#about him is numerous and every time unprompted

[bonebrokebuddy]

“That’s Superboy Prime, Superboy is actually a separate character -oh, yeah Clark was Superboy when he was young but my favorite Superboy is Kon - No. The gay one is Jon, not Kon that’s a different Superboy- No I am not fucking with you. That’s the gay one, just because he’s wearing a leather jacket doesn’t make Kon the gay one.”

“The strongest character in the Justice League? Oh, easy. It’s Plastic Man- yeah he’s not super popular but just trust me, he could absolutely beat Superman - nonono let me explain, he operates on looney toons logic he absolutely could- yes even Batman- yes even Wonder Woman- yes even-”

“Martian Manhunter doesn’t hunt men. I know it sounds like he does but he doesn’t, trust me.”

“You mean Wally West?- Dude trust me you grew up with Wally West as Flash, not Barry Allen- Yes, there are different Flashes and trust me, Barry was dead for 40 years. You only know about him from the CW show- dude it’s like Percy Jackson Movies level of horrible adaptation, I’m well aware the show is awful.”

Talking about DC to people who only have minimum knowledge is so much fun. Like

"yeah Connor- no, that's Conner with an e, I mean Connor with an o-"

"So the original Teen Titans- no, not Raven, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Starfire- yeah, Speedy, Kid Flash, Aqualad and Wonder Gi- what do you mean you don't know who Wonder Girl is??"

"And then Roy- no, not that Roy- yes technically they're the same guy but they're so far removed they're basically separate characters"

"Green Arrow and Speedy- no, not that Green Arrow, no not that Speedy either- no the first Speedy is older than the second Green Arrow-"

"...yes, there are more heroes in Gotham than just Batman, Robin, and Batgirl."

[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Stormlight Characters in the Middle Seat Next to You on a Budget Airline.

As requested by anon. :)

1. Kaladin

Cons: His legs are so long. His hair is so luxurious. His shoulders are so broad. This large, beautiful man is not trying to be in your space, but the budget airline seat cannot contain him. Pros: You started what you thought was an idle conversation, but by the end of your flight, he had diagnosed your chronic pain and become your therapist??

2. Shallan

Pros: Well, she's more of a regular-sized human and she's friendly but quiet. She seems to just want to sketch the whole flight, so no complaints! Cons: Why does she keep staring directly at a space across the plane and sketching the creepiest symbol-headed creatures you've ever seen with her eyes vaguely glazed over like she doesn't even know she's doing it holy shit is this a Twilight Zone situation where there are invisible gremlin monsters on this plane that only she can see and is it your imagination or do you hear humming from somewhere

3. Adolin

Cons: Listen, this is a budget airline, and this guy seems to think it's a fancy spa?? He's got the slippers, the posh eye mask, the luxurious travel pillow, some really nice face creams, and he seems to be video chatting with a girl even though the internet on the plane doesn't even work. Frankly, you're jealous and grouchy about it. Pros: Okay, he actually seems really sweet and he gave you some of his way-too-nice-for-an-airplane snacks. You take it all back; this guy is awesome.

4. Szeth

Pros: He is so still. So quiet. Almost folded in on himself. Barely...breathing? Honestly, you keep forgetting the middle seat is occupied, and how rare is that! Cons: You just...you think you'd feel better if he just blinked. Just once. Please.

5. Lift

Cons: You had to sigh just a little when a little kid plopped down next to you. Also, she goes to the bathroom every five minutes, and comes back with food every time. You think she might be robbing people. Pros: She complimented your butt quite sincerely. You've always been kinda self-conscious about your butt! But apparently yours is the "second best she's ever seen." Feels nice.

6. Jasnah

Pros: Like, is it possible for someone to just be really good at flying? She came in, expertly stowed her luggage, sat down elegantly, did her seatbelt, used a wipe to clean up the tray table and surrounding area, and immediately starting reading some thick tome. Do you have a crush on her? You might have a crush on her. Cons: She glanced at the book you're reading, and you know she judged you for it.

7. Wit

Cons: Does this guy EVER stop talking? Pros: Okay, actually, you found him kind of annoying at first, but that story he told you about the temple and the duck might have healed years of trauma? Did you just realize that you don't have to forgive your mom and that's okay?

8. Renarin

Pros: He sat down and you were like, "Okay. Cute nerd. I dig it." Cons: You just wish he wouldn't scrawl foreboding-seeming numerals on the back of the airline chair in front of him. Is it counting down to...just before the plane lands? What does it mean???

