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generallypo · 4 years

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“I heard your voice, so I came... Aoba-san.”

Hooo-boy, if that doesn’t get me emotional every single time. Call it my bias for eccentric bundles of sunshine and softness, or my crippling weakness for the secretly-handsome-and-devastatingly-earnest type, but you can’t change my mind: Clear is, hands down, DMMD’s best love interest. Character development-wise, thematically, romantically, he nails every trial thrown at him, gets his man, and proceeds to break your heart in the tenderest, sincerest way possible. I am hopping with Huge Fan Energy, so this post is gonna be unapologetically long and self-indulgent and grossly enthusiastic. Yeeeee.

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Look, DMMD meta analysis has been done to death, I get it. This game is old. But I think it stands as testament to its excellent production that it’s still a game worth revisiting years later — especially during these times when social contact is so hard pressed to come by and we all rabidly devour digital media like a horde of screeching feral gremlins. (Have you seen Netflix’s stock value now? The exploding MMO server populations? Astonishing.) It’s pure, simple human nature to want to connect, to cling to members of our network out of biological imperative and our psychological dependency on each other. As cold and primitive at that sounds, social contact also fulfills us on a higher level: the community is always stronger than the individual; genuine trust begets a mutually supportive relationship of exchange and evolution. People learn from each other, and grow into stronger, wiser, better versions of themselves.

Yeah, I’m being deliberately obtuse about this. Of course I’m talking about Clear. Clear, who is a robot. Clear, who is nearly childlike in his insatiable curiosity regarding the human condition.

And it’s a classic literary tactic, using non-human entities to question the intangible constructs of a concept like ‘humanity’ — think Frankenstein, or Tokyo Ghoul, or Detroit: Become Human, among so, so many works in various media — all tackling that question from countless angles, all with varying measures of success. What does it mean to be human? To be good? Who are we, and where do we stand in the grand scheme of things? Is there even a scheme to follow? … Wait, what?

Jokes aside, there are so many ways that the whole approaching-human-yet-not-quite-there schtick can be abused into edgy, joyless existential griping. Nothing wrong with that if it’s what you’re looking for, except that we’re talking about a boys’ love game here. But DMMD neatly, sweetly side steps that particular wrinkle, giving us a wonderfully grounded character to work with as a result.

Character Design — a see-through secret

Let’s start small: Clear’s design and premise. Unlike so many other lost, clueless robo-lambs across media, Clear does have a small guiding presence early on in his life. It takes the form of his grandfather, who teaches Clear about the world while also sheltering him from his origins. It means he learns enough to blend sufficiently into society; it also means that Clear has even more questions that sprout from his limited understanding of the world.

Told that he must never remove his mask lest he expose his identity as a non-human, Clear’s perpetual fear of rejection for what he is drives much of his eccentricity and challenges him throughout much of his route. As for the player, the mystery of what lies underneath his mask is a carrot that the writers get to dangle until the peak moment of emotional payoff. Even if it’s not hard to guess that there’s probably a hottie of legendary proportions stuck under there, there’s still significance in waiting for that good moment to happen. And when it does, it feels great.

His upbringing contextualizes and affirms his odd choice of fashion: deliberately generic, bashfully covered from the public eye, and colored nearly in pure white - the quintessential signal of a blank slate, of innocence. Contrasted with the rest of DMMD’s flashy, colorful crew, Clear is probably the most difficult to read on a superficial scale, not falling into the fiery, bare-chest sex appeal of a womanizer, or the techno-nerd rebel aesthetic that Noiz somehow rocks. Goofy weirdo? Possibly a serial killer? Honestly, both seem plausible at the start.

And that’s the funny thing, because as damn hard as he tries to physically cover himself up from society, Clear is irrepressibly true to his name: transparent to a fault. He’s a walking, talking contradiction, and it’s not hard to realize that this mysterious, masked stranger… is really just an open book. By far the most effusive and straightforward of the entire cast, his actions are wildly unconventional and sometimes wholly inexplicable. But given time to explain himself, he is always, always sincere in his intentions — and unlike the rest of the love interests, naturally inclined to offer bits of himself to Aoba. It doesn’t take the entire character arc to figure out his big, bad secret — our main character gets an inkling about halfway through his route — and what’s even better is that he embraces it, understanding that his abilities also allow him to protect what he cherishes: Aoba.

So what if he doesn’t fit into an easily recognizable box of daydream boyfriend material? He’s contradictory, and contradiction is interesting. Dons a gas mask, but isn’t an edgelord. Blandly dressed, but ridiculously charming. Unreadable and modestly intimidating — until he opens his mouth. Even without the benefit of traversing his route, there’s already so much good stuff to work with, and sure as hell, you’re kept guessing all the way to the end.

Character Development — from reckless devotion into complaisant subservience, complaisant subservience into mutual understanding. And then, of course: free will, and true love.

At its core, DMMD is about a dude with magic mind-melding powers and his merry band of attractive men with — surprise! — crippling emotional baggage. Each route follows the same pattern, simply remixing the individual character interactions and the pace of the program: Aoba finds himself isolated with the love interest, faces various communication issues varying on the scale of frustrating to downright dangerous, wanders into a sketchy section of Platinum Jail, bonds with the love interest over shared duress, breaks into the Oval Tower, faces mental assault by the big bad — and finally, finally, destroys those internal demons plaguing the love interest, releasing the couple onto the path of a real heart-to-heart conversation. And then, you know, the lovey-dovey stuff.

Here’s the thing: as far as romantic progression goes, it’s really not a bad structure. There’s room to bump heads, but also to bond. The Scrap scene is a thematically cohesive and clever way to squeeze in the full breadth of character backstory while simultaneously advancing the plot. In this part, Aoba must become the hero to each of his love interests and save them from themselves. Having become privy to each other’s deepest thoughts and reaching a mutual understanding of each other, their feelings afterwards slide much more naturally into romantic territory. They break free of Oval Tower, make their way home, and have hot, emotionally fulfilling sex or otherwise some variation on the last few steps. The end.

That is, except for Clear.

Clear’s route is refreshing in that he needs none of these things — the climax of his emotional arc actually comes a little after the halfway point of his route. When Clear’s true origins are revealed, he comes entirely clean to Aoba, fighting against his fear of rejection but also trusting that Aoba will listen. It’s a quiet, vulnerable moment, rather than the action-packed tension we normally experience during a Scrap scene.

That doesn’t mean it’s prematurely written in — it simply means that he reaches his potential faster than the other characters. Because of that, he’s free to pursue the next level of his route’s development much, much sooner in the timeline: he overcomes his fears of his appearance, he confesses his love to Aoba, he leaves the confines of a largely dubious master-servant relationship and allows himself to be Aoba’s equal. Clear’s sprite art mirrors his emotional transformation all the way through, exposing him to the literal bone — and Aoba’s affection for him doesn’t change a single bit. Beautiful.

The whammy of incredible moments doesn’t just stop there, though. I don’t exactly recall the order the routes DMMD is ideally meant to be played in, but I believe Clear’s is meant to be last. And if you do, I can guarantee that it becomes a hugely delightful gameplay experience — in order to achieve his good ending, you must do absolutely nothing with Scrap. It doesn’t just subvert our player expectations of proactively clicking and interacting with our love interests; it grabs the story by its thematic reins and yanks it all back to the forefront of our scene.

In every route besides Clear’s, Scrap is a tool used to insert Aoba’s influence into and interfere with his target’s mind. Using his powers of destruction, Aoba is able to prune whatever maligned thoughts are harming his target; in any conventional situation, using Scrap is the right choice.

But one of the central problems in Clear’s route is his conflict between the impulses of his conditioning and his desire to live freely as a human would. Breaking free of Toue’s programming is what initially made him unique; growing beyond the rules imposed by his grandfather is what makes him human. In the final conflict scene, Clear’s decision to destroy his key-lock is an action of true autonomy, made with perfect understanding of the consequences and a sincere, selflessly selfish desire to protect someone he loves. In order to receive his good end, you have to respect his decision. It doesn’t matter which option you pick — by using Scrap, Aoba turns his back on every positive choice he made with Clear and attempts to exert his authority over him. This is Aoba becoming Toue; this is Aoba trying to reinstate himself as ‘Master’ right as he approved Clear as his equal. That’s blatant hypocrisy, and it doesn’t matter if Aoba is trying to do it for Clear’s ‘own good’ — that’s not Aoba’s call to make. If you truly wish to respect Clear’s free will, you will stand by. This is the truth of the moment: Clear has no emotional blockages that Aoba needs to fix. Believe in him, just as he believed in you.

The path to his heart is, and always has been, clear. Scrap was never needed from the start.

While Aoba might be the main character, Clear is undeniably a hero in his own route just as much. Tirelessly earnest and always curious, he leaps headlong into the unknown and emerges with his newfound enlightenment. He’s unafraid of weathering trials, even to the point of accepting death, and returns anew from oblivion to a sweet, cathartic ending. That’s about as textbook hero’s journey as it gets — if that doesn’t make him unquestionably, certifiably, unconditionally human, then I will scream.

And only finally… there is the free end. The final CG is like a throwback to our first impression of him: indistinct, purposefully obscured from proper view. But this time, we know better — and so does Aoba. Looks were never what mattered in Clear’s route. If you were patient, and you were open-minded, and you listened… well, what we realize now is that Clear was doing the exact same thing for you, too.

From a carefree, aimless robot-man with only the gimmick of “eccentric ditz” to carry him forward, we get a supremely more interesting character by the end: a man who has graduated from the well-intentioned but claustrophobic conditioning of his childhood; a weapon who has defied the imperatives placed on him by his creator’s programming; a wanderer who has, through unconditional patience and empathy, discovered love, and striven to become a better person for it. Who was it that ever doubted Clear’s character? He’s the goddamn goodest boy that ever wanted to be a real boy. Of course Clear is human. And in fact, he does it better than every single one of the actually human love interests. You can’t change my mind.

The Romance — kindness is really fucking attractive, okay.

Like I’ve said earlier, I have my Big Fan Blinds stuck on pretty tight. I might be conjuring sparks from thin air. But I think every choice was a deliberate creative decision on the writers’ part, and they deserve all the kudos for it — I’m just the lucky player who gets to enjoy it. But aside from Noiz (who I also think is a perfect darling as well — I could go on and on about him), Clear’s route is a model example for consent and healthy relationships in VN storytelling. This is reciprocated on both sides: never does Aoba infringe on Clear’s boundaries, and neither does Clear. They’re sensitive to each other’s needs and concerns; they ask for permission and stop when it isn’t granted (and when it is, boy do they get frisky — I’m not complaining!) I don’t need to say much more, because I think that consent is both fantastic and yes, incredibly hot (the scene in DMMD is tons more sad, go play Re:connect!). Good writing shows off the massive erotic potential enthusiastic consent puts into intimacy, and Aoba’s and Clear’s relationship is honestly a dream playground. The point is, I think Aoba and Clear genuinely do find equal balance in their relationship by the end of his route (and certainly through Re:connect). If you follow through Re:connect’s storyline, there’s even more thematic richness that comes through in the form of Clear’s greatest asset: communication. The couple get to discuss the long-term implications of them being together; they both offer concerns, points, and assurances to the other, and it’s just a soft, honest moment not so unlike the worries of a real relationship. Hearing is kind of Clear’s motif sense, but it’s really great to see that Aoba also subtly picks it up, really flexes his own communication skills to better engage with Clear.

Point is, Clear’s route spoke to me on a lot of little levels. Design-wise, he’s already got a ton going for him, and his story builds upon it rather than against it, enriching his development and grounding him a little more solidly in the DMMD universe (and in my heart). His route, aside from being emotionally ruinous, carries a pretty solid chunk of world-building (only beaten out by Mink’s and Ren’s, probably), and the romance feels organic, healthy, and realistic. He’s not the only one with an excellent route, but he’s my favorite. If you read through all of this, you’re a real trooper and I’m extremely impressed. Thanks for tuning in. Peace.

#dramatical murder #dmmd #aoba seragaki #clear #dmmd clear #long ass emotional screeching #lOL I FORGOT TO DRAW IN THE UMBRELLA HANDLE ahA #fixed

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chimswae · 3 years

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BTS Caretaker CH38

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,422

- Author Note: I had long weekend with my ongoing workshops going on whole day :< so thats why for the late update! sorry xx appreciate someone still read this!

Previous | Next

Chapter 38

“Okay, use the emergency exit and I will ask our manager to get you. Make sure to come straight to KBS Seul, I will be waiting for you” Yoongi rubbed his sore neck and glanced around the room to find the sign of his personal manager.

He hung up his phone and walked up to his manager with a distress face “Hyung, can we talk?” the muscular guy nodded as they both went to the corner of the room. “Yes, is everything alright? You seem a little edgy” he blinked confusedly.

“I need your help. Seul will be here so I need your help to assist her inside. Can you help me to get Seul?” Yoongi asked, hopeful yet afraid that his manager refused to fulfil his request.

He raised his brow in questioned “Seul? The caretaker lady? What is she doing here? Yoongi we are in public. Whatever things that you have with this young lady, don’t do it here. People might be suspicious to see her presence around you guys” the younger man stared at him hopefully.

“Please, she is in trouble. I can’t trust her alone, so I have to keep my eyes on her. I hope you can help me hyung. Please” taken aback by Yoongi unusual antic, his manager pressed his lips together in a deep thought. Being a manager, it was his responsibility to see the bigger picture of this issue and to ensure any of the members wouldn’t take any rash decision which could jeopardize their career.

“Fine, I will go get her. Don’t worry and focus on what you are about to do in a bit. Get ready for your stage, it is your turn soon”

Yoongi heaved a sigh of relief “Thank you hyung. Thank you” he gave the guy a soft squish on the shoulder and returned to his seat.

Jin overheard the conversation that they had and grew worried over Seul. The last time they talked was a week ago, he didn’t get to keep in touch with her ever since then. Not that he wanted to stick his nose into someone else’ affair, however he noticed Seul and Yoongi closeness these days made him think that they were officially dating each other.

Jungkook on the other hand had stopped talking about Seul which freaked him out. If he could crown Seul’s biggest fans, then it will be Jungkook. The maknae’s mood seemed a little dull than usual. Jimin had stuck to his side like glue ever since then.

Burying himself under his hoodie, Jin stared at his phone blankly dying to know the truth.

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Seul squished her eyes together, mentally blaming herself for calling Yoongi adding more burden to his already hectic day. Not that she wanted to burden him with her problem, but she had nowhere to go especially now, she had trusted Yoongi with all her heart. She would rather turn to him rather than destroying herself with her evil thoughts.

She dragged her heavy feet inside the building and made sure to keep her eyes open to catch familiar face there, like Bighit staff. Her cell phone rang. Still staring at the screen showing the live broadcast of Music Bank, she answered the call without uttering anything “Seul? Where are you?” asked the voice at the end of the line.

“Jin? I am..here at KBS” she was surprised to hear from Jin at this time when she thought they would be in stage getting ready for their performance.

“I heard..you are coming. Are you already here? Kibum hyung will be down in a minute to get you” Seul heard her name being called and quickly turned to face the owner of the voice. “Your manager is here. I will see you in a bit Jin. Good luck” she added, smiling between her words. Jin couldn’t hide that cheeky smile of his as he looked forward to seeing her after a week.

He jogged toward her, calling her name once again “Seul? Come with me, and I have to warn you beforehand that the backstage is going to be hectic and crazy. Walk close to me so you won’t get lost” he explained

She nodded her head, grateful to see BTS manager there, at least she didn’t need to walk through that unfamiliar glass door alone. The image in front of her took her breath away, she had never seen a backstage this hectic. Technically, she got a first-hand experience at BBMAS, but it was different considering the award show had a bigger space unlike this one. People had to squish themselves against the wall and the hallway could barely support two people walking side by side.

KBS really need a bigger space to cater this huge number of idols and staffs running around the hallway as if they were in a marathon. The silent man kept glancing at her to ensure the girl didn’t get stuck in between. Seul smiled as an assurance mouthing ‘I am fine’ that she was able to catch up on him.

Soft yelling from every corner could be heard as they were busy preparing their idols to stage. She bumped into a group of tall handsome men on her way and right before she wanted to apologize, they disappeared from her vicinity. Amazed with the surrounding, she pressed herself against the wall to keep her safe safe from bumping into other people.

It was dizzying to be in this crowded area, so she picked up her pace upon realizing the older man was nowhere to be seen. Grunting under her breath, Seul resumed her walk while keeping her eyes wide opened in case she walked pass Bangtan’s waiting room.

Like a little wandering lamb, Seul found herself in front of a room with a BTS signed on the door. She was relieved to be free from the suffocating scene a moment ago and knocked on the door softly. She opened the door, but to her surprise, she was greeted by unfamiliar faces inside the room.

She tilted her head in confusion and went back to read the name on the door though she was sure ‘BTS’ was written clearly on it. Confusion buzzed through her brain, deciphering every word written on the door. A hand was pulling the door opened on the other side causing her to stumble a little. Regaining her balance, she muttered a soft sorry in embarrassment.

The atmosphere inside the room thickening when all eyes were on her. Seul chewed her lips nervously “Who are you?” said a woman in a grey hoodie. She was holding a brush so Seul assumed she’s one of the stylists.

“I..am looking for Bangtan Sonyeondan. I guess this is not their room?” she gulped the lumps on her throat, easing the awkwardness in her.

“I thought Jae hyung changed BTS sunbaenim sign on the door to ours” another voice came into the picture and this time it was a man. His strong gravel voice reminded her of Taehyung. The man shoved his phone inside his pocket and rose from his seat. Holy crap, he is super tall! A very tall young man with smexy eyes. His eye makeup really gave away that sexy vampire vibe.

Taking the image in front of her, she stared at him in starstruck awe. His side profile was bloody amazing, with that sharp jawline and perfect proportion, he was one of a kind. He tore his gaze from the mirror “I am sorry, but this is not BTS waiting room, there was a mistake. We are JBJ-“ his words were stuck in his throat.

His eyes shot opened, enormous with surprise. “Seul!” their eyes met, exchanging a meaningful look. It had been years since they last saw each other. Even though Hyunbin kept in touch with her mother, they never exchanged a single text even once for years. Occasionally, Hyunbin would keep himself update on Seul’s life through her mother and that was it. He wanted to make sure the girl was safe and sound, living her life normally.

“Hyunbin..What are you doing here?” a smile appeared on her face as she could hear low murmur from the staffs and his bandmates. Noticing Seul getting a little uncomfortable by the attention that she got, Hyunbin cleared his throat to say something “This is Seul. She is an old friend of mine” they nodded and decided to give them space for their reunion.

“Nuna, can you give me a second? I need to talk to her” the brunette looked at him weirdly while exchanging quick glance with Kenta. The Japanese guy only chuckled in his seat, moving his shoulder in a small shrug.

He approached Seul as his arms were screaming to pull the small girl into his arm, yet he knew it better. There were many eyes in the room. Hence, he must behave himself. “Wow, I didn’t expect to run into you here” said Seul, exhaling a soft breath.

“Me too. How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you. You..look good. I heard from mother that you have become an idol now. And, yeah Hoon told me about the survival show thing” he gazed down at her still bemused of their unexpected meeting.

“It is JBJ, I am with them now. It is a temporary group project. Oh, I am sorry for what happened to Hoon. I should have known that he was assaulted by those guys, so I could do something about it” Seul shook her head. “Don’t be sorry, you did nothing. It is in the past, Hoon is working hard now to find a suitable agency that can take him as trainee” her smile alone radiates the whole room, making his eyes shrunk into a crescent moon.

“Hoon told me, I am happy for him. By the way Seul-ah, why are you looking for BTS sunbaenim?” he inquired.

“I replace mother for the time being at least until she gets better. I am their caretaker” with a laugh she shied away and ran fingers in her hair.

He watched her with an amused smile “You work for them? That is great. I mean- to work with BTS sunbaenim, that is like a dream comes true” now Hyunbin sounded a legit fanboy to her making her giggle at his reaction.

“Are you a fan?” “Of course! BTS sunbaenim is like the best role model that I could wish for” without hesitation Hyunbin answered it in one breath. They both laughed heartily enjoying the topic of his fascination towards his lovely BTS sunbaenim.

