreaming instead.”

For a long moment Crowley said nothing, and Aziraphale began to get nervous. “I know it’s not as good as the ones you wrote. Some of the rhymes were dreadful and I’m sure the meter was all wrong and—“

Crowley gently cupped Aziraphale’s face. “I think you’re right. This is too perfect to be anything but a dream.” He kissed Aziraphale, long and slow and deep. “So let’s never wake up.”