9. Amarem

Cons: He came in and was IMMEDIATELY like, "I am taller than you and so I should have your seat." And then he just...waited? Like he thought you'd just comply??? Pros: He seems intent on pretending that never happened. Fine by you. That guy seems like an asshole.

10. Zahel

Pros: He falls asleep, like, immediately and doesn't stir for the entire flight. Cons: He's just kinda stinky.

11. Dalinar

Cons: He sits down and, unprompted, says something like, "In my youth I would always battle to occupy every armrest but now, after reading The Way of Planes, I have realized that it is the journey, not the armrests, that matter, so you can have them" and then you're like, "Dude, the person in the middle seat gets the armrests that's just common courtesy" and then he looks at you and you look at him and it's vaguely awkward the whole flight and nobody uses the armrests. Pros: Actually, after a while you do take the armrest and the tension goes down a lot.

12. Taravangian

Pros: He just kinda seems like a nice old man, you know? Kinda confused about stuff, but harmless enough. Cons: He falls asleep partway through and droops his head onto your shoulder and drools a bit and you know you sound ridiculous but it feels somehow calculated. Intentional. Evil.

13. Sebarial

Cons: The very second beverage service starts he's all, "Bring me a BOTTLE of wine" and you're like, "Oh no. It's one of those dudes who gets way too drunk on planes!" Pros: You know? This guy actually seems pretty jolly and chill. You catch yourself thinking, "I wish I could pretend he was my uncle." You're not sure where that came from.

14. Rock

Pros: He scoffs at the provided airline snacks and gets out this thermos and gives you the best damn soup you've ever had in your life. Cons: He's just a large, warm man. Very large. Very warm. Not his fault, of course, but now YOU are very warm.

15. Elhokar

Cons: Every time there is plane turbulence, he mutters something about how it's the assassins coming to finish the job. Poor dude must be really scared of flying. Pros: You feel a warm, parental feeling growing in you as you look at this sad, scared man. Maybe your mom was right. Maybe you WOULD be good with kids.

16. Eshonai

Pros: This lady is, just, SO excited to be traveling that it can't help but make YOU excited to travel. Like, you always thought plane travel sucked, especially budget airline travel, be she is so delighted by everything that you find yourself thinking, "You know, it IS pretty amazing that we're soaring through the sky right now traveling to a new land." Cons: Cons? No cons. You wish you could ALWAYS see flying through this woman's eyes.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule IV

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for the overwhelming support you give to this story!! Ily all 💕

Masterlist, Latibule III

“You’re a veterinarian?” he asked in apparent disgust, his hand covering his mouth. He was looking at you with betrayal in his eyes as though you did the most heinous thing to him.

Seriously, a veterinarian? A veterinarian saved him? All along he thought you were a someone from a medical field. A human medical field.

You rolled your eyes before picking up the dog that had been cowering in fear when he stepped in the clinic uninvited. Really, it was unprompted. You didn’t know how he knew where you worked or why he was here. All you knew was that his presence was not only distracting, but it was also unwarranted. Also, what was it with him that even known predators were shaking with trepidation? Suga was all bark and no bite, you thought to yourself.

And the way he was acting was over-the-top. You bumped his shoulder as you went out of the room. “What are you doing here, my dearest and largest inconvenience in life?”

Suga followed you in your office after you handed the dog to the assistant. He of course had he audacity to plop himself down on your swivel chair as if he belonged there. You really had no energy left to deal with him. You had too much on your plate and you hadn’t really been sleeping well lately.

He looked around your office with a mask of indifference, taking in every nook and cranny. He eyed the framed photographs you had on your table, noting that the couple holding you must have been your parents. You were smiling at the camera, clutching your diploma and a bouquet of roses in your hands as your parents stood proudly beside you with their arms around you. You were smiling so wide at the camera that he subconsciously smiled. You looked good happy.

He wondered what made you so sad now.

His mind was still desperately attempting to figure out the mystery that you were. You were still young. He thought that you should be out there instead of holed up in this quiet town. You should be out there enjoying your nights instead of looking at the same damn sky every night, gazing at the stars as though it would be the last time you looked at them. It had been a while now since he entered into your life bloodied and bruised. Aside from knowing that you were an annoyingly kind person who had no qualms about putting him in his place, he knew nothing about you. You went straight home from work, as far as he knew you didn’t talk to your family, and you loved mornings and looking at the night sky.