“Seul? Seul.. Thank god you are here!” they shifted their attention to the tired looking man in his fancy stage outfit. “Jinnie, why are you here?” she exclaimed in bafflement.

“To find you, hyung said he lost you. Why are you wandering around alone? This place is huge, you could get lost” Jin nagged like a mother but turned mute as soon as he realized Hyunbin’s presence around them.

“Sunbaenim..hi” Hyunbin bowed politely with a shy smile.

The older guy returned the greetings and looked at Seul confusedly “Are you seeking for his help? Ya, Ji Seul. That is not right, he is a busy man” he frowned, and his forehead furrowed. “I am sorry Hyunbin-ssi, did she cause any trouble?” Seul gaped in disbelief.

“Yah!” Jin shot her a stern look when Seul showed her protest.

“No, sunbaenim no..Seul is an old friend of mine so we are having a little chit-chat. She is not causing any trouble”

“Oh really? How did you guys know each other?”

“It is a long story Jin. It may take hours to finish one. We have to go. Don’t you have a stage to slay? And a heart to win?”

“Whose heart?” Jin was clueless by her randomness.

“Armys’ heart you fool. Let’s go. Hyunbin-ah, lets meet soon so we can have a proper talk over a tea. See you around” she bowed, patting Jin’s back signalling him to start walking and lead the way. He watched as they left the scene hurriedly with Seul trailing behind the tall guy, most probably listening to her nag along the journey.

‘Are they dating?’ he scratched his head in trying to think of a reason for their odd behaviour.

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“Are you saying Kwon could be your father?” Yoongi pressed his lips together processing the info that he had just received. For an odd reason, the air conditioner in his studio was not enough to cool off the rage boiled inside him.

“Fuck yes” Seul said bitterly.

Jin threw a cushion toward her direction “Language” and Seul grimaced in her seat.

“Ugh, alright Steve Rogers wannabe” she hugged RJ cushion pillow to her chest, squeezing it dear life earning a disgruntled look from the owner a.k.a the creator of RJ.

“Stop doing that, you are suffocating him”

She smirked sarcastically “I am turning him into my hostage”

Jin rolled his eyes in response and returned his attention back to Seul’s story. “Why didn’t any of you tell me about this? About him threatening you? Kwon is a dangerous man, stop working there” Yoongi nodded in agreement as he looked as furious as Jin.

“It is not that simple. He could sue me for breach of contract”

“We will pay for you” their unanimous voice surprised her. “The point here is, we are not letting him near you. He is a shameless old man. He should have gone to jail for what he did to you” Yoongi’s voice was deep, filled with hatred.

“Can you for once stop worrying about money? We could help you. And I know you may find this a little uncomfortable, let’s just say you can pay us when you have money. For now, think about your family safety”

Seul leaned back in her seat, fiddling with the hem of her pink sweatshirt “We are still not sure if he is my biological father. I..dont want to know at all” she blinked away her tears afraid if it hits the ground, it would send her to another dreary night.

Jin slipped his warm hands in hers, giving it a small squish “It is up to you. You don’t need to know if it hurts you. Because after all these years, you were doing fine without your biological father. Hoon and ahjumma love you, that is important. The family that you have now is your real family” he hummed softly.

“What should I do first?” she looked up with a glint of hope evident in her eyes.

The rapper sighed “It is about time Ji Seul. First, you need to return home and be with your mother. She is worried sick and wouldn’t stop bombarding me with messages” Jin cringed.

“Why she didn’t text me? She always put me above everyone else before you come into the picture!” the latter was salty over the fact that Mrs Hwang went to Yoongi instead of him.

Ignoring Jin meaningless argument, he continued “I will ask Sejin hyung about this. Well, Bighit owns a good team that can help you going through those process. We will think about that later. You have to head back and get a long rest”

“Get rid of those eyebags, it looks saggy”

“Don’t point it out!” she hissed at Jin spiteful remarks.

Yoongi rose and told her to head back home to get a good rest. “It is late. Get up and leave” Seul glared at him few seconds, adjusting her forms.

“See you again Jin. Good night” Jin crossed his arm disliking the way Yoongi dominates everyone here when he is the hyung.

Opening the door, he walked after her leaving sulky Jin inside the studio. He grabbed her arms stopping her from walking “You look like a walking dead. Can you return by yourself or do you need me to walk you home?” he whispered, tucking the strand of hair behind her ears.

“It is fine. I can take taxi or bus. You had a long day, thank you for sparing your busy time. I appreciate it” she stroked his wrist, exhaling a tired sigh.

“Then, text me as soon as you reach home. Be careful” he planted a soft kiss at the top of her head, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

“Yoongi…” “Stay like this for a minute, I need this” she smiled, encircling her arms around his waist tight. Burying her face in his chest, she inhaled his manly scent. Thanks to Yoongi and Jin, today seemed to be easy for her to endure after all. This is how it feels like to have trusted people by her side, she need not to worry about her insecurities. They will come to aid when she needs them.

Meanwhile, beyond the door was Namjoon doing his Vlive for the fans. As he read through the comment, Namjoon was taken aback to see the comment section were flooded with questions like;

“Who are those people at your door?”

“Namjoon oppa I think someone is in front of your door”

“OMG? DID I JUST SEE SOMEONE HUGGING THERE AGSDJAHAJS”

“THE MEMBER IS DATING? WHO WHO?”

“WHO IS THAT GIRL!”

“Eyy, don’t freak out it must be one of the members fooling around”

“I swear to god that is a girl! You can clearly see the height difference and her ponytails?! WTF?”

“Judging from the size and height, could it be Jimin??!”

“It could be Min Yoongi too”

“The height difference and the frame asuwehwdhjws FUCK! It is definitely a girl and a man!”

“Think positive guysss! Namjoon oppa go check who is at the door! I am freaking out!!!”

His eyes sprung open reading the unusual comment and he quickly turned back to confirm it with his own eyes, whether it was only a prank by Armys. To his dismay, it wasn’t some empty words. There were two people at the door of his studio, holding onto each other sparking questions inside his head.

Namjoon bid a farewell to Armys without commenting anything about the unclear reflection came from his door, and he settled down to confront whoever outside his studio. Indeed, Armys have eyes like a hawk. This was not their first time seeing through things that they shouldn’t see.

He was moving quickly, stealthily towards the door to find Yoongi and Seul exchanging warm hugs. They pulled away upon hearing the door clicked open “Hyung? Seul?” Seul blushed softly and forced a smile across her lips.

“Joon..I am about to leave. I will see you guys soon” Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off Seul and Yoongi however he didn’t want to scare the poor girl. He chose to keep his mouth shut ignoring the possibility that this dating rumour might make to major news headline tomorrow.

“Get back safely Seul” he waved awkwardly.

Yoongi sent her off to the elevator, “Text me alright?” he ruffled her hair along with his signature gummy smile.

“Goodnight Yoong”

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The following day, Namjoon woke up early than he planned. He didn’t sleep a wink last night with all the worries and fear bubbled inside him. What if Armys sense something is wrong and make fuss over the issue? What he should do to stop the rumours from spreading?

He settled deeper under the warm covers, not wanting to think about what he read on Twitter and Naver. Namjoon spent his night reading fans tweet to see their theories on the enigmatic figure behind the doors. And, he was right. The keyword ‘RM VLIVE’ and ‘RM Studio Door’ were both trending on twitter and naver. Not to mention, Armys had came up with a hashtag #AskRM on twitter and was trended first worldwide for 9 hours straight.

Groaning in frustration, Namjoon sat up and rubbed his forehead. His head was pounded at the thought of this rumour circulating around the fans. He prayed that fans will stop speculating and it wouldn’t reach the press or even worse Bang PD. Fortunately, everyone seemed busy to notice this kind of trending made by fans. Lets just stay that way.

Namjoon spoke to no one about this issue even though the chances that the members to figure out truth from the internet was quite high, he planned to tell others the first thing in the morning. Today would be their last day for Love Yourself promotion before proceeding with their Wings Tour until early December. He was determined to not ruin today’s fansign and acted normal. He better not screwed it up.

#btscaretaker #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook x oc #Yoongi x oc #bts fluff #kpop fanfic #bts romance #bts x oc #bts idolau

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beautifulbows924 · 4 years

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The Christmas Wish

Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam (Platonic)

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve really hopped back into my writing lately and I’m super excited. This is my first time writing for supernatural, so go easy on me. I’d love to do some requests- feel free to send me some, Happy holidays!

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Fluff, Gore mention.

Summary: Christmas is near and feelings are being kept secret, will they find out how they really feel about each other or will they never get the chance?

“Are we really going to do this right now?”, Dean asked, exasperated with both you and his brother.

“Yes”, You responded, not missing a beat.

He rolled his eyes, but handed you an ornament anyway. You placed it on the tree with a smile. It was Christmas and you loved the holidays- plus you knew the boys hadn’t had a traditional holiday in years, if not more. So here: you, the Winchester’s, and Cas were putting ornaments and lights on the Christmas tree like the majorly dysfunctional family you were. However, as good as this was, this wasn’t all you wanted for Christmas. What you really wanted was for a certain Winchester to wake up and smell the roses (or in this case apple pie).

“Here you go”, You said after handing all of them cups of hot chocolate.

“And this is why you’re the best”, Sam said kissing your forehead and giving you a smile.

Unnoticed to you, Dean suddenly was wearing a frown on his face seeing the exchange between you and his brother. It made him seethe whenever he would see how well you went together, he wanted to be the one to kiss your forehead and make you smile.

Sam was the one that always noticed this and suddenly not being able to stand the obliviousness of both of you. He took you by the arm to the kitchen, mumbling an excuse about needing you to help him find something.

“Sam!”, You laughed finally managing to tug your arm from his grip, “What’s going on?”.

He sighed running a hand through his hair, “You have got to know that my brother likes you”.

“What?”, You asked, that couldn’t possibly be true.

“God, you’re both blind idiots sometimes. His eyes light up when you smile, and you blush when he touches you for a little too long. He’s the best and so are you- you both deserve to be happy for once”, He said smiling.

“So, what should I do? I can’t just tell him that I like him Sam”.

“Let me deal with that- I have a few ideas”.

“I don’t know if I should appreciate how much thought you’ve put into this, or be a little scared”, You said still nervous about any plan that would include Dean finding out about your feelings for him.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder, “Look at me, I promise everything is going to be okay- just trust me on this one”.

You were still skeptical, but you nodded in agreement to his plan anyway.

Once returning to decorating, you couldn’t help but notice the lingering glances Dean was throwing your way. You actually thought Sam could be right, but you tried hard to not let yourself get your hopes up.

In bed, later that night, you couldn’t stop the slight smile that tugged at your lips or the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You were abruptly woken up by Dean shaking your arm roughly, looking at him you could see he had a guilty look on his face.

“You’re not going to like this”, He said, “-but we have a case”.

“Well duty calls and all that bullshit, right?”, You said throwing the covers off of you.

“Yeah, though I know we were all looking forward to the holidays this year, especially you sweetheart”.

Your heart swelled at the nickname, but you knew you had a job to be done, “So, what are we dealing with this time?”

“A Djinn by the looks of it”, Sam said walking in the room with one of many lore books.

“Great another wish bitch, just what we need”.

You remember the stories the boys have told you about Djinns, they’re quite dangerous. Being able to poison someone with just one touch.

“I’ll prepare the knives if you get the lamb’s blood”, You said to Sam who was already on his way out of the room.

“Sounds good”.

“We’ll leave at 11”, Dean said before leaving too.

Once they were gone your shoulders slouched, just one holiday? With the man you secretly loved and your two best friends. That’s all you wanted.

You were canvasing the large warehouse, looking for points of entry until you found a large window on the first floor that was already broken.

“Boys”, You whisper yelled loud enough for them to hear, “I found our way in”.

They instantly came over to you readying themselves for the fight they were about to walk into. Just before you went through the window Dean grabbed your arm, turning you to face him, “Be careful, okay?”.

You nodded continuing your movement being as quiet as possible. There was a bunch of rows of shelves, you each split up into one. The only sound you could hear was that of your own breathing. When you finally made it to the end of your row you found people strung up and connected to blood bags, as pale as ghosts.

You pulled the needles from them, and worked on getting them loose. When you turned you saw a Djinn directly in front of you, it took the knife from your hands and flung it against the wall. You ran to try and get it, but it was immediately back on you again crushing you against a wall. You could hear Dean shout your name, before everything went black.

You woke up back at the hotel, Dean at your side.

“You’re okay- thank goodness”, He said squeezing your hand. You didn’t know why, but this didn’t feel right.

You ignored it.

“Did everyone get out okay?”, You asked concern evident in your voice.

“Yeah, a lot of them were banged up pretty bad, you included. You scared me”.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Just resting”, He said, placing a hand on your face. It looked like him and talked like him, but when you love someone you know and you knew this wasn’t Dean. Sitting up you tell him you have to go to the bathroom, but instead you make your way out of the hotel room and into baby, using the keys you stole from his pocket without him noticing- something you never would have been able to accomplish if this was real. You sighed; you were really enjoying the treatment he was giving you. If only it were real.

“Dammit, why’d she have to go and do that Sammy? She should have waited for us”, Dean said holding your body close to his.

“Cas!”, He yelled, causing the angel to appear, “Help her”.

Cas walked over placing his hand on your head, “I can’t, she has to make the choice herself”.

He looked at the angel, green eyes red rimmed with pain swirling in them.

“Please come back to me”, Dean repeated in your ear over and over.

Sam and Cas stood off to the side wishing for the best.

Pulling into the warehouse, you immediately jumped out, following your original path.

“You can’t just let yourself be happy, can you?”, Dean’s voice asked from behind you.

“Here, I love you, and I want to be with you. We can get married, have kids. Out there he doesn’t really care about you. Sam’s just trying to help to make you feel better, but here everything you want can be yours- I can be yours, isn’t that what you really want?”.

You walked up to him, kissing him on the lips like it could be your last chance.

“Maybe he doesn’t want me and never will, but I’d rather live what’s real out there, than a lie in here”, You said, taking your knife and stabbing yourself in the chest. You fell to the ground as you blacked out again.

Your eyelids fluttered open as you groaned weakly, Dean pulled you tighter to him, “I thought I lost you”, He said his voice cracking with relief.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily Winchester”, You said before coughing.

“Good”.

Back at the bunker Christmas was only a day away, with this hunt almost bleeding into the holiday, you felt lucky you were actually going to get to spend time with the boys- especially after everything that had happened.

Dean had barely left your side since. He seemed like he still felt responsible no matter what you told him.

You missed the Djinns dream world sometimes, but you knew you had made the right choice. Reality was always better even if you wished for more. Sam had yet to make good on his promise and you were slowly losing hope. You told yourself it was for the best.

You were walking to your room when you ran into Dean, “Ouch!”, You exclaimed.

“Sorry”, He said.

You turned to leave, but before you could- “Wait, look up”.

You looked up to see a Mistletoe strategically placed by whom you assumed was Sam.

“Oh, well we don’t have to. I’m sure you don’t want to so it’s fine- “, You were cut off by lips being pressed to yours. You instantly responded by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When you had to break free for air, you smiled up at him slightly surprised.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, but this hunt made me realize something important. That we never know how long we’ve got and whatever time we’ve got left I want to spend it with you”.

You kissed him again letting his words sink in. You really were getting what you wanted for Christmas.

“Remind me to thank Sam later”, You said with a giggle.

Finally, your Christmas wish had come true.

*Thanks for reading! Leave a Note or Reblog if you Enjoyed it* ~Rose❤️

If you would like to be tagged or un-tagged comment down below💕

Permanent Taglist: @breezy1415 @marveltrashaddict @nonamesland @asphalt-cocktail @petamakesmoneyoffanimalabuse @bungeewabbit @egonickart @peculiar-monstar @howdycharlie @hauntedfiremilkshake @ilikebreadandmemes @starguardian319 @nanbaka-lover-4146 @buckysbean @nellygruber @spoonlickermoondancer @navenici @dr-tardis-who @thevanishedillusion @pianomad @ask-aizawa-rin @pan-galaxy @tiddyciddy @makeshift-prime @edgy-alex @misfit-wiitch @oliviajmarvel @supernatural-jackles @pianomad

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ratingtheframe · 4 years

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Hard to swallow thriller succeeds in style and falls in substance - The Other Lamb REVIEW

A sinister thriller starring Raffey Cassidy that follows a Shepherd and his numerous wives and daughters living on the outskirts of society.

It’s difficult to critique a film when artistically it shows itself to be bold, innovative and really clean. For most filmmakers, the edgy camera angles and ultra vibrant set design is both an addition to the story and the inspiration for it, with both elements driving and helping the story to reveal itself. Indie filmmaking has always pushed films both beautiful as stories and visual masterpieces. However, and this is a big however, it’s very easy for a film’s story and central themes to get drowned out by the artistic execution. We can agree that certain production choices influence the story, but that should be it; an influence, artistic choices should affect a film, not necessarily create it. It’s okay to think of the colour curtains you want in a room before the scene itself, however we need that scene at the end of the day in order for the story to be told.

The Other Lamb is set up in the middle of the woods. Selah (Raffey Cassidy) lives amongst two sets of women dressed in blue and red to distinguish their positions; daughters and wives. They live pretty simply, skinning and eating sheep and sleeping together in plain wood cabins. It starts off slow and uncertain as to how and why these women came to be here on the outskirts of society and living in a hub led by womanhood. Or so it seemed, when the true face behind this community is shown painted on the outside of one of their cabins; the man they call “The Shepherd” (Michiel Huisman). Selah seems to have this infatuation with the Shepherd that goes beyond him being her father. She truly idolises him, along with all his wives and daughters who hang onto his every word as if he were Jesus and they, his disciples. This sort of context makes sense, seeing as Jesus was known as a Shepherd and the women in this community are labelled as “a flock”. I don’t know about anyone else, but to stay in this hub wouldn’t be the first desire of mine in life. However, these women have been brainwashed into thinking the world outside of them is something to be feared and that depending on the Shepherd is their only fulfilment in life.

Selah is up one night when she sees The Shepherd in a conversation with a policeman, confirmation for us as audiences that the outside world still exists. After that night, The Shepherd announces that they have to leave their home, without explanation. The other women, like always, go along with what the Shepherd announces, believing his decisions to be the best for all of them. Selah is unsure and thus their journey begins to a new home, with Selah at the forefront and forced to be exposed to the Shepherd’s true colours, as a controlling individual without a caring bone in his body.

This journey starts at the halfway point of the film and usually in a film, there’s a moment screenwriters like to call the “inciting incident” where the true story kicks off post expositional visuals. This is when the clock starts ticking and the protagonist's journey towards a goal commences. This would be when Rose and Jack meet in James Cameron’s Titanic or when Ladybird starts Catholic School in Greta Gerwig’s Ladybird. Everything before that is known as the set up, it explores the world around the film and the people we’ll get to know later on. Though you might not be aware of it, this segment lasts between 10-15 minutes before we’re told the real reason why we tuned in on this film; the inciting incident. What The Other Lamb failed to do was give us that reason sooner.

It took a veeeery long time before we were told why we were watching this film; the journey to a new home reveals the Shepherd’s true colours. Beforehand was filled with BE-AU-TI-FUL shots and some great filmmaking techniques that were meant to create this entire unfathomable world. However, a lot of these shots were hard to understand and interpret their relationship to the story, almost like an experimental film. Maybe The Other Lamb falls into this category, but I would’ve liked that verification before watching the film.

As mentioned, the real start of the story was played way too late into the film and we as an audience were sort of left on a whim as to what this story is really about. In fact, the entire structure of this film went AWOL and the ending came quicker than expected. The film’s concept, camera work, acting and production design were flawless and enviable, however they don’t mean much against a poorly structured story. The idea fell through the weak structure and had the screenwriter spent a little more time developing their characters and implementing a stronger arc, this film would have been excellent. Screenwriting and filmmaking techniques are principles, not rules. They provide basic anecdotes into creating great movies and those who go beyond those structures become revolutionary in their art form. Go too far and you lose the audience completely and stick to them too much, you risk creating a mundane, before seen film. It’s a true filmmaker who can balance their own imagination with the principles that help sell most films and an understanding of both can really skyrocket their creativity.