You were a glaring conundrum, and he couldn’t separate the detective in him. He wanted to stop at nothing until he discovered every untold verity about you. Additionally, did he really want to know? Would it be the smartest thing to do?

Would he survive knowing everything?

“I was bored,” he answered with an air of nonchalance, “your house does not really provide entertainment, you know?”

You glared at him as you leaned your hands on your table, “Then leave.”

He was shaking his head slowly, “I can’t yet. You’re stuck with me until the foreseeable future.” Suga looked at the numerous frames again taking space on your desk. He couldn’t stop looking at them, his kind itching with the familiarity of who he presumed as your parents. “Seriously, angel, would you forget what they look like if you don’t have five frames on your table?”

A flash of sorrow crossed your eyes for a second before hiding it with annoyance. You marched to him, pulling him up by his thick wrists with all your might, to which he didn’t even move an inch. He was looking at you with raised brow as though in confusion to what you were trying to do. “Get up. If you’re so bored, go and look for a job. For heaven’s sake, it’s like feeding three people at the same time! Fifty percent of my salary goes to your food!”

“I’m a growing man, angel! I need to eat more-“

“You’re old! You stopped growing eons ago!”

He expertly removed your grip on him. He pulled you closer to him, his seated position still towering over you as he brought you closer to his face. His voice was deep…and enticing. “I’ll have you know that I’m only thirty-“

“No way!” you exclaimed exaggeratedly, putting your hands on his chest to stop you from completely crashing to him. “Then why don’t you act like it?”

Suga smirked. See, no one really talked to him this way. It was only ever you. All his men followed his orders. All of them dared not to cross him just because he might have maimed several people who crossed him. Cowards. Additionally, your quick wit and your personality that took no shit from anyone were a breath of fresh air for him. He could almost treat his refuge in this town as a vacation. Well, until he can return to ruling all the worlds.

Ah, you were really beautiful, he thought as he looked closely at you. Had he met you under his normal circumstances, he would have made a move on you already. But alas, this was the craziest of times in his life. He did not need any attachments to this godforsaken town.

He tilted his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Why, angel? How does a man my age act with a woman as beautiful as you?” he asked lowly, his voice deepened more than usual. Your heart skipped a beat at what he was asking, but you were you and he was him. And so you met his eyes, his scarred eye did nothing to lessen his beauty. If anything, his scar proved that he lived. You felt his other hand moved to the small of your back, ensuring that you stayed where he wanted you to.

“W-well. For one, a man your age should have a stable job-“

He nodded, his hand mindlessly rubbing your waist. “Got it. A stable and well-paying job.” If only you knew what he was in his life, he thought. He had a stable job in the police department and a well-paying job as the kingpin.

“-and a man your age should take care of a woman as beautiful as me. How else can you protect a woman without any means to do so? Honey, no woman would stay with you if you are incapable of providing,” you shot back with a smirk on your face thinking that he wasn’t any of the things you said.

Suga could only chuckled at what you were insinuating. He was more than capable, alright. “So, all I need to do is get a job so you won’t leave me?”

You nodded seriously. “I need a man who buys me expensive things.”

He smiled so widely at you that his adorable gums were visible. You were entertaining, he thought. He could buy you all the things you could ever wanted had he been in his normal life. If only you knew.

“Doc, are you going to the carnival later?” the office’s assistant asked as you bade her goodbye for the day. You had been working here since your arrival in this town. You thought you were extremely lucky to find someone hiring in the town as small as this was. It turned out, this was perfect for you.

You offered her a smile even though her eyes strayed to the man behind you. He looked as bored as he felt. He annoyed you into clocking out early because he was hungry. You told him straight off that he didn’t need to wait for you but if stubbornness has a name, it would be Suga.

“Is that your fiancé?” she whispered to you.

“What? No-“

“Angel,” he suddenly called you, his expression that of an innocent man and that was when you knew he was on his bullshit again. “You know it hurts me when you deny us.”

“How could you, doc?” she accused you lightly, shaking her head at you as she fully believed his horrendous act. “It’s okay. The whole town knows, anyway.”

“What?! How?”

“Well, you’re hiding someone as handsome as him. Of course the whole town will talk. It’s not like we get new people in this town, anyway.”

Before you could answer, he was pulling your workbag and you were left with no choice but to follow him. The clinic was a ten-minute walk. In a town as quiet as this was, walking was more welcome than driving. He was walking with one hand in his pocket, the other pulling your bag which made inadvertently made him carry most of the weight and all you needed to do was follow his lead.

“I’m going to the carnival later,” you quipped up, watching his reaction from behind. He didn’t even spare you a glance but you could feel the annoying smirk showing in his face.

“Is this your way of asking me to come?”

“As if,” you scoffed, looking at the other side to hide your expression. Why the fuck did you want him there with you, you thought angrily. You couldn’t deny that you did, though… “B-but, do you want to come?”

“Nope.”

Yep. Your heart sure didn’t drop at that.

You had just changed your clothes when you heard a knock. You opened the door and immediately lighted up when you saw it was your friend and the owner of the clinic. “Hey, you ready to go?”

“Yup, let me just grab my--“ you trailed off when you felt a had pulling you. Your back was plastered on his front as he regarded who technically was your boss. His face was devoid of any emotion as he looked at him with his dark eyes.  

“You are?”

“I’m…Jackson?”

“Is that a question?” he scoffed. “I’m her fiancé,” he stated with enough strength that no one would think that he wasn’t staking claim. He said it with enough force as though to ask the man in front of you who the fuck he was in your life that he had the audacity to take you from him.

Jackson glanced at you with something akin to a teasing glint in his eyes before meeting Suga’s eyes head on. “Cool. Although I heard the news, I didn’t believe that Y/N has a fiancé now.”

“Well, believe it.”

“Okaaay,” you spoke with finality before turning to Suga. “I’ll be going now-“

“I’m coming with you.”

You watched him as he took in the bright lines from the carnival. He genuinely looked like a cat as he turned his head to look at every ride and stall the carnival had. This was his first time going to a place such as this with his father never allowing him to enjoy what normal children enjoyed. He was not allowed to exist for any reason other than to serve his father’s ambition. Simple pleasures such as this was deprived from him. He wondered if this was also the reason why he grew up as depraved as he was, he thought, to never have known and feel comfort and happiness, did those things make him the greedy and twisted man that he was?

He tugged you to the side when he saw what seemed like a toy gun and lines of cans on the wall. He watched as teenagers miserably failed to knock down the required numbers of cans. He shook his head before turning to you with his palm up in expectation.

See this was why most of your budget went to him.

“No.”

He frowned grumpily, “Why not?”

“Because games like that are rigged.”

“But I want to shoot a gun…”

You strayed on the other side when you got bored watching him shoot like a lunatic. You were drawn to the small band playing on the other side of the carnival. You joined the crowd as they swayed to the sweet melodies as they sang a rendition of The One by Kodaline. A smile graced your lips as you watched an elderly couple leaned into each other as they listened to the song. It must have been nice to have someone to grow old with, you thought. It must have been comforting to have someone…but you didn’t and you couldn’t.

Not with your situation.

You were going to grow old alone. You were going to live a life of solitary and never to have anyone to call your own. Your thoughts were louder than the music. Your emotions were higher than the volume of the instrments when you felt a familiar hand pulled you. And it was as though time moved a little bit slower as he turned you around to face his towering form. His skin was glowing underneath the sea of fluorescent lights from the carnival. His long, dark hair was framing his face. He was breathing hard as he stared down at you with his equally dark eyes. Your heart beat faster when you met his eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking for you, angel,” he reprimanded with an air or worry and annoyance in his voice. He frowned, loathing the fact that he looked everywhere for you. And when he couldn’t find you, he didn’t know why it unnerved him, nor why it felt wrong to not know where you were. Or why for the first time in his life, he felt the crippling panic in his heart.

Shadows engulfed his face as he looked down at you, the light behind him made him looked like an ethereal being, one that was too dangerous to touch, yet you were preconditioned to meet him. It was the cruelest of trick that you and him were always meant to cross paths, and neither of you could avoid it.

 “Don’t just leave like that.”

And you knew right then and there, you were fucked.

-Somewhere in Seoul, South Korea-

Park Jimin walked stealthily on the narrow street, his eyes on the bodies scattered on the ground. Finally, he could feel it. This was it. He was going to know who the betrayer was.

He smirked as he stalked to the last breathing man leaning on the wall. Jimin whistled ominously, his hand on his pocket and the other holding his favorite gun nonchalantly. He smiled angelically at the dying man as he squatted down to look at him eye to eye.

“P-pl-please…” he whispered pathetically, “e-end me, s-sir. P-please-“

Jimin smiled at him before lifting the man’s chin with his gun, “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered tauntingly. “I should give you the mercy you don’t deserve, right?”