#theotherlamb #raffey cassidy #moviereviews #moviereviewer #indiefilms

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today-we-will-survive · 4 years

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Chocolate and Vanilla

Pairing: Stockboy!Jungkook x Youtuber!reader

Genre: fluff

Warning: none

Word Count: 999

A/N: I know I said I’m done with fanfic and I really am, I promise. But I wrote this for NaNoWriMo and thought it would make for cute fanfic so I changed my OC to Y/N and, well, here you go 💜

“Okay, so I’m here at the grocery story,” you say to the camera. Your eyes travel upward to the viewfinder where you quickly make eye contact with yourself. “You know, as any rational human would at 2 in the morning. Why am I here at this ungodly hour? Well, your girl had a hankering for ice cream—once again, as any rational human would at 2 in the morning, right? Normal waking hours are but a social construct, kids.”

The grocery store is, of course, pretty empty as far as customers go so the sight of a girl talking to a camera traipsing through the place toward the freezer section at 2 in the morning is very much cause for the stock boy in the bread aisle to lean out into the main one to see what the commotion is all about. He barely catches a glimpse of a few wisps of hair before they disappear around the corner, though the footsteps can still be heard clearly.

“Okay so here’s my dilemma,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “I was at home, I was editing, I was feeling vanilla, then on the drive here I started thinking, now Y/N, do you really think that the beautiful people that watch your videos, that look to you for inspiration will be satisfied with the idea of you eating a bowl of plain, vanilla ice cream? I started thinking a bit. Does my desire for vanilla ice cream come from a place of being afraid to take risks? Am I so worried about some of you people having a nut prejudice? Or a chocolate chunk dislike? Am I afraid my choice will reflect in future ratings and ad views and follower count? And then I had an epiphany. Perhaps the very reason you lovely lovely lovely lambs are on my channel is because of my constant desire to be different. To be maybe, should I even say, a bit, edgy?” You bob your head to either side to emphasize the word, immediately feeling like an absolute dork at the thought. “Uh…anyway, so on the way here I was thinking, you know what? Maybe I’ll spice things up a bit and try out this new Reese's pieces, rocky road mash-up I’ve been hearing so much about. What could be more edgy than a mash up of two very beloved flavors? And what could possibly go wrong with said mash-up? You got peanut butter, you got chocolate, you got marshmallows, what more could a girl that is craving ice cream at 2 am ask for?”

Then you lean back against the ice cream cooler, looking up to the ceiling with a longing sigh. “But then I had one more thought as I was pulling into the parking lot.” Another dramatic pause. “What if I did just go for plain vanilla? And what if I made it very clear that I wasn’t reaching for this classic flavor because I am meek. Because I am timid. Because I am irrationally worried about any anti-Reese's pieces, rocky road viewers I may have, but that I want it because vanilla, as I previously stated, is classic? Reaching for the vanilla in here isn’t me saying, please don’t judge me for being boring, it’s saying, hey Y/N, you don’t need the world’s approval for your ice cream choice. You should be able to enjoy whatever flavor you want because it is going to be you and you alone that will be experiencing it and if you are denying yourself an amazing ice cream eating experience because you are afraid of people calling you predictable or boring or just vanilla then you’re not living your life for yourself and that is no way to live, my friend. That is no. Way. To. Live.” You punctuate each word with a knock to the glass door of the freezer before at last whirling around and opening it. “And another thing,” you say darting your eyes up to the corner of the view screen. A face appears in the top left corner, causing you to pause mid sentence. You turn again to find no one in the aisle and giggle to yourself as you once again face the freezer.

“It’s always weird for me to vlog in public yet I still find myself going on these strange rants. I’m literally going on about the validity of eating vanilla ice cream and someone was totally watching me and—oop.” There he is again, just half a face with dark brown hair and curious “eye” and you can’t help but smile again, this time staying turned away from him so as not to scare him off.

Slowly, he makes his way further out until you can see his other eye as well. It seems by now he’s caught on that you know he’s there but it would definitely be more embarrassing to run away than it would be to awkwardly wave at his tiny reflection in the view screen.

“Hello, kind sir,” you say, your eyes crinkling in the corners as you talk to him through the screen, still without turning around. “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh…sure?” the boy replies, his voice small but deep and you can feel your face growing warmer.

“I was wondering what your favorite ice cream flavor is.”

The boy seems caught off guard by your question and he finds himself taking a step back and lowering his head in thought. You think maybe you shouldn’t have asked a question with so many potential answers but then suddenly his head pops back up and he smiles. “Chocolate,” he says.

“And why’s that?”

The boy smiles now sheepishly. “Because it goes so well with vanilla?”

You turn around now, the heat in your cheeks enough to melt all the ice cream to puddles behind you, at last making eye contact with him before smiling wider. “Smooth,” you say then lower the camera and turn it off.

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sharkmartini · 4 years

Note

2,4,12 for the fic ask (replacing “episode” with scene or character beat)

Thanks for the asks, friend 💖💜💙💖💜💙

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to? There’s probably lots. I love tons of tropes- I read a lot and I’m always in constantly thinking about how I’d write my own version of other people’s stuff. I think what I’d really like to try but haven’t gotten around to yet is a soulmate fic. I LOVE soulmate fics (my favourite fic of all time is @basic-banshee’s ‘I Believe this is Yours.’) but because I love them so much I’m afraid of not being able to write one I’m happy enough with to share. I am an incredibly picky person in every aspect of my life, and it bleeds into my own writing in the sense that I refuse to write certain things if I can’t write them to the standard with which I expect of myself. It’s an ongoing thing- but short answer is I’d love to write a soulmate AU someday, I just need to get an idea that feels good enough to do it justice and then go at it until it’s good.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Last time I counted I think I had like seventeen (17?!) WIPs. Some of these are like two sentences and some are as long as 16k words. This is because I’m always reading and trying to write ideas I like in other people’s works, things I wish people would write, things that don’t exist (with good reason, probably)- but that I just want for variety’s sake (like the Baz/Lamb stuff I’m always whining about.) Also, my husband is a very very creative person and gives me a lot of ideas for fics, his background is in film and he’s very good at storyboarding. Honestly though, only about a half dozen of the ideas ive got are good enough to make an actual fic out of. One fic I’m working on is a campy little story about voodoo. It’ll probably end up being pretty short, but i think it’s a very very fun idea. Here’s a lil peek:

SIMON- 8th year

I find it when I go looking for Baz's lube. (I don't make it a habit, but occasionally after a rough week I feel like I deserve it. Baz always buys the fanciest of everything- it's no wonder that his lube is the best money can buy.) It's stuffed between the side of his bed and the wall, and for a second I think it's a sock of some sort.

It's weird, I know there's dolls and posters and stuff of me (I don't know who makes them. And I'm not entirely sure why, either) but the idea that Baz owns something of me is… weird.

I wonder what his plot is.

It's like a doll, but soft. It's worn down a little (how old is this thing exactly?) but it's still recognizable as me. The Watford uniform kind of gives it away, and so does the little sword of Mages sewn into the right hand.

It's… dirty, which is unlike everything else that Baz owns. Maybe it isn't his after all? It smells kind of weird too. Fresh, despite the way it looks.

I turn it over and- there’s a little knot of hair pinned to the back.

Copper.

Merlin.

I drop the doll and jump away from it. I kick it away from me and wince a little as a dull pain radiates in my shoulder, exactly where I kicked it.

I start to panic.

I leave the doll on the floor and run to find Penny.

12. Is there an episode (scene/character) above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Anything to do with Baz’s vampirism. I love vampires- I never outgrew my edgy emo days and I’m still living my ‘vampires are cool’ phase. Since I was never into twilight I get my fix here, which means anything with vampirism is a big old YES from me. I primarily write AUs because I’m lazy and also because canon already exists and doesn’t need my takes, but a lot of my current WIPs are heavily vampire-related and are very very cool because of that. So I guess stay tuned if you like that kind of stuff.

Thanks again for the asks 🥰🥰🥰

☀️Fanfic writer asks☀️

#fic ask meme #writer asks #ask sharkmartini

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mattymurdox · 4 years

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Ok... so I started Sanditon, I’ve only watched one episode so far and I do want to watch the rest because it’s pretty and Theo James is just so lovely to look at and him is period dress is worth it for me. But... I don’t particularly like a few things about the writing and I wanted to post about it even though literally no one cares or is going to read this but here we go. (needless to say spoilers below)

I get the vibe that someone pitched this and went “It’s Jane Austen... BUT EDGY/SEXUAL!” -_- which, idk isn’t my fav. Like episode one already has a brother sister incest thing going, which is just not for me. Sorry, it’s gross and I already don’t like the way they’re framing it as cool and edgy and wow isn’t is sexy that this brother and sister and totally into each other?!?! No, no I’m sorry it’s really not. That same dude, is also off getting hand jobs (like episode 1 ya’ll for heavens sake) which is seen by the protagonist at a distance. Because they need to go “see, look Jane Austen but EDGY/SEXY” because bad boy either coerces nice girl into sexual favors or she’s into, we don’t know, but either way look HE IS BAD BOY. As if him making eyes at every single female and salacious comments towards and about them, while also being into his own sister wasn’t enough of a hint that he’s gross, we needed to actually SEE him be bad boy right away in episode 1.

It also drops hints that Sydney is maybe bad boy too, oh look, Darcy but edgy! He’s had trouble with women according to his sister-in-law, whose apparently now close enough to Charlotte, who she met a week ago, to tell her all her personal concerns about the love life of her brother-in-law. That’s a lot of unsolicited personal info to a girl you hardly know, but ok. He’s apparently got a past with Miss Lamb and she can’t stand his guts, and then we’re TOLD this again because showing it wasn’t enough, that she had to leave London because of an unsuitable romantic relationship. Which they want us to infer was Sydney when I think it more likely she was with some guy who Sydney didn’t approve of and he broke them up and that’s why she hates him. But they want us to think it was him and that he’s the edgy bad boy when he’s really the galant good boy. (a trope I’m totally fine with, it’s just the execution in this that I find annoying, you don’t need to hit me over the head with this stuff. But that would take more time and better writing to sprinkle things in instead.)

Idk for me a main reason I love period drama is generally the writing tends to be a bit more intelligent. It doesn’t pander to me or feel the need to both tell and show me every single little bit of story being told, but leans more in slowly showing and building to the important character beats and developments. This feels like the writers don’t trust the audience to understand the story and so they felt the need to make giant neon signs and wave them in front of your face going DO YOU GET IT, DO YA? That man is bad. That woman is bad. That woman is Elizabeth and that one is Darcy... oh wait no... lets make it edgy IT’S EDGY LOOK SEX and INCEST and MORE SEX. And again, I am making these judgements off of only one episode, so it’s possible things will improve? but I’m feeling like the writing of this is just going to be subpar at best, and that’s fine I guess I can suffer through that for the pretty.

#sanditon #jordyn liveblogs sanditon #kind of I guess

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probablyrpgmechanicsideas · 5 years

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Hey Mod-Bean, I have had an idea for a class/school of magic. It is based on the Simic guild from MTG's Ravnica block. Think magic genetic engineers. These wizards are able to store genetic information and combine it into new forms. Could you maybe help with some ideas for spells and all that jazz? I would greatly appreciate the input. I have some spells thought up ill put in another ask.

Asker’s Other Ask:

Bio-Plasma Bolt- basic first lvl attack that deals either fire or acid damage.

Genetic Extraction- store genetic material of plants or animals. One of each at first level. 2 of each at 5th level. 4 of each at 10th lvl

Mutate Flora- first lvl spell. Combines animals genes with a plant, creating a mutated plant companion that lasts until sundown.

Mutate Fauna- 5th lvl spell. Combines genetic material of plants and/or animals with a non-humanoid creature. Roll an intelligence DC to determine if creature is tamed or remains feral in mutated state.

Mutate Humanoid- 10th lvl spell. Combines genetic material of plants/animals with target humanoid. If target is an enemy, they become feral and attack any creature nearest to them. If an ally, they get a temporary boost (haven’t worked on details.)

Experimental Herb- once per day manifest a seed that; with in minutes, grows into a bioluminescent plant with 1d6 berries that heal 1d10 health each and remove one status effect.

Beany’s Response:

I do play MtG occasionally, and I actually have a few Simic card :D despite having to look up which was Simic because I just play the game and enjoy the flavor texts, I don’t got the brains to keep up with the lore.

ANYwho, this is a really interesting idea already :D And this’ll be a case where you not specifying a system/game gives me that much more opportunity >83

Derived Magic: I’ve had an idea of a similar magic-user being able to use elemental magic, but it’s weakened unless you find some place in the human body to derive it from. For example,

Derive from Body: As well as all the other ways of Blood Magic/Bloodbending/[insert edgy magic field here] there are in the world, imagine what could be just made out of a being’s blood. If you don’t want to play the self-sacrificial lamb and have your already glass-cannoned mage be slicing themselves open, you could always use corpses (found or, for the less morally inclinded, fresh) to create products.

IT’S ALIVE!: One of the Simic guild’s abilities is “Graft.” “Graft” just allow cards with this ability to transfer their +1/+1 counters onto other creatures, but I immediately thought of Dr. Frankenstein when I read that. Think what a Bio-mage could do! FLESH GOLEMS/CONSTRUCTS! You’re like a Necromancer with fatter minions! 8D

It’s in my veins: Have you ever read all that’s in blood? Beings with heavy diets usually have residual minerals like copper and iron in their blood which, if you’re not picky about mixing metals, could easily construct small metal objects in a pinch. Heck, there’s even poisonous materials like Arsenic in our blood at all times. Arsenic only works as a poison when you have too much of it in your blood, not just because you have it in your system.

Derive from Mind: “Ral Zarek’s brainstorms bring actual thunder and lightning.” -Blast of Genius flavor text.

The human brain is full of electricity. The average (human) adult consumes food to make 100 Watts of power. Your brain uses 20 W of that. Use your head and make a whole new meaning to Bio-Shock!!

Next, the Fuzzy Co-Stars: I see that lil’ Intellect DC in your Mutate Fauna spell. I see we have a fellow pet-maker in the area~! XD But realize what your mutations and such could accomplish. The right mutation could end up giving your Bio-Engineer a familiar by accidentally giving it sentient intelligence. Or, just trying physical traits could basically make you a Pokemon Trainer. Which opens up the idea of using pets’ abilities like HM Moves, pissing off your DM every step of the way.

If you find you don’t wanna keep a tamed being (too many pets already, doesn’t fit in with the rest of the crew, you just tried it to get out of a tough battle for shits and giggles, etc.), you could always make a bit of money as a sort of Monster Breeder. Imagine you making, like, 25G by selling a little girl’s parents a shrunken, fluffy, pink Bulette. You’d make a little girl’s day, possibly have a powerful ally in the girl’s parents, and make some gold for even more genetics!

I also want to point out just how much fun you could have with what exact mutations are available. In the simplest form, you could scourge through and see what Feats (or similar idea your system uses) could act as evolutionary paths. If you’re really determined, read books on genetics and especially adaptations/natural selection. Don’t just ask “IF this monster spits acid,” ask “WHY this monster spits acid?” Having a polar bear develop fire breath from a dragon’s genetics is cut-and-paste. Having a polar bear instead develop ICE breath because it’s the area’s apex predator and ICE breath is even MORE lethal in already-wintery environments is true adaptation with a purpose! Try not to just cut and paste things, instead ask “Why would the original creature need this?” and think how the mutated creature would likely evolve to suit the same purpose. Or, if you wanted a more individual-case idea, a more violent-minded/personality polar bear might get ice breath to help allies fight, a more loving polar bear might get fire breath to help allies stay warm AROUND the fight. But this is how we we start getting into nature vs nurture arguments, so let’s just stop here >->;

This was fun 8D Think I might’ve went a bit too crazy, though. Oh well, if you need any more help, @idontwannagotow0rk, feel free to send us another ask :D

Same goes for the rest of y’all! I’ve been busy the last couple weeks, but I’m on Spring Break this week! This is optimal time for me! ^w^

Happy gaming, everyone~!

the-anonymous-bean/Mod Bean

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magiesheartlove · 5 years

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The Greatest Show (a love letter to MLP:FiM

Okay, so I was planing on writing this down sometime after the season ended but, I’m just feeling a lot of...feels, at the moment that, I just needed to get this written down.

I’m going to be frank, I am sad MLP is ending but, at the same time, I’m glad it won’t become one of those series that just keeps going and going to the point at which it overstayed it’s welcome. I have long since accepted that season 9 would be the end of MLP. When a show ends, I always accept it. If it ends on a high note, even better.

Out of all the shows I have watched in the early 2010s, MLP was one I never, in a millions years, would have imagined would gain not only such a huge and devoted following that stretched far from its intended demographic, but also was a series that, in my eyes, reflected everything I loved about storytelling and why I wanted to tell stories to begin with.

I will never forget the first time I was introduced to the series. I was watching television on an ordinary Saturday, and one day on the Hub Channel in the channel guide I read My Little Pony was on. I simply shrugged and decided to just watch a little snippet of my childhood, so “what the heck”.

I had since grown out of the MLP phase, and while I still love magically colorful equines, the cutesy, baby talking cartoon horses didn’t appeal to a high school senior like myself. Instead of seeing either some old nineties rerun of an old episode, or something meant for a pre-school audience, I saw... cute, funny, not-cheesy, modernized ponies in a stylized flash animation...and they were taking on a flipping DRAGON!

It was the episode “Dragonshy”, and when I saw Fluttershy stand up to that dragon, no joke, my jaw dropped. I’ve seen the typical “shy person gets over their fear” plot done before, but the way it was handled, and the way they portrayed the ponies (including Rainbow Dash, who I remembered being a fashionable pony who said “darling” every other word), as a rough and tumble tomboy was awesome! It had a fashionista unicorn with sass, a Pinkie Pie who was actually funny, a country pony with muscle, and a unicorn who took charge.

This... this wasn’t the MLP I grew up with. This was... modern and, updated and stylized and, thought out more.... and... I... was.... HOOKED! I couldn’t stop gushing about it to my Mom, and she was staring at me like “it’s My Little Pony”, and I was all “I know!”

Of course, when I watched “Winter Wrap up” and I saw that they were about to sing, I thought, “Oh, a cutesy song. Okay.” And then the song played.... it wasn’t annoying, the lyrics weren’t babyish, and the ponies sounded.... good. Like, star quality, Broadway good. The music, the animation, the way the song fit into the episode it.... it was..... I loved it. My jaw was to the floor at how it completely blew away my expectations. This was definitely NOT the my little pony I remember, and I just fell harder and harder for it.

I fell for the characters in a heartbeat, the world building was colorful and beautiful, and the morals. Let me tell ya, the morals sold it for me. While I had seen other educational shows that practically shove the message in your face, this one did it in a way that was tailored into each episode without feeling like it was bashing you over the head with it. Sure, there were a few times near the end, but they were minor nitpicks in my opinion.

This, this was the kind of show, the kind of story, the kind of world, the kind of characters I always dreamed of making myself. Stories about love, and friendship, and family, characters with bonds that you could feel radiating off of the screen, a world so vast and endless you wished you could enter it and live every day exploring the horizons and uncovering new mysteries within it, and all alongside the ones who would wrestle a hydra or jump from a crystal palace for you.

As I grew older, finding good quality shows I could enjoy was difficult. Shows now a days either try to be “edgy” or “mature” that they just came across as trying too hard. As much as I adore overarching stories, it was refreshing to go back to that slice of life, villain of the week format that is feels like it’s being rejected now a days in animation. Again, I don’t have a problem with overarching plots, but slice of life stories can be just as fun, and open up a lot of doors for character interactions and enough wiggle room for the morals to shine through more.

MLP continued to surprise me over the years. As I grew, so did the show. I mean, Twilight went from an awkward student who didn’t care about friends, into the flipping PRINCESS of Friendship! Rarity expanded her business, Rainbow Dash learned humility and became a Wonder Bolt. Fluttershy became more and more confident, Applejack learned to ask for help, and Pinkie Pie had her ups and down, but at the end of the day, all she really cared about was making her friends happy. Even the Cutie Mark Crusaders finally found their calling, and it completely blew me away. Like a lot of people, I cried.

Speaking of tears, I know the whole villains reforming thing has caused some controversy over the years, and while I do empathize with a lot of the criticism, I can’t not love seeing these villains change for the better. Call me a compete and total sap, but if a man who persecuted and murdered people for believing in a Savior, only to have the most earth shattering revelation and transform into a messenger of the Gospel, even at the risk of his own life, and if a man from my Church can go from a man with the heart of a murder, into a devoted and kindhearted man who sung songs to The Lord every Sunday, then yes. If someone is willing, if they WANT it enough, I believe a heart of stone can become a heart of flesh. I know, a lot of people don’t believe it, and I understand why. But like Jesus, I want those lost lambs to find their way back.

As a President Lincoln once said: If I make my enemy my friend, have I not defeated my enemy?

I love when a villain changes for the better. Even if, story wise, it can be rushed, the meaning is still there. For me, that’s enough. I know not everybody changes, but that doesn’t mean nobody will. We live in a fallen world, but there is a Light that chases away the dark, gives us His hand, and shows us there is a better way. Just like Twilight did for Sunset Shimmer, and Sunset Shimmer did for Human Twilight.

Aside from introducing me to an amazing fandom, meeting so many wonderful people, and even being the show that coaxed me into the fanfiction world which led me to discover my love fo writing, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic has and will forever be my all time favorite show, surpassing all others from my childhood. It came during my transition from a child to an adult. It sparked my imagination, made me smile, made me laugh and made me cry.

This series, this world, and its characters carried something that made it stand out amongst so many other shows in my eyes, and in my heart I always knew why. To quote the minister of Shady Oak ministries on YouTube; “They took the love of God, and put it on ponies.” Yes, when I watched MLP, when I heard the messages and witnessed the strong relationships, I saw Jesus manifested in each of them. I wasn’t even trying to find it, I just... felt it in my heart.

The Magic Of Friendship brought out the best in the Mane Six, brought out the best in those around them, and came through for them even when it seemed as if all was lost. And, it didn’t just go by the motions. The characters grew and learned, but that spark, that special little something that made them who they were, it didn’t fade, it only became stronger. They became the best versions of themselves, and though they still tumble and fall, they keep getting back up, because one way or another, there will ways be somepony there to reach out their hoof and help them back up.

I am so grateful for this show, and for all the wonderful things that came with it. The good, the bad, the weird, the funny, all of it.

Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Spike, Celestia, Luna, Sunset Shimmer, Discord, everypony, Thank you all for these wonderful nine years, and for teaching us that Friendship truly is the most powerful magic of all. But most importantly, Thank You Jesus, for having revealed this series to me, and for speaking to me through these ponies, reminding me of Your love, Your mercy, and most of all, Your friendship.

Nothing stays the same for long, but when it changes doesn't mean it's gone. Things may come and things may go. Some go fast and some go slow. Few things last, that's all I know. But Friendship, carries on through the ages.

#my little pony friendship is magic #my little pony season 9 #mlp finale #mlp ending #the end lf my little pony #my little pony the final season #twilight sparkle #rainbow dash #rarity #applejack #pinkie pie #fluttershy #discord #princess celestia #princess luna #sunset shimmer #starlight glimmer

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proxylynn · 5 years

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Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #17

Chapter 17: Inconvenience WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Time behind the bar ain't that bad. Grillby is a very patient man in his teaching of me. There are drinks that every bartender, and now barmaid, should know that are put into different categories. Sours, Fizzes, Lowballs, Three-parters, and Milk Drinks. Sours contain citrus juice, should be tart or at least tangy and are usually shaken in a cocktail shaker and served straight up. Freshly squeezed juices are critical here, often paired with simple syrup (sugar dissolved in an equal volume of water) to sweeten. Fizzes include anything with bubbles such as highballs, Champagne cocktails, Collinses, mules, bucks. These drinks can be incredibly simple and are clearly the most refreshing. Plus it is not difficult to keep a few six-packs of sodas and 750s of basic booze in your liquor cabinet. With Lowballs, these old school short cocktails are simply sweetened liquor zipped up with something bitter. The sweet can come from sugar, muddled with fruit or simmered into syrup, or a sweeter liqueur like triple sec or maraschino. The bitter can be a few dashes of any of a vast variety of bottled bitters, or a bitter spirit like an amaro. Three-parters are harder as these drinks are the most spirit-forward of the collection, a three-part combo of booze plus what's known as a "modifier" (a lower-alcohol ingredient like vermouth) plus a bitter or a syrup. Here we find drinks like the martini, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Negroni, boulevardier, Rob Roy and all of their bold and boozy cousins. Milk Drinks are like an odd member of this liquor family. Milk can be paired with beer, cider, wine, and spirits. It's weird but then again I'm not an expert that likes liquor. With that aside, there are ten basic drinks that are always ordered here. The Old Fashioned, Negroni, Daiquiri, Manhattan, Whiskey Sour, Dry Martini, Margarita, Moscow Mule, Mojito, and Sazerac. The Old Fashioned was the one Grillby had me make for Papyrus and it's one of those old drinks that never goes out of style but can be made with either bourbon or rye whiskey. Such changes apply to many drinks and this variety is how two drinks, even if they are the same in name, are never the same in taste. But the Old Fashioned is one of those drinks that takes some time to save in your memory due to its steps. Grillby at least keeps my starter training to the drinks with simple steps. Such as the Negroni which only needs three things to make it, 1 oz. London dry gin, 1 oz. Campari, and 1 oz. vermouth rosso. Another easy one, which the ladies tend to go for, is the Dry Martini which is made with 4 oz. gin or vodka and 1 oz. dry vermouth that is typically topped with an olive as a garnish. Grillby limits me to just two of these drinks to learn so that by repetitively making them they have a better chance of being remembered in my brain. Not a bad plan really. Then he plans on testing me the next day to see if I do recall how to make them before he tries teaching me any of the other ones. Yet other than that, I do the normal things a cocktail waitress would do, bringing drinks to patrons and making sure that they get their grub. All in all, not that bad of a job really. I could get used to this. It also helps that my new boss is a flaming sweetheart in a world of douche bags that is as fun to tease gently. "Oh, pussycat...Doggo's steak is ready." "On it, Grillmeister." "Don't forget to..." "Check if drinks and snacks need refilling." "That too. But I was going to say, don't forget to empty out his ashtray." "He needs to smoke his biscuits outside. Damn things stink. Besides, you're already smoking...hot." Grillby merely chuckles as I go about my duties. From the times when Sans and I are in the bar, I notice that Grillby has a certain mood when it comes to puns. If they are in good taste, flirty, or flattering, he's okay with them. But negative, hurtful, or just plain bad ones get him rather perturbed. "well don't you look busy..." Speak of the skeleton and he shall appear. "trying to make yourself look good for paps?" "As if. I take it it's your break time. My how time flies fast for the wingless." "what can i say? my bones are pretty hollow. perfect for flight." I wave my hand in a side to side wave. "A bit of a stretch with that one." He rubs the back of his skull as he approaches his bar stool. "yeah, not my best wordplay." Grillby pulls out a mustard bottle. "Rough day?" Sans takes it. "you can say that. i'm just...having an off day." "Want to talk about it?" Sans seems to mull this over before bringing the bottle to his mouth. "some other time maybe...though..." He gulps the condiment a few times. "if i can borrow her for a moment?" Grillby and I share odd looks of confused concern, but I give him a nod to which Grillby does as well. "Do you want a booth or somewhere less...occupied?" "here's fine." Grillby waves me over as I finish catering to Doggo and take the seat next to Sans. "Everything okay?" Sans stares off into nothing while drinking. "i've been thinking a lot today." I prop my arm on the bar and support my head in the palm of my hand. "What about? Normal stuff? Or...secret buddy stuff?" After a particularly long swig of mustard, Sans puts the bottle down and his left eye flares with a magical glow. Suddenly, the bar goes dark except for a spotlight of light on the two of us and looking around shows that everyone in the dark has frozen still as if someone paused a movie. "i can't do this for long. takes a lot of magic to stop time like this." Wait, what?! "You can stop time? Dude! That is fucking epic!" And just like that, I'm a five-year-old seeing a shark for the first time. "Is it all over or just in the bar?" "the bar. now please..." His tone is calm but holds a seriousness that I pick up on over my silly childishness. "Sorry. You wanted to talk now?" He toys with the bottle a bit. "for starters...how come you don't look at me or pap when you come back from seeing gaster?" I pout and cast my eyes to the floor. "I don't mean for it to be insulting. But after dealing with what Gaster does to me, I honestly can't bring myself to look at either of you until I've calmed down." "how come?" "Because...I can see him when I look at your faces. Like how if you stare into a light then look away, the image still lingers in your vision. It probably doesn't help that there's a family relation thing too. But after being in the void...being experimented on for god knows how long...His face remains in my sight for some time. The part that really messes with me is Papyrus...He...He resembles Gaster even on the good days." I rub my eyes trying to make them clear and Sans takes another drink. "yeah, pap and dings take after our old man in the looks department. me? i got my devilishly handsome mug from mommy dearest." Something clicks in my head that hadn't before. "You have parents?" He snorts an amused chuckle. "well duh. how else do ya think we came about? it's not like we were just thought up and poof there's a baby skeleton." "I know. I had a brain fart moment. It's just...Forgive me if I'm overstepping...But while in your home, I never saw anything showing a family memory of any sort." His eyes go dark for a moment except for the left that still holds it's glow. "we keep that stuff elsewhere in our past." A bad feeling squeezes my heart. "They...They fell down, didn't they?" He remains silent for a long time. I mentally kick myself for this. This is a scar I should not touch. "what happened in the void last night?" He speaks. At least that's something. I sigh, giving the fainting bruises on my arms a passing glance. "I requested his help in finding a way to control or suppress the Black Soul. As you can see...He has a very hands-on approach." A short weak laugh comes from that small pun. "are ya sure that's a good thing to do?" I glare at the foggy memory of what happened in that dead timeline. I wasn't in control but I saw things through a blurry dark window. So much hate. Such blood lust. That thing was less than human. A beast. "If going through the pain of his experiments is what is needed to make that THING go away and to prevent any of THAT from happening again...I think it's worth it." He breathes slowly for a bit. "just...be careful around him. gaster is like a, what do you humans call it...a wolf in sheep's clothing? he'll offer what you need, but not because he cares or anything. he does it because it helps him in the long run. if he sees something he can gain, he will do what is needed to get it." "I figured as much." That got him to look at me. "you know?" "No good deed is ever done 100% out of good intentions in this world we live in. Gaster is less than subtle with his wants. He wants to study my soul, that's his goal. I'm okay with it because my goal is being done in his little fun time. I'm using him just as much as he's using me. Simple as that." Sans shakes his head. "you're dealing with a devil that you can't possibly understand." I shrug. "Sacrifices must be made to keep any more death from happening. I am willing to be that lamb on the alter if needed." "i didn't take you for the martyr type." I turn my head to look at Grillby, standing still as he was in mid-pour from one of the taps. "I am many things. I am a fool. I am a human. I am sad. I am flawed. I am not supposed to be here. But here I am. And I refuse to be a beast that kills without hesitation or remorse. I don't want that event to ever happen again. That is my promise to all in the Underground. No one will die. I won't allow it." Sans eyes me before scoffing. This bugs me. "Did I say something weird to you?" "you can't keep anyone from dying down here." "The hell I can't." "okay...so what'll you do if someone just died in waterfall?" I sneer. "I can't do anything in that situation. One, I'm not God and lack omnipresence to know what's happening everywhere at all times. And two, you are the only one that can teleport." "exactly. you are not god. you can't stop things from happening. sure, you can tap into that quirky RESET thing, but it's not going to stop events that will still happen without you there. you are just an insignificant speck among countless other specks. your intent can be good, but in the end, is pointless." "Wow...Someone woke up on the bleak side of the mattress today." "i'm just being real. we all die. you. me. everyone in this room. all things on this planet. all of it will die one day. maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow. but someday." "Dude, have you been hanging out with my depression? Because I swear I've heard that before." "don't be a smart ass." "At least I have one." He growls at me as I smirk. "What's wrong? Was that too cheeky of me?" He clenches his teeth to hold in a laugh. "Butt...enough jokes. You still look like something is troubling you. And you might as well say it before your magic runs out on this freeze frame in time." He guzzles the bottle and brings it down rather hard. "ya wanna know what's on my mind? alright...tell me...what would you do if ya found out a monster had a thing for you?" Well, that escalated quickly out of nowhere. I can feel warmth pool in my cheeks and my mouth forms into a goofy dumb smile. "Why, Sans, I had no idea you cared." I know he didn't mean himself. But he's been so serious that I couldn't help but try to rattle him out of it. And boy did it rattle him good. His skull practically glows in crimson blush and the mustard bottle in his grip is squeezed to hell. He tries to form words to negate this but all that leaves him are these sounds of broken stumblings that aren't quite words or noise but a strange mix of the two. I end this for his sake. "Relax, buddy. I'm just messing with you. I know you don't like me like that. Hell, I'm pretty sure you see me as an abomination." His left eye starts twitching in building rage. But I continue as I let my free hand's fingers dance on the bar. "Though to answer your question...I'd be flattered really." That seems to surprise him and dispels his anger. "really?" "Yeah." "...why?" I close my eyes in thought. "I am not an expert when it comes to things like this. Matters of the heart and all that jazz. If I'm honest here...I like guys, but I've never really been one to actively seek out others. Heh...I'll let you in on a secret that's not so secret. Papyrus isn't the only one to never be on a date. And if you knew of how messed up human guys were you'd agree that it's smart not to do so. I can't say some monster guys are any different from those schmucks, but others..." I smile while opening my eyes. "The good ones leave a mark that I can't help but like." "is grillby one of those 'good ones'?" Hmmm...Me thinks he is trying to make a point here. Should I take the bait or dance around it? "My good sir, whatever do you mean?" Guess I'm dancing. And he is not happy about it. "cut the crap. i remember what happened when he was dying. i remember the kiss." "And?" "and?! ya can't just say and!" "Why not? I don't see what the big deal is. So we kissed. What's the issue?" "because!" I sigh and put a stop to the dance. "Why not just tell me what's really bugging you instead of trying to shoehorn it in like you're a dad trying to get me to admit to sneaking off with the local bad boy to make out in his car." He suddenly grabs me by the collar of my shirt and snarls in my face. "do not fuck with me! if you hurt my friend i swear to whatever fucked up god that'll listen, i will end you! i will unleash pain the likes of which..." "Hold it! You think I'd hurt Grillby?" My confused tone takes some of that anger down a bit. "...you're not stringing him along?" I put my hands up defensively. "Sans, buddy, why would I do that? Grillby is like the only guy/monster to be genuinely nice to me. I'd have to be a massive cunt to do that." "how do i know you're not lying?" "Would a heartless bitch cry over the guy she was using?" I slowly put my hands on his. "Look...I know this is weird. Hell, I'm still figuring things out on my end too. But since being down here I've learned one important thing...happiness is hard to find. So why not try to find it with someone that is wanting to do the same and actually likes me?" He sees I make a point but is still wary of me. "do you like him?" I cast my eyes at Grillby. "I do. But it's a small like. I guess in level terms it's a small crush. But what can one really expect with limited contact? As we hang out more, who knows. Maybe that level will increase to something stronger or this thing we have will never change. Only time will tell." "ya do know that if anyone finds out that you're human they'll kill him for treason, right?" That squeezing feeling happens on my heart again. This time it's more a harsh pain than dread. "You think I'm going to announce myself as human? That was the problem in the dead timeline. I have no intention of repeating that. Never again." He stares at me hard and I notice the glow in his left eye starting to flicker out. I let his hands go as his magic sputters to its end and the light expands to fill the bar, resuming time once more for those on the inside. Seeing this, Sans lets me go before anyone questions the odd scene that came out of nowhere for them. "glad we could have this talk." "Yeah. We should do it again sometime." Grillby eyes us as Sans places a small amount of gold on the bar. "oh, before i forget...pap has this idea that you're up to some cockamamie evil plan to lull us into a false sense of security." A snicker leaves me. "What? Why?" "personally, i think it's 'cause ya act nice in the morning and night. throws him off when he knows ya for being a bitch." "Yeah, I can see that. But he's just being paranoid. I'm more nice at those times because no one wants to deal with shit when the day starts or ends." "i hear that." Sans hops off his stool and I do the same. "Leaving so soon, Sans?" If only you knew, Grillby. "ya know how my bro gets. he gets all pissy if i'm away for even a second." Sans looks at me and for a moment I can't get a read off his skull. "you...be good, lynsie." A warm smile curls my lips. "It's messed up how I want to hug you right now." He shakes his head. "just like that, ya killed the moment." He walks off towards the door. "later, kiddo." A chuckle scoffs out of me. "Later, bonehead." He flips me off as he exits and all I do is smirk. "What a dork...But in a good way." "Things okay there, pussycat?" I give my flaming boss of a bartender a goofy thumbs up. "Things be swell, boss-man." I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of Grillby's glasses and I blush a little bit. "Geez, is that what I look like? No wonder Papyrus is suspicious of me. Heh...Barely recognized myself for a second." Grillby slides the drink he was pouring to Ugly Fish with a knowing smirk. "Seems like you're the one letting your guard down." "As dumb as it sounds, how can I not when I feel so comfortable here?" I stroll my dorky self back behind the bar and grab a dry rag to do some dish work. "It also helps if there's a warm someone that makes me smile every so often." I get to my tidying task and try not to notice Grillby inching his way closer as he goes about doing other things. "These smiles you speak of..." He's at the beer taps. "Would they be real ones..." He's by the wine rack. "Or ones made to give off the impression of happiness?" He's standing in front of where Sans and I were sitting. "As if you were wearing a mask maybe?" He's gotten beside me now and I slow down in my task. "...I say personal things when drunk, don't I?" "No, not really. But you're incredibly honest when tipsy that's for sure." I scold myself for being so weak. "Not to mention you're a bold one too..." Drunk Bun blurts out while looming out of her booth. "Took some real courage to kiss ol' Grillby there. But look at the luck you got. Now you have a cushy gig and spicy sugar daddy to play with. Girl power at it's finest." A bad taste coats my tongue as my stomach churns. I think I'm going to be sick. Grillby takes note of this distress when I nearly drop a mug in my trembling hands. He tries to settle my nerves with a hand on my shoulder. "Don't listen to her. You know that's not how things are." It's not working. I know she's wrong. But that's not to say the whole bar isn't thinking the same thing. That I'm using Grillby. Hell, even Sans thought I was. Why? Why is it hard to just be happy for once? "This was a mistake..." He flinches and I put my things down. "I'm sorry for troubling you." "Pussycat...?" I go to walk away but he blocks me. "Where do you think you're going?" "Home." "No. You're staying here." "I'm not staying." "Yes, you are." "I'm not staying in a place where everyone thinks I'm a whore!" "But you're not a whore!" "I know that!" "Then why are you getting upset?!" "I don't know! I just want to leave so no one has to see me...*quietly* cry..." I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and he frowns at me. "Go inside and rest. We'll talk later when you're feeling better." I feel like a snot-nosed kid about to yell for their lost parents. With what little dignity I have left, I just nod my head and he lets me pass to enter his home. Though once that door is closed behind me I have a hard time holding this back. I suppress any sound until I'm at least in the living room, but once there, I'm a mess. It's really annoying having to cry. Once the water starts going it's hard to make it stop. And odder still, you get used to it then want to cry more when it begins to stop. Shit is weird. I hope Grillby doesn't get mad at me for this. Making a sad nasty mess out of one of his sofa cushions. But I'm compelled to do it. To hold it in my arms as if I were holding someone else. This instinctual need to have contact, even if imaginary, just to feel some sort of comfort when feeling so low. Back on the surface, I'd simulate this by putting one of my jackets on a pillow and wrap the sleeves around my neck. Argh! I hate being so fucking weak! This shit shouldn't be getting to me! Since when do I give a shit about what others think of me?! This isn't right! Fuck this stupid soul for making me feel these stupid things! Ugh...I need to be coaxed down from this shit! I've gotta call Toriel. Her mothering is actually something I could use right now. That and a hug. I could so go for a hug right now! [RING] "Hello?" "*sniffling* Nanny..." "Lynsie, my child, are you all right?" "*crying* I was weak...My guard was down...Something stupid got under my skin and now...I can't make the tears stop." "Do you wish me to sing to you?" "*sniffles* Yes please..." As babying as it is, something about Toriel soothingly singing to me settles me down when I'm upset. "♪Cry if you want to. I won't tell you not to. I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you want me...There's no use in keeping a stiff upper lip, you can weep you can sleep you can loosen your grip. You can frown, you can drown and go down with the ship. You can cry if you want to. Don't ever apologize for venting your pain, it's something to me you don't need to explain. I don't need to know why I don't think you're insane. You can cry if you want to.♫" Toriel knows many songs, some from the past and others from human things that fell down here. This one, "Cry If You Want To" by Karen Drucker, is from my iPod's 'feel better' playlist. She's a nosy mom. "♪The windows are closed the neighbors aren't home if it's better with me then to do it alone. I'll draw all the curtains and unplug the phone. You can cry if you want to...You can start at the ceiling, tear at your hair, swallow your feelings and stagger and swear. You can show things, and throw things and I wouldn't care. You can cry if you want to...No I won't make fun of you. I won't tell anyone. I won't analyze what you do or you should have done. I won't advise you to go and have fun. You can cry if you want to.♫" My breathing is calmer and my grip on the sofa cushion is less harsh. She's good at this. "♪The windows are closed the neighbors aren't home if it's better with me then to do it alone. I'll draw all the curtains and unplug the phone. So you can cry...When it's empty and ugly and terribly sad, I can't feel what you feel but I know it feels bad. I know that it's real and it makes you so mad. That you could cry. Cry if you want to. I won't tell you not to. I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you want me to be near you.♫" The tears have stopped before her last note and god knows how much I miss being around her. "My child? You are silent now. Are you feeling any better?" I wipe my face. "I miss you. I miss you, mom." "I miss you too. Do you know if you are able to come home?" "Sans would probably help with that, but Papyrus doesn't leave me unsupervised, and now I have a job working at Grillby's that I don't want to fail at..." "Grillby's?" "It's a pub in Snowdin Town that they leave me in while they work." "...They leave my child in a bar for hours at a time?" "It's fine. Sans stops by regularly to keep an eye on me. And the owner is...nice." "Oh? This proprietor is treating you well?" "That would be Grillby, and yeah. You may remember me calling him a trouble maker for eavesdropping on one of our last phone calls. He's...without sounding like a huge dork...a great guy." "You sound like you are quite taken by him." "Heh...He has a way of warming his way into the heart." "Hmmmm..." "I think you'd like him. The man knows his way around a kitchen. I can totally picture the two of you sharing recipes and stuff. Maybe even an embarrassing story or two about me." "I am not sure how to take you talking him up like this." "I see where this is going, but I'm going to stop you before you say anything else...No. Grillby is not my boyfriend. We, at the most, have a mutual interest in each other. Whether this seed sprouts anything or remains sleeping in the soil is up to time. So, please...Try not to get all overprotective about it." "My child, if the man can not stand being burned than he has no place being near our kitchen." "Well he's made of fire so, I think he's fine with increasing temperatures." She snickers a bit off. "Darn. I will have to think of another means of keeping him in line then." I sigh. "What did I just ask you not to do? Would it help if you were able to talk to him?" "...It might." "I don't know when he'll go on break next but he'll come to check on me soon. He gave me a break when I had my break down." "Hmmm...Maybe there are some monsters with good left in them after all." That's what I was trying to...Calm down, she's just a bit messed up, it's normal. "Glad to hear you're willing to try." "So you will be calling me back within the hour?" "Depends on when he chooses to go on break. He runs the bar solo and me breaking down instead of aiding him doesn't help. Heh...Some first day huh?" "My child, you are a strong and trusting girl. You see the potential in others. You have hope that they will use that potential. You must also harden yourself for when those do not do so." "I know. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. My emotions have been out of whack. One moment I'm normal, tough as nails and with skin so thick that negativity bounces off like dust bunnies. The next moment I'm a weak wimpy mess, getting weepy over the stupidest and lamest of reasons." "Maybe this Grillby is allowing the softer emotions of a proper young lady come out?" "Nah. I blame my soul. Since being out here, two more odd colors showed themselves." "Two more?" "Yeah. Now there's pink and white. Ever since they appeared, this emotional flux has been happening. It's annoying the crap out of me. I'm not in control over how I want to feel anymore." "Welcome to being a woman, my child." That got a laugh out of me. "Good one, Nanny." "While this talk has been nice, my child, I must end it. I am slowly simmering some vegetables for a stew." "Ah...Not your super veggie stew. That's my fave." "Shame then that I have no one else to share it with." "No fair. I can't teleport." "Maybe if you are lucky, I will have some ready and be able to give it to Sans." "No with my luck as if late. Still, thank you, Nanny. You're the best." "*giggles* Take care, my child." "Laters, Mom." [CLICK] I sigh and shut my eyes, letting a small wave of calm wash over me. I needed that. I needed to hear her. I needed to feel like there was a parent I could talk to. Heh...So this is what having a mom feels like? I like it. [RING-RING] The phone goes off in my hand. Maybe Toriel forgot to mention something or perhaps Napstablook wants to share some tunes? I flip it open and see an unknown number. Who the hell knows this number? "Hello?" "HELLO THERE, DARLING~. TIS I, THE ALWAYS FABULOUS AND EVER DELIGHTFUL, METTATON! " And I thought Papyrus had an ego. Mettaton? How the fuck did he...Oh, wait... "You traced the number, didn't you?" Robotic giggles are my answer. "MY, AREN'T YOU THE CLEVER ONE." "Not to sound rude but...Why are you calling me? And if this is for TV I'm hanging up." "NO, NO, NO CAMERAS OR RECORDINGS GOING ON, I ASSURE YOU. THIS IS JUST A SIMPLE CALL ON MY PART BEING DONE IN MY PRIVATE TIME." That didn't sound weird at all...not. "Then what do I owe the honor of a celebrity giving lowly me a moment of your time?" "OH SUCH LOVELY WORDS. THE NICEST I'VE HEARD IN AGES. WELL...I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS. I AM AN ADMIRE OF YOUR KIND AND I FIND YOU PARTICULARLY INTERESTING, TO SAY THE LEAST." I rub the bridge of my nose. "I suppose I too have a few for you as well. We could go back and forth if that's okay with you?" "SO GENEROUS. THAT'S A VERY ATTRACTIVE QUALITY. BUT TO START THINGS OFF...HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I KNEW YOU WHERE ON THE PHONE WITH ME THE OTHER DAY?" Oh because I lived through your show before and died but no big deal. "Your show made no sense and was out of character. You were clearly reaching out for something. You created a situation that any normal person in the Underground would be okay with, killing someone deemed guilty. But you weren't looking to be called by a monster...you wanted me. The human that shows mercy." "HEHEHEHEH...YOU REALLY ARE SOMETHING ELSE. I LOVE IT. YES, DARLING, YOU SAW RIGHT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. I APPLAUD YOU." "Now my turn...How did you find out about me?" "DEAR, YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS. I WON'T SAY WHERE OR HOW MANY, BUT THERE ARE SECURITY CAMERAS PLACED FROM OUTSIDE THE RUINS ALL ALONG THE PATH LEADING TO SNOWDIN TOWN." My eye twitches. "What?" "OH YES. BUT NO WORRIES, DEAR. THOSE CAMERAS ARE NOT FOR TELEVISION PURPOSES. THEY ARE SOLELY FOR THE DETECTION OF HUMANS. IT'S HOW I'VE BEEN MONITORING YOUR PROGRESS." Great, just what I need, another guy watching over me that I can't do shit about. "BUT LIKE I SAID, THE CAMERAS ONLY ARE ON THE PATH TO TOWN FROM THE RUINS. THERE ARE SADLY NONE IN THE TOWN ITSELF." "That's something at least." "CAMERA SHY? HOW ADORABLE." "You sound so different off-screen." One of my inner thoughts became voiced. "...HOW SO?" Okay, he's not miffed about it. Maybe I can chat with him like normal. "In shows, you come off like everybody else. But this...You seem more at ease. Comfortable. Nice." There's a pause on his end for a bit. "I believe it's your turn." "OH...HUH...MIGHT I GET A TAD PERSONAL WITH THE QUESTIONS?" "Does that question count as your turn?" "NO." "Then...Maybe. Nothing too personal. I don't know you aside from the TV personality." "THAT CAN CHANGE, DARLING~. I AM MORE THAN DELIGHTED IN SHARING ALL THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT MYSELF WITH YOU." Thank god this phone can't do pictures. Because this suddenly is giving me creepy vibes that don't need visual aids. "AS FOR MY QUESTION...WHAT ARE THOSE SKELETONS DOING WITH YOU? LAST THING I SAW OF YOU WAS THAT TALL ONE CARRIED YOU OFF AFTER SMALLER ONE RAN TO YOU ON THE FAKE BRIDGE." "Why so interested?" "I ASKED MY QUESTION FIRST, DARLING." I'm a house bitch to guys that half the time can't tell if they want me dead or not. "I'm a pet." ...Why would you let me say that, brain?! "A PET?" "Yeah? Kind of? It's complicated in a completely humiliating way that I'm not really at liberty to discuss." "BUT A PET? REALLY?" "I know. But hey, it beats being killed for my soul." "IF I HAD FOUND YOU, YOU WOULD NOT BE A PET." "Oh?" "A RARE GEM LIKE YOU SHOULD BE TREASURED. I WOULD..." "Gonna cut you off there. Don't. Just, don't." "I BEG YOUR PARDON?" "You're being cliché. I'm not a fan of clichés. And you were about to ring the oldest cliché bell." "I ASSURE YOU THAT IS NOT THE CASE." "Let me take a stab at what you were going to say...*ahem* A rare gem like you should be treasured. I would tend to your every desire. You'd be a queen. My queen. Nothing is beyond my power if it meant I'd be with you...That come any close to where you were going?" "...I WILL ADMIT TO ABOUT 5% OF THAT BEING ON THE NOSE. THE REST I FIND GOOD ENOUGH TO USE IN A SCRIPT FOR LATER." "I watch a lot of anime so when I feel a yandere vibe I tend to try to avoid it." "YANDERE?" "How do I put it? I guess you can define it as strongly and deeply infatuated, head-over-heels, obsessed, or love-struck but without really feeling the true emotion yet believing that you do. In anime and other things that use this type of character, it's usually a girl that starts out being genuinely kind, loving, or gentle, but suddenly switches to being aggressive, twisted, or deranged, often homicidal when things don't go with how they plan out their little 'love story'." "OOOH...YES, I'VE SEEN MANY OF THOSE TYPES IN ALPHY'S ANIMES. I THINK SHE HAS A THING FOR IT." "Alphys...? The name sounds familiar." "SHE'S THE ROYAL SCIENTIST." "Oh yeah. I forgot about that." "YOU HEARD OF HER?" "Small talk from the skele-bros. Not much else." "SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT. I HEAR THEY DON'T REALLY CARE FOR HER. NOT MANY DO." "She's that bad?" "DEPENDS ON WHAT END OF THE SYRINGE YOU'RE ON." Well, that's not cool. Suddenly a faint beeping is heard on his end. "OH SHOOT!" "Something wrong?" "MY TIMER IS GOING OFF. I'M AFRAID I HAVE TO END THIS PLEASANT CONVERSATION, DARLING. I CAN'T KEEP MY OBNOXIOUS FANS WAITING." "The show must go on as they say." "I LOOK FORWARD TO TALKING WITH YOU AGAIN, DEAR. IT'S SO HARD TO FIND SOMEONE TO HAVE A DECENT CONVERSATION WITH THAT DOESN'T SWEAR EVERY FIVE WORDS." "Same. We should do this again sometime. Heh...If I can be honest, I was feeling like crap till this. It's nice to get lost in talk and forget about life for a while." "THE SOONER YOU CAN COME TO HOTLAND THEN THE BETTER. I THINK WE COULD USE EACH OTHER TO GET THROUGH THIS LIFE A LOT EASIER." "Not sure if I can. As you can guess, as a human, I'm on lockdown from really going anywhere." "AND THAT'S A PROBLEM BECAUSE...?" There's that vibe again. "Don't do whatever it is you're thinking about." "SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU. *FAKE STATIC* LOSING CONNECTION...*FAKE STATIC* SEE YOU SOON~." [CLICK] I glare at nothing and close the phone. "I'm gonna be abducted, I just know it. *sigh* Where is Liam Neeson when you need him?" Better get back to Grillby. I hate leaving him hanging because of some stupid emotional bullshit. But first...Make a backup plan in case of Mettaton creepiness. I reopen the phone and hit up my buddy. [RING-RING] "hello?" "Yo, Blooky. It's me." "L-Lynsie? is something wrong?" "Kind of. I just got a weird phone call and was hoping you'd keep on alert in case of something happening." "what happened?" "Mettaton called me." His side goes eerily quiet. "He is planning things. Doing things that are to get my attention. I believe his next course of action will either mean I'll be taken to Hotland or he may force me to travel there by threatening to expose my humanity. I wanted to inform you because I trust you, Blook-man. I have faith in you to help me when the time comes." Still, he's silent. "Napstablook?" "...he's always been like this." "What?" "...there's something I've been keeping to myself. no one else knows this. can you keep it a secret?" "Buddy, dude, this is me we're talking about. Nothing you tell me will ever leave me without a hell of a fight...or super torture. I'm only human after all." "*nervous* okay...*gulp* you see...Mettaton...he's my cousin." "...Ghost boy say what now?" "I know...it's his most secret of secrets. no one else knows except for that Alphys woman. she's the one that tempted him away with the promise of a 'perfect body'. damn bitch...we ghosts long for bodies. they allow us to feel alive again. but finding something that connects with us is easier said than done." Something clicks in my head. It was a while ago, but that moment stayed fresh due to how sad it was. "*cries* why did you go? you told me you wouldn't leave me behind...you said family sticks together...so why? why did you leave me all alone?!" Now it makes sense. Mettaton left him all alone and, based on how cherry Mettaton is now, he's not very concerned about breaking his promise to Napstablook. No wonder this poor spook hides away in the Ruins, home reminds of too much that he has no one. I need to help him. I want to fix this. "Napstablook..." "yeah?" "I'm getting that feeling when I'm gonna do something that might get me in trouble." "dare I ask what that dumb thing is?" "I'm thinking of running over to Waterfall and finding you so I can give you a hug that's been on hold for what feels like weeks but not really sure on how long." "...okay, that was kind of sweet. but for real, do not do that." "But if I did..." "please don't." "But if I did...What would be the fastest way that avoids being killed? Hypothetically speaking that is." "you're not listening to a thing I'm saying." "I am too." He sighs loudly with annoyed exhaustion. "can't believe the things you can make me do...I am only saying this because of Mettaton and I don't want something crazy to happen." "You're awesome, Blook-man." "just let me say this before I end up regretting it more than I already do." "Sorry." "see...there is a transport between Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland. if you take it, it will drop you off literally right outside from where my house is." I feel slightly pissed off about that. "Wait...So I could've been over there days ago? What the fuck, man?" "you told me not to get involved so I didn't say anything." I slap myself. "what was that?" "Realization hitting my face in the form of my hand. *groan* I'm my own worst enemy sometimes." "Lynsie...just please don't try to use it. if the royal guard is really keeping you and not turning you in, then running away is just going to piss them off." "I know, I know. I'm not going to do it. At least...Not as impulsively as I kind of feel like doing. I'm going to think things through before acting. Make a plan and all that jazz." "look at that. you're learning." "I try." "that's something, I guess." A sudden sound gets my attention. A door shutting. Better wrap this up. "I have to go, Blooky." "everything okay?" "Just life going on. I'll call again later." "alright. be careful, Lynsie." [CLICK] I quickly tuck the phone back in my pocket as Grillby's glow comes into view just a bit before he does. "Pussycat...?" "Hey there, boss. Sorry I'm doing so bad at this." He sighs with relief. "You're fine. I'm just glad to see you're feeling better." I get up and stretch. "Don't know what's up with my emotions lately. I've been so sensitive these last few days. It's freaking pissing me off really." "I might have a theory on why that is." "R-Really?" He waves me over and I oblige. "Remember when I told you about soul surges and how it's very typical of in monsters going through puberty?" No...Don't tell me something super humiliating and dumb is happening to me. Please, man, don't! "Y-Yeah?" "Well...When a monster goes through puberty, it's more than just their body, their magic does too. The soul begins to produce stronger magic and in higher quantities than in youth." "Grillz, please, don't tell me I'm going the 'change' again. Human puberty sucked enough to live through." He simply shrugs. "Again, it's just my guess. But based on what you told me, how your soul is getting used to being around magic and turning on old things in your DNA, it's likely that you are." I groan loudly and claw at my face. "It would explain the mood swings and sensitivity." I hate my life so much right now. "How long does this magic puberty last?" "Honestly? It varies from person to person. Could be weeks or even months. It all depends on how fast your soul takes to mature." My groan is even louder. "This is so much bullshit!" "Are you really telling me your 'mother' didn't tell you any of this?" I laugh at the idea of Toriel tell me about anything that sounds like I'm growing up. "Heheh...Nope. She told me nothing. She sees me as her 'child' and 'young one'. I would bet so much gold on her hiding any knowledge of the very concept of me 'maturing'." He smirks. "Sounds like she's not one to allow the birds to leave the nest so to speak." "Yeah. It's why she has me call her so often a day. But I don't mind. She has a bad history that she doesn't talk about, so...She's afraid the same mistake will happen again so she tries to prevent change." "That's understandable." "She also would like to have chat with you." That catches him off guard. "With me? Why?" I smirk. "Oh, no reason really. She just wants to get to know the nice guy that's letting me work in his lovely establishment. But no worries. Toriel is more intimidating than harmful." His eyes widen boldly. "T-Toriel? Your mother...the one down here...is the Queen?" I merely shrug. "So it would seem, my good man. Yet while she's Queen to you, all I see is my silly overprotective mum that can flip faster than a greasy light switch." I haven't seen much negative emotion on Grillby, just once and that was anger. But this? His breathing increases rapidly and his flames spark nervously. Is he having a panic attack? "Grillby?" "Don't make me talk to her!" Yep, this cool hot head is freaking out. "No one is making you do anything. So please, chill before you roast me. You're pumping out heat like a furnace." He fiddles around with his outfit, keeping his hands busy as a means to distract some part of his mind from the frightful thoughts it holds. "I...I can't believe it..." "What's that, boss?" "I can't believe I surged to the Queen's daughter." I blush with a smirk. "Ow. You wound me. You make it sound like a bad thing." He flinches and waves his hands in a small defensive panic. "N-No! No! I didn't mean it like that." I pat his shoulder. "Relax, Grillz. I'm only goofing." He sighs and leans on me. "You're going to be like this the whole time your soul is maturing, aren't you?" "Maybe." "..." "Grillby?" I feel his mouth press to my forehead. "Why are all the best people just a little bit crazy?" My mind blanks for a second. "Are...Are you really asking me or saying a rhetorical question?" He chuckles and moves off me. "Come, pussycat. There is still more to teach you before the clock times out." What just happened? Why was that funny? I'm so confused. "Sure, boss." I follow him back out into the bar and the few glances the patrons give me are either of fear or annoyance. I know not what Grillby did when I fled, but whatever it was, others are not liking this favoritism he's giving me. This instills a new mini-goal in my head. Keep this soul/emotion shit under control and do not bring attention to myself for the remainder of my time here. God, my life sucks. [Many hours later] "PICK UP THE PACE, SANS. DON'T THINK I CAN'T RECOGNIZE WHEN YOU START DRAGGING YOUR FEET." "geez, boss, ya sound like you actually wanna go there more than i do." "PLEASE. I MERELY WISH TO GET THIS DAY OVER WITH. IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT WE MUST STOP THERE BEFORE WE CAN GO HOME." "yep. ain't life funny that way?" In all honesty, Sans wasn't looking forward to returning to the bar despite his joking attitude. The human was slowly making him want to keep away by just being there. Sure, confronting her about Grillby was a start and seeing those eyes of hers go from green to amber as her words got stronger. Made it hard not to believe those words. It's not like she wasn't right in the things she said. She wasn't using Grillby and, next to Sans himself, felt the most hurt seeing the barkeep dust away. Still, he didn't like it. He didn't like how nice they were to each other. He didn't like the flirting. He didn't like that they were closer than any monster and human should. It made him feel weird. And he hated feeling it. Papyrus opens the door to the pub and, aside from the faces that clearly fear or resent him, is met with a slightly warm welcome by the human. This facade does not fool the wise skeleton, no, not in the least. She may have his brother under the illusion of harmlessness, but not him. Just looking at her aroused all sorts of suspicion. If she was capable of breaking into their home than that's enough to have her thought of being capable of doing anything else. "That time already, gentlemen?" The fire elemental's pleasantries are cast aside by the larger brother. "SKIP THE FALSE CARE ACT, GRILLBY. YOU KNOW WHY I BOTHER COMING HERE." "Clearly not for the service." Snidely remarks the human while sweeping around the dog's poker table. "NO ONE ASKED YOU!" "but in a way, yes. we're taking your 'help', grillz." Grillby sighs. "Yeah, I know. Time to punch out, pussycat." She raises her brow playfully. "But I thought hitting was against the rules?" The bartender chuckles. "See you tomorrow, pussycat." She brings the broom behind the bar, shakes Grillby's hand, and moves to wait by the front door. "I SEE YOU HAVE IMPROVED HER LISTENING ABILITY." "She's not a pet, Papyrus." "I DISAGREE. BUT WHATEVER." "What is it that you want?" "WELL? HOW WAS SHE?" "Isn't that why you had Sans watch?" "DON'T BE DIFFICULT AND JUST SAY YOUR PEACE ALREADY." Grillby glares with a slight rumble. "Don't be a dick, Papyrus!" The human was butting in more than the skeleton liked. "IF YOU BARK ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR, I SHALL THROW YOUR ASS OUT THAT WINDOW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BITCH?!" She waves Papyrus off dismissively and he snarls angrily. "Lynsie has been a source of great aid. I doubt you believe me, given how much you seem to dislike her. But maybe that's just because you feel inadequate about being able to handle her." Sans's sockets widen as the bar pretty much goes stunned and Papyrus is less than happy. "WHAT DID YOU JUST...?" "You're a smart man, Papyrus. But you lack skills to deal with people. More to the point...Skills with dealing with women." "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW, MY PEOPLE SKILLS ARE..." "Poor as shit!" "BITCH, DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!" "i think you're making his point, bro." "DON'T YOU START WITH ME, SANS." "To be fair, you do have to forgive pussycat for some of her words and behavior." "LIKE HELL I DO." "how come?" Grillby removes his glasses and huffs on them before wiping then putting them back on. "I had a little chat with her in private and we came to learn something. And since you boys are housing her, I think you should know about this." He waves the brothers in closer and they reluctantly oblige. "*hushed* Her soul is in the processes of maturing. Being down here is jump-starting her body's natural magic production. So she's a tad sensitive till it's over." Papyrus finds himself blushing whereas Sans is on the verge of a giggle fit. "*snickering* can you repeat that?" "Don't be a dick, Sans. No one goes through this well. Not even us." "*snickering* this is just too rich...i fucking love it." "SO...WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS...SHE'S VULNERABLE?" The grin on Papyrus has Grillby immediately regrets opening his mouth. "Forgive me, pussycat!" She looks puzzled before her eyes widen and her cheeks burn a flaring crimson in flustered realization. "You told them?!" "Lynsie, please..." She fumes, baring her teeth and seething into a chilling agitated calm. "You will pay dearly for this." She slams the door as she storms out and Grillby cringes with thoughts of the unknowns a moody woman is willing to unleash on him. One idea, in particular, makes the man of flame shiver with cold. "we should go after her." "DAMN, WOMAN. ALWAYS SUCH A PAIN." Papyrus follows the brooding human and Sans attempts to do the same, but Grillby's hand on his shoulder stops him. "huh?" "Sans...We need to talk." Sans blinks with uncertainty but nods slightly. "uh...sure." Sans sits down at the bar and orders a drink. This is going to take some time. "so...what do ya want to talk about? " Grillby looks uncomfortable and makes his voice low. "Sans...Do you know who is hurting her?" To that, the skeleton smirked. "you need to be a bit more specific than that." Grillby did not take this answer well. His hands slap the bar harshly, threatening to sear the gloss off the wood. "I am not playing around. I saw the bruises. Who is hurting her?" Mirth leaves Sans's skull as he drinks deep from his bottle of yellow condiment. "you wouldn't believe me even if i told you who it was." "Try me." Sans sighs, his fingers tap along the bottle. "let's just say...someone from my past has come back and taken an interest in her." Grillby doesn't like this either. But before he can voice his concerns Sans speaks up. "before you say it, no. his interest in her isn't the same as yours." Grillby's eyes widen a bit and his professional demeanor falters. "W-What? I don't know what you're talking about." Sans rolls his eyes. "look, it's kinda painfully obvious the two of you have this 'thing' with each other. and, if i'm being honest, i don't like it." "Sans..." "but...*huff* i ain't gonna be that asshole that gets involved in his buddy's private life. so...whatever." The barman smiles softly. "Thanks." "yeah, yeah, it's not like i care or some shit. just warning ya before you do something moronic by trying to get with her. bitches be crazy." That earns the skeleton a few dirty looks from the women in the bar, though some of the guys agree. "If that's the case...Are you willing to help me smooth things over with her?" Sans snorts a laugh that almost has the mustard shoot out his nasal opening. "are ya nuts? no way. you're the one that put your foot in your mouth." "She's not the kind of girl to try to get even, is she?" Sans could see this was making Grillby squirm. Part of him found it hilarious. The other part was starting to get hungry and knew Papyrus would be pissed if he wasn't there for dinner. Better get this over with soon. "don't know. but is she is, i'm willing to bet she wouldn't do anything spiteful or malicious. kid's all bark and weak bite. it's gonna get her killed one of these days." Grillby sighs with relief yet recalls something left unanswered. "This 'person from your past'...?" "i'm gonna stop ya right there." Sans downs the remains of the bottle with gusto. "i'm handling it. that's about all i'm at liberty to say. heh...i don't want her pissed at me too for saying things she tells me." To that Grillby felt odd. Of course Sans would know things no one else would about the human. She lives at his house and is easier to get along with than his brother. Still, a small ember of envy burns in him for knowing of this. What things could she have shared with Sans yet not him? How much trust would he need to earn for her to have that much faith in him as well? Sans is a lucky man indeed. "well...i better get going. pap might not handle her new moodiness well if on his own." "Wait! One last question." "okay. what is it?" "Do...Do I have anything to worry about with her 'mother'?" The question and Grillby's nervousness are random but interesting to Sans. "she's told you about her old lady?" Gribbly merely nods. "in my opinion...ya got nothing to worry about. she never leaves the ruins. though...i can't say she won't break that self-enforced rule if something were to happen to her kid. know what i mean?" Grillby nods again as Sans hops off his stool and puts down a small amount of gold. However... "You're short, Sans." Oddly enough, that made the skeleton snarl. "i ain't fucking short!" He really wasn't, 5'4" isn't what most would call short. But when living in a town where just about everyone, including your younger brother but not counting kids and slimes for obvious reasons, is over six feet, it's no surprise it leaves a pretty big chip on your shoulder. If anything, the only thing short about Sans was his temper when called that. Though that too was short lived when met with Grillby's annoyed glare. "I meant the amount, Sans." Nervous chuckles leave the bonehead. "right, my bad. it's all i got on me." To make his point, he pulls the empty insides of his pockets out and small lint bits fall. Grillby shakes his head disapprovingly. "hey, no need for that look. you know i'm good for it. just put it on my tab." A perturbed groan leaves the barman as Sans makes his leave. One of these days Grillby is going to call that tab in full and both men will be sorry. [Meanwhile: Sans & Papyrus's house] Papyrus didn't have far to go to catch up with the human. She was making a beeline for the house and seemed to know he was following since left the door open for him to enter when she kicked it in. What harsh reprimanding he was going to roar at her died in his nonexistent throat when he caught the full strength of her icy glare as she headed for the stairs. "Do not start with..." She pauses to take a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I am not myself. Please allow me to calm down before I end up doing something regrettable." Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to get in her face and pummel her face into the floor till it was nothing more than a stain on the floor. There were only two reasons he wasn't going to do that for. One, he didn't feel like wasting time cleaning bloody bits out of the carpet. And two, if what Grillby said is true, then her odd behavior as of late was more understandable. The Ruins were said to be abandoned or in the least home to a few monsters that couldn't take being around the majority, so the concentration of magic within must be very weak as opposed to out here in Snowdin with it's higher population of monsters. Soul maturing is an odd and uncomfortable stage. Even the mighty Papyrus went through it with less grace than he'd care to tell. Full of angst, rebellion, and pent up unknown feelings, with a need to just lock himself away because he felt like no one understood what he was going through. Ah, the silliness of youth. Knowing this, the great and terrible Papyrus relents...for now. "FINE." That was all that needed to be said. She nods and ascends the stairs, taking retreat to the bathroom. "Rough day?" The flower speaks up but Papyrus ignores it. He tended to do that as much as possible. He didn't know why exactly. There was just something in the back of his skull that made him distrusting of the floral fellow. Like a memory that was blurry but you still got a feeling from even if you're not sure it's real. He is about to shut the door just as Sans makes his way into view. "sup." Papyrus just motions him to enter and locks the door by the time he does. "dare i ask...?" "UPSTAIRS." "ah. and do you know...?" "NO. I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S DOING AND I DON'T CARE SO LONG AS NOTHING IS DAMAGED." Typical Papyrus. "you really think she'd be stupid enough to break something of ours?" "YOUR STUFF IS NOT MY CONCERN. SHE CAN BREAK THAT JUNK FOR ALL I CARE." "gee. thanks, bro." "Is anyone going to let me know what happened?" The flower chimes in again. And again Papyrus ignores it as he heads to his room. Sans kicks his shoes off and tosses his jacket over the sentient plant. "don't worry about it, weed. if you were meant to know, we'd tell ya." Flowey shakes the jacket off and glares as Sans too heads to his room, but not before knocking on the bathroom door. "you alright in there?" Nothing is heard other than the shower. "hey, ya don't have to worry. pap and i aren't gonna mess with you...much." Still nothing. "fine, baby soul, be like that. just don't come crying to me when you feel bad. i mean that literally. i ain't helping you." He starts to walk but then stops. "oh! and don't forget, you're making dinner. pap only let that slide because you were practically dead. so don't get any ideas thinking you can get out of it." "Did you just really say that?!" Shouted not her but the flower. "the hell is your problem?" "Did you really just insinuate she'd harm herself?" "i dunno...maybe?" "You can't say that kind of stuff to her!" "why not?" Flowey just stares at the skeleton oddly before realization clicks. "You...You don't know how she came to the Underground, do you?" This had Sans's attention. "she told me that she fell." Flowey becomes uneasy. He produces several vines and, rather impressively, repels himself up to the banister where he swings through the railing to plant his pot on the floor. "wow. a plant that parkours. see something new every day." "I'm not comfortable telling you this, seeing as she hasn't and I don't think it's my place, but I can't let you say idiotic things like that." Sans kneels down imposingly. "okay, weed, you have intrigued me. if she didn't fall, then how did she get here?" Flowey rubs his leaves nervously. "Well...Falling is how she came to the Underground. But...She didn't fall from an accident." If color could drain from a skull it would be doing so for Sans. "you're telling me she..." "She fell on purpose. She...was trying to die." Flowey shirks inward, not liking this subject and feeling like he's broken some bond of trust. "I don't know about her life on the surface. She doesn't tell anyone about that stuff, not even Mom. But I have been with her since the start and I can tell...Under all that toughness and pass the goofy dork innards...She's very sad deep down." A new expression comes to Sans, a look of reverence and understanding. The human put up with a lot being down here and more for just being with the brothers. But she never seemed to be like what the flower had said. How bad was the surface to drive her to end it all and yet want to live down here? "Um...You won't tell her I said anything, will you?" Sans's thoughts broke yet kept him a bit cloudy, hearing only bits and pieces of what Flowey said. "huh? oh...no. i ain't opening my yap about this." Flowey sighs with relief until the sounds in the bathroom are less water based and more like someone getting ready to come out. In a panic of getting busted, Flowey throws Sans under the proverbial and shoves the skeleton into the door before repelling back to the table on which he stays. Obviously pissed about this, Sans growls and aims to go pluck every petal from the flower's head. Yet before he can even get off his bony butt the door to the bathroom opens to give him a bit of a bop that wasn't all that hard. Understandably, the confused human in a towel peeking halfway out the door. "Sans?" Sans gave her one look before he turned away trying hard not to blush, grateful that the cloth was long enough to cover her form. Though his behavior gave her the impression of something bad happening. "Are you okay? Oh shit, I didn't hit you, did I? I'm so sorry. I didn't know..." "i'm fine. just stumbled is all. now go put something on, will ya? i can't deal with ya when like that." Recalling the last incident that was bathroom related, she pulls the towel up more and goes back inside. "My bad." He rubs his skull. "it's fine. you were just concerned." He picks himself off the floor and tries to regain his cool. "So I was thinking...How does some comfort food sound?" "depends. what ya thinking?" "Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Provided we have that stuff." "...yeah, we got that. i did some 'shopping' earlier." "Sweet. Thanks, buddy." The door opens moments later. "Will Pap be okay with such a menu? Do I need to brace myself for impact once he knows?" "if it was other soup than yeah. he's got a thing for the tomato stuff." "So I've noticed." He looks her up and down, nothing is different besides the towel wrapped around her hair. "What?" "you're wearing the same thing you had on." "I'm limited in my clothes here. It's not like I can go across the street to Nanny and change. The other outfit I got is in need of washing but I don't trust Pap not to trash or burn it just to piss me off." "seems legit." She goes to walk past him and what the flower told him has him feeling guilty. "hey..." She stops at the top of the stairs. "Yeah?" His jaw clenches, words struggling to form as he determines if he should say something or not. "i...i didn't...that stuff i said..." "Dude, chill, we're cool. Don't stress over it." Is she forgiving him so easily? "we are?" "Yeah. I'd probably say that stuff too if someone was getting close to my buddy too. But that just shows how good of a friend you are. I respect that." Sans felt dumbstruck. Did she not hear him at all? Fuck it! Roll with it. "y-yeah. thanks. i was just being cautious is all." "I get it. That's why we're cool. You don't want to see him hurt. I don't want to hurt him. That's why we're just friends. No rushing into unknown territory here. That's for sure. Not with this damn thing being so unstable." She points to her chest and, while he knows she means her soul, he sees a joke opportunity. "yeah...with a set of knockers that big, i can imagine it being hard to stable." His grin is cocky and the only clue that has her realizing what just happened. Her expression goes from puzzled to sly snickering when she gets the joke. "Ah yes, these annoying chest bags. Hard to miss such large targets. Good jab, my friend." She took the punches and merely walks off downstairs to get cooking. That had him feeling a little off. Normally she would at least give him a quick quip back. Maybe she was in a bad mood under all that nice. He rolls his shoulders and goes to his room. She'll let them know when dinner is ready anyway. "Lynsie? Are you okay?" Flowey comes into the kitchen, he sets himself on the counter beside me as I butter bread while the pan heats up and a pot of soup warms. "Yeah, I'm fine. Got to chat with Toriel today." "Oh? How is she?" "Missing us. She even tempted me with my favorite meal." "Low blow." "Did make me wanna go though. Not gonna lie. That sew is the bomb." "What are you? A cheesy 90's character?" "Word, yo. I'm super funky fresh to the max." He shakes his head in disappointment but his giggling says otherwise. "But for real...Did anything happen today? You came home upset." I sigh. "I'm going through magic puberty. That's as blunt as I can possibly be about it." I can almost hear the gears in his head grind while I add some milk to the soup. "...What?" "From what I understand, my soul's starting to produce magic to match my body's age and it's something that can influence my emotional state. *groans* Just like when I was twelve going on thirteen. Nothing like the last day of sixth grade to be welcomed into the wacky world of womanhood." "...Is puberty really that bad?" "It sucks for everyone, boy or girl. It's only different for each gender. With us girl humans, we know when we hit our moment when we suddenly gain weight fairly quickly. Then our chests begin to store fat, aka, make these annoying things. Depending on genetics, other parts store fat too. Our growth rate slows down. Hormones start changing things on the inside that affect the outside to the point where you can become a completely different person to anyone that knows you. And then there's a thing I'm not even going to mention because I'm making food right now but will allude to it being gross as hell." He cringes as I put the sandwiches into the pan, making a loud sizzling hiss. "That sounds awful." "It is. But we all have to go through it and learn to deal with it. Because no enemy is greater in this world than yourself. Yet if you can tame yourself than that enemy becomes your greatest ally." One hand of mine holds a spatula to flip the sandwiches and the other a long spoon that keeps stirring the soup. "So it gets better eventually?" "Kind of. But you hardly notice any of this after enough time passes." "Growing up sounds like a pain." "All I can say is this...Enjoy youth to the fullest. You don't have to give up being a kid when you grow up, but it does get turned down a bit. Back on the surface, I still have toys. I have video games and comic books. Sure, I don't play with them as often as I used to. But just seeing or holding them feels good. Let's me know the happiness I once had can never truly die." The mood gets a bit somber as I flip the sandwiches and restart that sizzling hiss. "Flowey..." "Yeah?" "Can I have a hug?" He jerks a little in surprise. "Where did that come from?" "Just feel like I want one. If that's okay?" He closes himself off and I know I asked too much. I focus on my cooking, turning the burners off when the soup begins to bubble and the sandwiches are a lovely golden hue. I go about covering the food to keep it hot as I head out into the living room. "Yo, bone-boys! Food's ready!" It takes a few seconds to hear Sans pop into the kitchen while it takes a moment or two for Papyrus to appear at his door. "Evening, Papyrus." "HUMAN." He heads down the stairs as I enter the kitchen and Sans comes out with a sandwich in his teeth. "Gooey enough for you?" He nods in content while dunking the sandwich into a mug of soup. "WHAT TRAVISTY HAVE YOU BROUGHT ABOUT MY KITCH WITH THIS TIME?" Feeling funny, I get hammy. "Forsooth, my lord of bone. I present thee with broth made from the berry of nightshade. And bread, grilled gold that has hidden within the finest viscus form of bovine lactation." Papyrus stares at me funny before looking at Sans. "THE FUCK DID SHE JUST SAY?" "tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." "OH. THAT'S NOT SO BAD." "I thank thou." He flicks my forehead. "NO. BAD HUMAN. STOP THAT." I snicker. "Shall I serve you or..." "I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF GETTING MY OWN." "Of course. I merely just wanted to treat you after a hard day's work. Unless, of course, that's just part of my evil plan to lull you into a false sense of security. Oooooh." I tease and he glares at me hard before do so to Sans. "YOU TOLD HER, DIDN'T YOU?" "she ain't a threat and ya know it." "SHE IS NOW!" "the worst she can do is annoy us." "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" "Master..." Papyrus flinches. "How can I prove to you that I mean you and your brother no harm?" "YOU CAN'T." [You give Papyrus the puppy dog eyes of guilt.] He backs up a bit. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" [You keep doing it.] He sweats a little. "S-STOP THAT." [You strengthen the look.] He looks to Sans but his brother is enjoying every moment. "MAKE HER STOP!" "why? she ain't hurting nobody." [You are determined to make him understand.] [It works...Papyrus gives in...but only so you'll stop.] "FINE! YOU'RE NOT A THREAT! NOW STOP MAKING THAT LOOK!" I smile and bow. "That is the extent of my power. I am now powerless since my secret is revealed. Congratulations!" He shoves past me and Sans laughs. "dinner and a show. today just gets better and better." I follow Papyrus in to take Flowey back to his table and he leaves the kitchen with his food as I get Flowey's portion before my own. "So..." I sit down with Flowey away from the one skeleton looking to kick my ass. "Will I be sleeping in the shed tonight? Because if so, a blanket would be very appreciated." "i'm fine with ya being indoors. pap, your thoughts?" Papyrus snarls while chewing. "he didn't say no." Papyrus gulps down his mouthful. "YOU DO NOT TALK FOR ME...BUT HE ISN'T WRONG." "Really?" "whoa. you said i'm right? i think hell froze over." "*GROAN* WHILE I AM NOT ALLOWING YOU TO BE INDOORS BECAUSE OF SOME SYMPAHTIC REASONS. I AM ONLY ALLOWING YOU TO BE INDOORS BECAUSE, AS A PROPER PET OWNER, IT WOULD BE A BLACK MARK ON MY RECORD TO HAVE YOU DIE DUE TO SOMETHING SO STUPID AS BEING COLD. THAT'S ALL." "Awe...You do care." "ONE OF THESE DAYS, I WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP." "Papyrus, you don't have to add icing to this cake. It's already sweet enough." "...ARE YOU SURE WE CAN'T HANDLE THE QUEEN IF WE KILL HER?" "bro, even asgore had trouble dealing with tori and that's his wife." Papyrus growls in reluctant agreement. The night continues on with us watching Mettaton on TV. Thankfully, it's one of his movies and nothing weird. Though it's not like his movies aren't odd sometimes. Mettaton seems to make a lot of action, thriller, horror, and psychological type films. Not bad stuff really. Though the CGI human that normally is a villain character is cliché and lackluster in character personality, merely filling the bad role. He needs help writing his scripts. Eventually Papyrus heads off to bed, Flowey nods off, and Sans lazily comes out of the kitchen sipping on mustard. "You headed for bed too, bone-boy?" "yeah. *yawn* don't stay up too late." "I know. I got work too now." "oh...i meant because pap will bitch about the light and noise. but that too." I watch him shuffle towards the stairs. "Sans..." "huh?" I feel unsure if I should mention Mettaton to him or not. Sans is someone I trust. But even he has trouble trusting me back. "Sleep well." I'm such a coward. "you too, kiddo." I mentally punch myself for that. He heads to his room and I shut the TV off once he's gone. With not much else to do, since all my doable chores are already complete and the other are not good to do while they sleep, I give in to the night. I lay down on the couch for some shuteye. Maybe things will be okay in the morning. Hopefully I'm wrong about Mettaton doing something to force me to Hotland. I doubt it though, as when my gut feels this twisted I tend to be right. Maybe these thoughts won't mess with my dreams. If I'm allowed to dream that is. Gaster should need time to go over what he learned last night. A shiver racks my spine at the memory. And then another because I still don't have a blanket. Nice one.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #flowey #Asriel #toriel #asgore #chara #frisk #mettaton #napstablook #alphys #undyne

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foxofthedesert · 5 years

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Arrow FF | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

Part 3 – The Dance (Click for AO3 Link)

As Dinah trails Laurel down the familiar amber-lit hallway, she has to remind herself that this is not her first trip to this particular Oak Forest complex. Seeing as Laurel lives smack dab between Felicity and Dinah, the convenience of her apartment made sense to conduct meetings of the anti-Diaz club Felicity formed while Oliver was locked up and which thereafter morphed into what Felicity calls ‘an unconventionally awesome three way Womance.’ Dinah also drops in to check on Laurel after particularly rough days, a gesture that while not received with praise is at least silently appreciated judging by Laurel’s tacit acceptance of her continued unannounced visits. There is a modicum of resentment from Laurel that occasionally boils over due to feeling unfairly criticized or annoyingly henpecked due to the wanton villainy that characterized her recent, although Dinah has learned how to assuage those flare ups with honeyed reassurances that she is only concerned because she cares. Usually that works well enough, and it when it doesn’t they just bicker it out until one of them invariably apologizes. Lastly, during their collaboration on the Ace Chemical case, work twice spilled over into Laurel’s home and saw them laboring into the wee hours of the morning double and triple checking critical details tucked away inside the mountain of associated files.

All of this means that Dinah a stranger to this sharp, stylish corridor, nor is she unfamiliar with the cozy confines of the abode lurking behind the door just ahead. And yet the tingling in her extremities and the butterflies fluttering around in her tummy would suggest otherwise. In the wake of their bonding experience at the shelter, the sensations being produced by Laurel’s proximity and their pending nightcap are not unlike those she experienced the night before her junior prom. Only then her date was a six foot two, one hundred ninety-five pound star athlete with whom she was utterly smitten; whereas now...well, at least the last part is accurate if her slightly humiliating reaction is any reliable barometer.

Get ahold of yourself for God’s sake, she tells herself as they approach Laurel’s front door, which displays a lovely ornamented wreath. You’re not sixteen anymore and this isn’t a date. Then she recalls Laurel’s anxious shifting as the invitation was posed, and how clearly it was meant as much more than a friendly gesture of thanks for her help at the shelter. Or is it? Hmm. Laurel certainly was acting like maybe it is, which is probably why I’m as big a bundle of nerves as she seems to be. Holding her hand when we left the shelter didn’t help matters, either. As Dinah remembers how right it felt when their palms meshed and their fingers wove together, she watches Laurel fumble for the key to her apartment with shaky hands, swear under her breath, then glance back sheepishly before returning to her task. The unmistakable hint of an incredibly fragile hope that flared through Laurel’s green eyes hits Dinah square in the chest. Jesus. Is this really happening?

Dinah gets her answer when Laurel finally slides the correct key home and pushes the door open, then hesitates in the doorway before offering a shy invitation that sounds nothing like the arrogant, flamboyant, dangerous vixen she first encountered on Lian Yu. Unfortunately Laurel recovers her confidence too quickly for Dinah to comment upon that brief display of vulnerability then flicks on the light and enters to reveal a sight no one who knows this Laurel Lance could have ever adequately prepared for.

Inside the apartment is a scene that would not be horribly out of place in one of the Hallmark Christmas movies Dinah enjoys indulging in during the Holidays. Festive trinkets adorn virtually every piece of furniture from little knickknacks like porcelain elves upon the bookshelf to dual poinsettias with ribbons attached to the wrapping on the vase on the entertainment stand next to the door all the way up to an exquisite nativity scene upon the coffee table that appears as old as it is gorgeous. Meanwhile a modest Christmas tree is tucked into the corner of the living room, neatly and conservatively trimmed featuring plain white lights and mostly silver ornamentation.

“I like what you’ve done to the place,” she says as she mimics Laurel in shrugging off her coat then depositing it, as well as her other unnecessary garments, upon the coat rack to the left of the door.

Laurel smiles over her shoulder, an attractive blush coloring her cheeks. “Thanks. I might have gone a bit overboard. This is the first year I’ve decorated since...” she trails off then, brows drawing in, an oppressive sadness dimming the light in her eyes as she is transported somewhere in her mind, to another time and place Dinah is not yet privy to. But as abruptly as the gloom descends, Laurel brushes it away with a shake of her shoulders and reattaches a wry smile to her face. “Well, let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

Wanting to ask about what went through Laurel’s head just a second ago and whether or not it has to do with Quentin, Dinah opts instead for a safer track. Some day she will get Laurel to open up to her about all she’s been hiding for so long under those impressive facades meant to distract from a secret anguish no one else seems interested in. Except for Dinah, that is, and not just due to the cop instincts that make her want to dissect criminals and villains to determine what makes them tick. She wants to know because it has been evident to her since she bothered to look past the jagged sarcasm, edgy goth wardrobe, and penchant for violence, she realized there was something significant there screaming to the heavens to be uncovered. Once she knew what she was looking for, it didn’t take a genius to figure out there is so much hurt being bottled up inside Laurel that needs to be vented if she’s to maintain this positive course correction she’s made. The problem is Laurel’s problematic lack of a support system makes any definitive progress unlikely in the near term. Who in her life would she deem trustworthy enough to permit voyage beyond the as of yet impenetrable facade? The answer is self-evident to Dinah. No one. Or not yet anyway. Dinah is trying her damnedest to be that someone since no one else seems interested.

With every one else important to Laurel life occupied with their own problems, such as Felicity and Oliver with their family and Team Arrow and all the peripheral shit that comes along with being the central figures of a Superhero outfit that spans multiple cities and Earth, or simply unconcerned about her welfare because they can’t let go of the past – ahem Rene and John – the burden of caring about and for Laurel Lance has fallen to Dinah alone. And that’s okay. She’s happy to shoulder it. Dinah has always been a caregiver. It’s one of many factors that drove her to focus her military training into a meaningful civilian service. That and Laurel, at least to her, is worth it. If no one else can see that? Their loss. She’ll take this exceptional, infinitely interesting woman over the banal choices for company daily served up to her on a silver platter.

“What got you in the holiday spirit if you don’t mind me prying?” she asks, following Laurel into the living room where her svelte hostess gestures for her to sit.

“Hold that thought and go ahead and make yourself at home while I go get the snacks,” Laurel says in lieu of answering immediately, then glides off toward the kitchen with her typical grace.

Dinah obeys like a good guest, and to keep from fidgeting occupies her hands by trailing her fingers over the smooth lacquered finish of the figurines composing the nativity scene neatly arranged upon the coffee table. The craftsmanship really is amazing, the precision unlike anything she has come across from her limited exposure to Christmas decorations. As a kid her parents opted to celebrate the holidays in a non-religious manner seeing as both were lapsed in the faith they were born into, her father the son of Southern Baptist preacher and her mother’s family ensconced firmly within Reform Judaism. But she had friends who made big to-dos about Christmas and often visited their houses to get a glimpse into a portion of modern life she was denied. She used to marvel at the ornamentation on display and wish she was brave enough to ask her parents to make some allowances. None of her friends had anything like this, though.

The manger is so intricate that she can feel imperfections in it as if it were real wood, the hay hundreds of individually constructed strings upon which a marvelously detailed baby Jesus lay, with ten tiny olive-tinted fingers clutching at the threadbare shawl wrapped round him. Mary and Joseph are almost as meticulous, in their period clothing with accurate complexions and features, as are the equally diverse wise men and the astonishingly life-like miniature lambs tucked in round the manger.

“My great-great-great-something grandfather made that in the 1850’s, I think,” Laurel says, having snuck back in while Dinah was entranced studying the figurines. A bit startled, she looks up to see Laurel rounding the couch with a tray in hand and tracks her progress as she continues on to deposit the tray carefully upon an unoccupied portion of the coffee table. “It’s also the answer to your earlier question. I mean, volunteering at the shelter this year got me thinking about when I was a kid and my parents would go crazy around Christmas. Nostalgia hit me hard, so I started browsing through some of the boxes of Christmas stuff Quentin never got around to unpacking and found this nativity scene carefully tucked away in bundles of padding. It’s exactly the same as the one my Quentin inherited, one of a handful of items that survived the family move from Germany after the war. Incidentally, apparently family origin is one thing that doesn’t really change between Earths where we have doppelgangers.” She pauses for a breath. “Anyway, I wanted to put it out to remember both Quentins by but it seemed silly to have just that, so I put up a few more. Which turned into a few more. Eventually...I looked around and this had happened. Oopsie.” To prove her point, she gestures around the apartment, its festive décor providing a merry backdrop to what Dinah hopes will be just as merry a night.

“Well, it’s absolutely gorgeous so I don’t blame you one bit for wanting to show it off. Or for going overboard on the rest,” Dinah says, savoring the information she has just gleaned. Not only does she now know that they share in a heritage that traces back to Germany before the Second World War and that family histories remain largely intact between multiple Earths when a person exists in each of them, but the most intriguing tidbit is that Laurel had a happy childhood at one point. So what went so terribly wrong to make her into Black Siren? Curiosity surges through her mind that she quickly tempers with a dose of reality by reminding herself why she’s here. “The whole apartment is really nice. I’m very impressed,” she adds, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “Now that I know you have a knack for interior decorating, I’ll be blackmailing you into sprucing my place up for Hanukkah next year.”

Just because her late parents chose the path of unbelief does not mean Dinah has. There was a time she abandoned her faith, but since moving to Star City she has slowly been building up to the loosely-observant Reformist she is today. That means among other things that she attends synagogue whenever she can, which isn’t as often as she’d like due to her job, and eats as kosher as convenience and finance will allow. She has never been big on tradition, so she prefers to practice her faith in a casual way that appeals to her modern, practical, and privacy-oriented sensibilities. That said, her belief is as strong as it has ever been, strangely enough thanks to the woman from whom she just washed dishes and mopped floors until her fingers pruned up and her back ached like a bitch. If there was ever a sign from God that love and forgiveness possess a singular power to heal the heart, it has come in the form of her constantly evolving relationship with Laurel.

Ignorant of Dinah’s thoughts, Laurel chuckles at the jest she just made, which causes those amazing dimples of hers to peak out. “Can’t wait to see what material you break out to get me to do your bidding. I’m not easily blackmailed, you know.”

“I know. I happen to like a good challenge, which you most certainly are,” Dinah says with a wink that causes Laurel to blush for what seems like the hundredth time tonight.

“I’ve been called many things, but none with ‘good’ attached as a modifier. Eggnog?” Laurel returns as she gently picks up a mug of eggnog and offers it to Dinah, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

Powerless to resist the creamy goodness cradled in her hands, Dinah takes an experimental sip and cannot stop a moan of pure delight from purring through her chest. “Well, get used to it if this stuff is any indication of your talents.” She then breaks off the arm of one of the gingerbread men, snaps the hand off, then samples the dismembered appendage. Eyes sliding shut in rapture, a similar sound erupts from the depths of her chest. The cookie is more like something out of a professional bakery than an amateur oven. It is soft, perfectly chewy with a cinnamony and gingery flavor that coats her tongue with wonderfulness. “Christ alive, Laurel! This is divine.”

Not half as divine as those noises you just made, Laurel thinks, then chastises herself for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. She has always been hyper-aware of Dinah’s casual sensuality and absurd level of hotness, but lately her inability to curb that awareness has proven quite the irritant.

“Where’d you learn to make this?”

Dinah’s question causes Laurel to reemerge abruptly from the haze induced by that sinful moan. “I found it in my dad’s recipe book,” she answers, hastily to avoid any intensive scrutiny of her embarrassing biological response. “I mean, Quentin’s. Not that my Quentin wasn’t…that he didn’t...err, that he wasn’t...” A soft hand touches her to mercifully prevent any further verbal flailing.

Dinah’s gentle smile eases the mortification, but only just. “It’s okay. I know how much he meant to you. It’s not wrong of you to see him as your dad. He was. If any man ever loved his daughter, that’s the way Quentin loved you.”

Tears prick at Laurel’s eyes unbidden and she clamps down on her lower lip to keep from whimpering like some pathetic little girl. That age old cliché that time heals all wounds is nothing but a bunch of bullshit to Laurel when it’s yet to get any easier for her to hear how deeply this Earth’s Quentin Lance cared for her. The gaping, oozing sore his entirely preventable death left behind is a constant reminder of her unforgivable failures as a daughter upon two worlds. When her mother died in an auto accident and took her Sara to the grave with her, Laurel selfishly and foolishly blamed it all upon her father, who was behind the wheel, even though it was not his fault. A truck driver strung out on amphetamines to stay awake ran a light and plowed right into the passenger’s side. There was nothing anybody could have done, but that didn’t stop Laurel from berating her father at every turn until their relationship was in tatters and he could barely stand to look at her for fear of what she might say. When he was gunned down two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, six months after her Ollie died in the Gambit, she blamed him for that, too. Or at least she did until realization set in that all of the tragedies were ultimately her fault. Her parents had been on their way to pick up her from a silly after school program for advanced readers when that accident occurred, Ollie went on that trip with his dad because she was putting too much pressure on him to move away with her for college, and her father was killed interrupting a robbery while out buying ice cream for her because she emerged from the dreary foxhole of depression to actually interact with him for the first time in weeks.

Guilt over her role in those events ate her alive over the subsequent years. Haunted in nightmares, she was stalked from the shadows of her mind every waking hour of the day until she was reduced to little more than a deviant drug addict living on the streets, willing to do anything for a fix so the voice inside her head that sounded suspiciously like her dad would stop blaming her for their family’s demise. Becoming Black Siren cauterized that wound fairly well up til being Black Siren cost her the exceedingly precious second chance at deserving her father’s unconditional love. That day in the hospital, hearing Sara’s plaintive cries, feeling the blood rushing in her ears, unable to curtail the tears rolling down her face, tore it right back open again, as it has remained ever since. And the only person who has seemed to notice her silent suffering is Dinah Drake.

Miracle of all miracles….

As if sensing Laurel’s internal distress over her terrible comportment and her reticence to continue down this line of discussion, Dinah again proves her aptitude with regard to Laurel’s emotional and mental state. A pat of Laurel’s hand precedes returning her own to her mug, and she then adopts a more neutral posture and tone as she indulges in another healthy sip of the eggnog. After a satisfied little sigh, she asks, “So, what brought you to the shelter?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Laurel says, tone a bit clipped.

One day she will tell Dinah about the months she spent living at place just like the Carmine Kanigher Emergency Shelter. If her wildest dreams come true, she’ll finally be safe enough in a relationship with a woman who can handle the harrowing tale of a broken nineteen year old sexual abuse victim and heroin junkie who escaped her personal hell when S.T.A.R. Labs explosion bathed her battered body in Dark Matter in the midst of an agonized banshee wail. Beaten half to death, face a bloody mess, violated beyond reckoning, angry cigar-shaped burns seared into the small of her back and the back of her neck, in tattered clothes that hadn’t been washed in a month, she stumbled eight blocks in the dead of night until she spotted the little facility tucked in between a decrepit old apartment building and an anachronistic Catholic church that looked more like it belonged in Gotham than Central City.

As she stumbled across the empty intersection, her heart started beating uncontrollably. Two steps out a cold sensation corkscrewed up her spine and she stopped right in the middle of the street, paralyzed. Out of the blue she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, could smell the stink of vodka on his breath, and feel a grimy hand clamping down on her hips whilst the other snatched great handfuls of her hair with all the tenderness of a rabid grizzly. Panic descended upon her like a runaway train. Unable to think, reduced to pure adrenaline and fear, she used every last ounce of willpower to force her feet to move and raced as fast as her unsteady legs would take her toward sanctuary, heedless of the cars barreling down upon her from both lanes, horns screaming at the crazy unkempt lady on a suicide mission to figure out the chicken’s motives for journeying to the other side of the road. Only instead of a triumphant arrival, her toe got hooked on the sidewalk, causing her to face plant within a stone’s throw from what would soon become her only safe haven in life, fracturing her cheek and reopening the jagged cut on her lip.

Laurel can remember so vividly how she literally crawled those last five yards to the front door on her hands and knees, panting for breath and keening in manic desperation, can remember how her bare knees were shredded on the unforgiving concrete leaving behind erratic streaks of blood that took the staff four hours to scrub out the next day. How she got up the stairs and through the front door is not so clear, but she does recall smelling fresh popcorn the second she staggered inside, a scent to this day she associates with safety. She also remembers being greeted by the unbearably kind face of a woman not much older than she is right now, and how that same woman nursed her through the night so patiently and with such gentle care that she wept in her arms until she passed out.

That is why she was at the shelter tonight. To at long last pay it forward in honor of Emma Morrison and all of the other men and women who filtered through her shattered life during her brief stay at Central Covenant Emergency Shelter. After all they did to piece her back together into some semblance of a human being, a herculean feat Laurel still doesn’t understand how they accomplished, the least she can do is help out around the holidays at a place that is doing the same thing for people just like she used to be. People who have been chewed up and spat out by the world, whose loved ones have left them by choice or via the grave, who have nothing and no one to care for them during the one season per year everyone should have someone. Even a wretch like her.

One day she will tell Dinah all of this, because there hasn’t been any one else in her life since Emma that made her want to talk about her past, to air out her anguish, to vent her immeasurable pain. Dinah makes her want to, though, and not just because Dinah has proven herself trustworthy but because Dinah had the audacity to get to know Laurel for no other reason than for Laurel’s sake. Against all objective logic, Dinah chose Laurel, and continues to over and over again. Nobody else has done that since her Ollie and her Daddy died. So there will come a day she will sit Dinah down and divulge the ugly truth behind her radically abrupt spurt of holiday volunteerism. But not today. Especially not on Christmas. Talking about those dark days would sully something precious that has been building between them tonight. Something Laurel can already feel slipping away from her, which causes her to react with her typical knee-jerk abrasiveness.

Lids narrowing in accusation, she pins Dinah down with a cold stare. “You were the one who followed me there. Worried I was about to dive head first into the evil end of the pool again?” Still on the defensive, she squeezes the mug between her hands more tightly to rein in her flaring temper. She hadn’t meant to jump down Dinah’s throat, it’s just lashing out is her default response to emotional upset. Once she told Felicity empathy was a work in progress – well, it is one of many works in progress in her life, coping mechanisms included.

To her credit, Dinah does not take the bait other than to calmly reply, “Of course not.” A pointed look from Laurel, replete with an arched brow, inspires Dinah to amend herself with a shy shrug and cute shrug of her shoulders. “Okay. Maybe a little. Mostly I was curious. You pawned a very important case off on an A.D.A. at the last minute, so I thought I’d find out why.”

Laurel does not understand the reasoning. At all. “You have history with Martinez. I thought you’d be fine working with him while I took some evenings for myself during the holidays.”

For the first time all night, Dinah becomes visibly upset. Her nostrils flare, the muscles in her arms and shoulders tense, and her eyes narrow sharply. “Well, you figured wrong. We worked that case together for over two months, Laurel. You should have seen it through instead bailing on me!”

Taken aback, Laurel returns her mug to the tray. Of all the things for Dinah to get her panties in a wad about, it’s this? As far as Laurel knows, Dinah and Martinez get along swimmingly. They have worked several cases together since Laurel assumed her doppelganger’s duties as District Attorney and have only returned glowing praises about the other in both verbal and hard copy reports. Hell, they’ve even gone out for casual drinks a time or two and had a swell time, which irritated Laurel more than it should have considering she only recently retrieved her attraction to Dinah from the realm of impossible dreams.

Strangely enough, it was working on this case so closely that made her reconsider whether her assessment of Dinah’s sexuality was as reliable as she initially assumed. Maybe that’s why she’s so perturbed. Maybe she thought the same about me? I mean, I wasn’t exactly waving my bi flag for all to see. What if working this case together has opened her eyes the same way it has mine? What if…

Going any further down that road without context is so dangerous Laurel veers a sharp turn on the nearest on-ramp leading to attaining what she needs with a sudden desperation that is as terrifying as it is exciting.

“Okay...what’s this really about?” she poses, daring Dinah to try and finagle herself out of giving an honest answer.

“I just told you...” Laurel waves off Dinah’s sad attempt at deflection as if batting away a pesky fly. “Yeah, yeah. You told me why you were curious as to my so-called pawning off of the Ace Chemical case. I couldn’t help but notice, though, that you’re truly upset about it. And not for the specified reason. This has nothing to do with your investment in this case. Or mine for that matter.”

“Is that so?”

Dinah’s brows shoot up so sharply it feels as if they’re about to clash with her hairline. How did this conversation turn on her so quickly? She’d meant to get Laurel to confess that she dropped the case because her work at the shelter during the holidays had become too important for her to abandon, that she has finally found a purpose for that heart she’s kept so safely guarded with a charming misanthropy she wields like a sword and shield to repel any who seek entry. Only halfway through the sentence it turned into accusation as the abandonment Dinah felt – and yes, she knows that’s irrational; but Laurel makes her irrational, okay! – superseded that initial noble goal. Deep down, she knows Laurel stepping away from the case only hurt her because it meant they wouldn’t be spending any more late nights in each other’s offices or in Laurel’s apartment working into the wee hours of the morning. There would be no more sipping on coffee and chatting about sports during short breaks, no more furtive glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking, no more of their shoulders and hips brushing together as they huddled over a report they’ve both read a dozen times looking for potential weaknesses or loopholes in the prosecution the defense might exploit, and no more excuses to touch Laurel because she’s right there and available and one hundred percent engaged in their hypnotizing dynamic.

Dinah was aggrieved because she wants more of all that, craves it like a drug, yearns for it like a forlorn lover whose partner has been out of reach for far too long. She is afraid that without a legitimate professional excuse to continue this closeness they’ve developed it will wither on the vine and die before ever bearing fruit. And that hurts her, makes her chest and throat physically constrict and her heart ache painfully to the point she feels tears of sheer despair well up from within her very soul. If she cared to examine that phenomenon with any degree of conviction, she knows she would invariably uncover the root cause to be a four letter word that she simply cannot be the one to say first. There is far too much on the line for that, and not just for her but for Laurel, who has probably been hurt more than Dinah has.

And of course Laurel took the opportunity to, in a matter of heartbeats, dissect Dinah’s outburst and arrive at the same conclusion she has. Sometimes the woman’s perceptiveness is downright infuriating.

“From my point of view it is,” Laurel replies with complete confidence. All of the sudden, those spectacular green eyes lose all hints of vulnerability and instead resemble those of a hawk who has zeroed in on her prey. That prey being Dinah. Which sends a jolt of excitement through Dinah’s veins.

Refusing to back down an inch, Dinah harrumphs. “Well, then, since you’re such an expert in the subject of my motives, why don’t you enlighten me as to what they were?”

Laurel shoots her a warning glance that is not so much threatening as out of concern. Dinah doesn’t quite know what to make of it until Laurel responds, then she understands that the concern is for them both.

“You sure you wanna go down this path? ‘Cause there’s no going back once we do.”

Dinah has never been more sure of anything. Four hours ago she would have taken the out being dangled so tempting in front of her. But four hours ago she hadn’t seen Laurel disarmed of the sword that is her double-edged tongue and disrobed of the impenetrable armor that protects a soft underbelly Dinah would wager has been exposed for none asides from Quentin in a very long time. Four hours ago she hadn’t seen Laurel glowing under the adulation of people who clearly care for her as much as she does them. Four hours ago she hadn’t witnessed Laurel giving heartfelt hugs to homeless folks who weren’t the cleanest or the best smelling and engaging them with a mega-watt dimpled smile that actually reached her eyes as she wished them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and meant every last word. Four hours ago she hadn’t held Laurel’s hand and realized it felt more right in hers than anyone’s ever has – and that includes Vince. Four hours ago she was not ready to trust Laurel with her heart, because believe it or not she is not as strong as everyone makes her out to be.

But that was four hours ago. Now, things are different. Much different. In such an astonishingly brief window of observation she has seen Laurel express attributes she knew were there along just waiting for the right moment to be unfurled and has at the same time been given a glimpse at a potential future that is so beautiful it takes her breath away. All she needs is for Laurel to make the first move. And if that happens, Dinah is ready and willing to meet her halfway.

Until then, however, she has to maintain the pretense of ignorance, and not just for her sake. Like a skittish dog who has been ritually abused only to be rescued by some compassionate soul, Laurel will need to feel like she is in control of the progression of their relationship or she might panic and bolt. Some might see that as an obstacle they could not overcome, but Dinah is not one of those types. Pride within intimacy has never been her problem. Adaptability is her strength. Take charge or be submissive, so long as she is being shown proper love and respect she can cut either direction depending on the mood. With Vince she liked being a little domineering because he could take it. He had this sixth sense for when she wanted to wear the pants and when she needed him to take the reins. It seems that with Laurel, the sixth sense belongs to her. Maybe time will bear out a different result, and if so she is eager to experience the journey, but if not she is just as happy to be for Laurel what Vince was for her. Hell, it might even be the change of pace she didn’t even know she needed.

For now, though, she can just tell that she’s going to have to give a little bit more than she’s used to, bend a little more readily so that this new, fragile, incredibly thrilling development between them doesn’t break right out of the box.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrows her eyes dubiously. “Pssh. You act as if your theory is going to blow my damn mind or something.”

“Maybe it is,” Laurel says matter-of-factly, then softens almost imperceptibly. “Maybe it’s already blown mine and I’m just trying to make sure you’re ready for the fallout.”

Internally, Dinah is squealing like a school girl whose crush is just about to make her dreams come true. She has honestly not felt this way in so long she can’t remember the last time. Externally she utilizes her many years of training, both from the military and the police academy, to maintain a neutral expression.

“Don’t go pulling punches on my account. Not now. One of the reasons I like spending time with you is because you give it to me straight. So if you have something to say, say it.”

Laurel nods, then does not hesitate to accommodate Dinah’s command. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Here she pauses briefly, inhales deeply, lets it out slowly, then squares her shoulders before launching into her speech. “So...I think that me handing the case off to Martinez means our collaboration ended earlier than scheduled. I think that hurt you, and way more than you could have predicted. I will concede that you might not understand why that is, exactly. Or if you do, you’re too scared to admit it.”

Getting hot. Keep going. Figuring Laurel might need a bit of encouragement to see this through all the way, Dinah decides to inject a bit of a challenge. Laurel always responds well to those…

“I’m not afraid of anything. Especially a loud-mouthed bean pole like you.”

Laurel’s grin tells Dinah her tactic worked like a fucking charm. She gets herself a well-deserved mental pat on the back as Laurel scoots closer rather than reeling away as most would.

“Getting defensive. I hit a nerve, I see. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me with that cute little barb. In fact, you just proved my point.”

“Which is?” C’mon. You’ve come this far. Just a little further...

“That you like me.”

Score! 1-0 in favor of Drake. I’m liking the direction this is going more and more by the second.

To really sell her being utterly dense of what is going on here and that Laurel is the one in charge, Dinah furrows her brow in confusion. “Come again…?”

A daring hand hovers over Dinah’s arm, then a long finger begins trailing down the underside of her forearm, which is still bared due to her having neglected to roll her sleeves back down. The touch of tapered nail scores a line of fire into her flesh, leaving behind a trail of heat so intense Dinah would not be shocked to discover on the morning that the line has not faded. The thought draws her eyes down to the tattoo of a flock of birds on the outside of Laurel’s right index finger. The sight elicits an electric buzz low in Dinah’s belly.

Unbidden, she imagines lying on her side upon a reclined chair, Laurel sitting next to her and holding her hand as a carefully selected artist etches the finishing touches into a custom design upon the skin high up on her left rib cage – the side closest to her heart - that appears to be a laurel wreath bisected by a knight’s lance. The image does things to Dinah that cannot account for. Never before has she been stricken with the impulse to get such an intimately personal tattoo to join her Marine Corps insignia, as if she subconsciously is already harboring a desire to be branded as Laurel’s woman.

Shit! Dinah shudders as the image dissolves, leaving her excited and frightened and a little turned on all at once. Thankfully, her return to the present is timely, as she glances up just in time to receive Laurel’s languid response.

“You heard me. You like me. And not just because I keep it so real for you.” Lifting her finger from Dinah’s arm, Laurel slides her hand down until her palm slides into place against Dinah’s. Just like at the shelter, their fingers thread together as if designed to be mated. The expression on Laurel’s face then turns decidedly emotional. “You care about me. For me. Not just because I look like someone you used to love or am a useful ally because of my job, my kickass ninja skills, or my meta powers. In spite of all the hurt between us, you see something in me worthwhile.” She ducks her head, looks up at Dinah through her long lashes. “I can tell because it’s the same way that I care for you.”

Dinah exhales sharply as if punched, just without all the consequential pain. This is it. It’s really happening. All of the tension that has built up since their eyes met across the crowded cafeteria at the shelter has come to a percussive crescendo. On Christmas Eve of all days. Is this my present? Is this what I’ve waited all year for? All my fucking life for? And not even known it ‘til now? Hell yes it is! How she knows, she can’t say, nor would she at the risk of killing the magic. Some things are better left assigned to the mysterious and fickle hands of fate. And since said hands seem to be favoring her tonight, Dinah is more than happy to surrender this one without a fight.

“Laurel...are you saying what I think you are?” she asks after tipping up Laurel’s chin.

Knowing instinctively that this is the moment, the one that will define the rest of her life, Laurel braces herself and summons up every last ounce of her courage. For too long she has pined secretly over Dinah, often times secretly even to herself. There was ample reason, to be sure, but all of those seem to have been rendered moot by whatever Christmas magic is operating to give her the one thing she has wanted more than all else since an audacious, slightly self-righteous, lionhearted woman kept her from murdering a federal judge after she bared her heart on behalf of someone she will always love and was cruelly shot down.

That day Dinah saved more than the life of one heartless judge, she saved Laurel’s too. That was the singular event, the axial minute, the pivotal hour that made her believe she could actually make a go of this good guy shit the other Laurel draped around neck like a cloak of calling. Quentin had started her down this path and his death had kept her upon it by a thread most days. But if Dinah hadn’t gone out of her way when she didn’t have to and all but told Laurel she believed it was possible for her to be redeemed, none of this would be possible. Before then, a backslide was inevitable.

And so Laurel mentally buckles up and floors the gas pedal, if for no other reason than she owes Dinah the truth. Come what may.

“If you think I’m saying every time I’m close to you my heart starts racing like it’s going to jump out of my chest, then yes,” she says, investing her heart into her words as possible never before. She squeezes Dinah’s hand a bit harder, willing her to hear and understand that none of what she is hearing is bullshit, that every last syllable is being wrenched from the bottom of what’s left of her heart. “If you think I’m saying I think about you constantly, then yes. If you think I’m saying I’ve never met anyone like you who makes me feel all the crazy, amazing, scary things you make me feel, then yes. If you think I’m saying I daydream about what it would feel like to hold you, kiss you, and wake up with you in my arms, then hell yes to that, too. Truth is, I’ve felt this way for a while now. I think it started that day outside the Courthouse when you stopped me from doing something incredibly stupid. The way you looked at me…I couldn’t remember the last time anybody looked at me that way, and all I knew was I wanted more. These past few months, I’ve done everything I can to insinuate myself into your life because for whatever twisted reason, I’m drawn to you, and I just can’t seem to help myself.”

For an unbearable few seconds, Dinah says nothing, just sits there staring at Laurel while clenching her hand so hard that Laurel starts to lose feeling in her fingers. Dread rears its ugly head shortly thereafter.

Oh, God. Have I blown it? Have I scared her away? Did I read this all wrong? I’m gonna lose her. Fuck! No, no, no...

“Wow. I, uh...wow.”

When Dinah manages that breathless response, it doesn’t inspire much confidence in Laurel that the panic clawing at her chest and clogging her throat are an overreaction. At this point, addled as her brain is, all she can think of is that she needs to backtrack as quickly as possible and salvage their friendship.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“No!” Dinah’s interruption is a mini explosion that startles Laurel so badly she jumps. “Just...stop right there. That was a lot to take in at once, but not in a bad way.”

The sensation of relief that washes over Laurel is nothing short of blissful. All of that anxiety might have been for nothing after all. If so, that means Dinah does feel the same as her. And if that is true, it means they might actually make a go of this. There is so much on the line here, so much to lose, that the thought is almost terrifying. Almost. An overpowering urge to kiss those hypnotically plump lips of Dinah’s is overriding all other considerations.

With her heart in her throat all of a sudden, Laurel runs her thumb along the back of Dinah’s hand and is pleased to see Dinah shiver in response. “Really?”

“Really.” Dinah smiles crookedly. “Turns out you’re a pretty smart cookie, Lance. Your theory may be more of a fact. Working with you on this case has been amazing. You’ve been amazing. And I know I shouldn’t, but I want to be close to you, Laurel. Closer, even. So much closer.”

That last bit is hardly more than a whisper, which Laurel hears clearly due to their heady proximity. A frisson of pure joy runs down her body because that is the exact same thing she wants. And not just metaphorically. Right now she wants to be closer physically, too, which has some of her old spunk reappearing.

“How much closer, Dinah?” she asks, eyes hooded, nostrils flaring to indulge in the scent of coconut and jasmine that is uniquely Dinah. She inches forward, drawing their heads and upper torsos ever closer. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure there’s some mistletoe in the vicinity I could scrounge up if I need to. You know, if you need an excuse to ask for a kiss.”

Dinah taps her index finger against her chin a couple times, feigning pretending to weight the need for such measures. “Hmmm.” Then she shakes her head gently as her lips slide into an impish smile. “Nah. Direct is more my style.”

“A woman after my own heart. Which, incidentally, is one of the many reasons I love you.” Laurel gasps aloud the instant that very heavy phrase slides off her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say it. “I...I‘m so sorry. That just slipped out.”

But Dinah does not appear shocked or appalled or angry or anything negative really. Instead, she is still smiling as she leans in, her head tilting a fraction as their noses nearly come into contact. They are so close now Laurel can smell Dinah’s breath, sweet with hints of gingerbread and eggnog, as she speaks. “It’s okay. No need to apologize. I liked it.”

“You did?”

“Mmhmm. Say it again, please.” An emphasis is added when Dinah nuzzles the tips of their noses together.

Laurel has never felt so warm and alive. And there is no way in hell that she would refuse that request, even if she had a gun to her head. She can think no better way to die than professing her love for Dinah Drake.

“Dinah.” She pauses, breathes deep, then opens up her heart and lets all of the repressed affection for this incredible woman spill out in three little enormous words. “I love you.”

Heart in her eyes, Dinah responds with every bit as much emotion. “Laurel. I love you, too.” She then nibbles her lip affectedly, head tilting a bit further. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you may. Any time you wish,” Laurel says, her heart thudding in her chest as though it has been replaced by a Pamplona bull.

Dinah does not waste any time. Holding Laurel’s gaze, she leans in until their lips are ever-so-lightly together, lets Laurel adjust and brushes them together from side-to-side until Laurel loses containment upon a high-pitched mewl that tears free from her throat, making her sound like a kitten being teased too long with the milk it so desperately craves. Lips curling into a smile, Dinah stops the teasing at last and seals their lips together. It’s their very first kiss, and it feel is so indescribable, so incredibly wonderful that Laurel’s brain short circuits. In that moment, she is reduced to pure sensation, from the tingling of her lips as Dinah gently sucks upon them to the fire coursing through her veins, burning away every last vestige of doubt, fear, and anxiety over whether or not they might be ruining something irreplaceably precious and over whether or not she will ever deserve however much love Dinah is willing to expend upon her. None of that matters when with one kiss

When Dinah pulls away a few seconds later, she hums in appreciation of what has just happened. And then her eyes begin dancing merrily. “Just for future reference, was that little Wesleyan promise you made my Christmas present? Infinite kisses?”

Laurel chuckles at the reference she actually understands. They don’t have The Princess Bride on Earth-2, which is a crime in and of itself, but thankfully Dinah was kind enough to introduce her to one of this world’s classic romantic comedies. Which was the reason she used that phrase. How Wesley felt about Buttercup is pretty much exactly how she feels about Dinah. Hopelessly devoted. Willing to do anything and everything for her. Willing to kill for her, and if she must, die for her. That said, now is not the time for such declarations.

“I actually was going to give you a Colt CQBP,” she says, smirking because she knows how much of a gun nut Dinah is. “But now I’m thinking I like your idea better.”

“Ooo! How did you know I wanted one of those? God, that’s so tempting. I think I agree with you, though. The kisses sound like a much better deal.”

Laurel reacts accordingly, hands going to her chest as if flattered. Because she is. Dinah turning down a gun for her kisses is a pretty big statement. Almost as big as Ollie rejecting a new, spiffier bow in favor of his wife’s smooches.

“Oh, my. I’ve got a sweet talker on my hands. Are you gonna make me regret...”

With a growl, Dinah interrupts the spiel Laurel was about to launch into about giving Dinah a brand new avenue of attack with which to get her way.

“Shut up, woman, and give me more of what I really want.”

“My God, you are so demanding.” Laurel caps off the comment with dimpled grin.

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” says Dinah, who then without warning surges forward to claim Laurel’s lips in a searing kiss with none of the tentative nature of the first.

After some indeterminate amount of time exploring one another on the couch with eager lips and combative tongues and adventurous hands, they draw apart reluctantly, their lips breaking contact with a satisfying smack. As she leans away from the sole source of her current inundation with unadulterated bliss, Laurel inadvertently glances up at the clock only to note that it is, in fact, five minutes past twelve. Christmas Eve is officially over, which can only mean one thing.

Reaching out with her left hand, she tenderly cups Dinah’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dinah.”

Burrowing into the embrace, Dinah’s answering smile is one for the ages. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

Which it most certainly is. In fact, it will turn out to be the most Merry Christmas Laurel has ever had. Until next year, that is, when she wakes up with a gloriously naked and happily sated Dinah sleeping soundly sprawled atop her. Or the next year, where she awakens to a very frisky Dinah kissing and licking up the length of her inner thigh and doesn’t stop until arrival at the Promised Land. Or the year after that when they are engaged and spend an unbelievably awesome Christmas with Sara and Ava back in 18th century at the winter home of the legendary Carolus Rex of Sweden. Or the year after that, the best yet, when her present is little stick with two pink lines.

Some might say Merry Christmas as a perfunctory salutation to friends and family, but not Laurel. She means it every time she says it. And how can she not? Dinah makes every Christmas a merry one for her.

#dctv #arrow #arrow fanfic #fanfic #dinah drake #laurel lance #dinah x laurel #laurel x dinah #aka Dinahmite!#or:#dinahsiren #christmas

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