“P-Pleas-“

“I will. Don’t worry,” he assured him before losing his smile all together. He was not going to leave anyone alive tonight, he thought. That was never part of the plan. “But you need to tell me who your boss is.”

And he did.

“So it’s you, huh?” Jimin whispered to himself as he walked away from the crime, his men rushing in to clean the mess.

Latibule V

[ranting-writer]

On Mothers and Baseball

“Sir, your son was in another fight at school today.”

No guardian wanted to hear that, but Bro especially hated hearing it. Not because he hated Dave fighting, actually, he encouraged Dave to stand up for himself and finish a fight if it was called for. Sometimes, yeah, he encouraged Dave to start a fight, but never unprompted. No, he hated it because he hated having to go into the damn school to argue with yet another teacher about what Dave should or shouldn’t be doing. He hated going in and bitching to teachers that, yes, Dave does in fact have every right to defend himself should he have to.

“Okay, and why,” Bro had asked as he grabbed his rocket board. “Why was he having to defend himself, yet a-fucking-gain?”

The lady on the other end sputtered, still not used to Bro’s defenses of Dave, or his willingness to back talk to the staff. “I-I don’t think that’s relevant, Mr.Strider,” she stuttered out.

Bro snorted and just hung up on her. He didn’t have the energy tp bitch over the phone to the secretary about Dave. Also, he was going to have to correct people about calling him Dave’s father. Yeah, technically he was, and yes he was on Dave’s birth certificate as the father, but he was adamant, as was Dave, that he was the older brother, not a dad. Bro took a deep breath and headed for the school.

When he arrived, Dave was already in the office, nose and lip bloody, and his broken shades in his little hands. Dave looked up when bro stepped into the office and winced slightly. “Hey,” he murmured. “They broke my shades this time. I’m sorry, I know they’re damn pricey.”

Bro waved Dave off a bit, even as the secretary gasped at Dave’s language. Should Dave be cursing in the fourth grade? Probably not, but Bro hadn’t shied away from swear words while Dave was tiny, so he saw no reason to really police Dave now. Well, aside from a good southern reminder to not swear around old ladies. He took the busted up sunglasses from Dave and tossed them in the trash. He could get new ones later, or dig around for an old pair of his own. He plopped down next to Dave. “Alright, your side before they give theirs.”

Dave sighed heavily and looked at his little red sneakers. “So, it’s Mother’s Day soon,” he started. Oh shit, was it really? Bro didn’t keep track of that shit, seeing as Dave didn’t exactly have a mother, and he himself cut contact with the woman who raised him. “And, a bunch of the other kids in my class know I don’t have a mom,” Dave continued. “They started shit talking to me about it and they didn’t stop when I told them too!”

“So you threw a punch.”

“Yeah… Yeah I did.”

Bro sighed heavily and patted Dave’s back. He didn’t understand Dave’s desire for familial bonds, specifically a mom, but he could try and comfort the kid whenever the topic came up. Hard not to have it come up when Dave started questioning where his own mom was at four. Well, “their” mom. Dave hadn’t, and still didn’t, realize that Bro wasn’t actually his brother, and Bro was content to keep it that way. “Dad” was a high standard he couldn’t live up to. Obviously that didn’t stop him from getting finger painted cards and ugly children’s pottery from Dave every Father’s Day.

No, he didn’t cherish the ugly, half formed “Best Bro” mug that was unable to be drunk from. No, it wasn’t on his desk as a pencil holder, and no the cards weren’t stashed away in a keepsake box under the futon. How dare anyone accuse him of anything but trashing that shit regularly.

The principal called them into the office proper, and Dave led Bro inside, ready to face suspension or, possibly, expulsion. Dave wasn’t unaware of the consequences of getting into fights, but that hadn’t stopped him from engaging.

The principal sighed and looked at Bro. “Mr. Strider,” she began. “I’m certain you are aware of the numerous fights Dave has gotten into.”

Bro grunted, uninterested and picking at his nails. “Yup,” he replied. “I’m very well aware of the frankly ludicrous amount of times he’s been harassed, harangued, and frankly, outright bullied over things that aren’t his fault. I’m happy to start with today, where he was being bullied over his mother.”

The principal took in a slow breath, lips pressed into a thin line. She was used to Bro by now. Very used to him. However, she certainly did not like him. She found him haughty and rude. Perhaps not the worst guardian she’d ever encountered, but he was certainly one of the most annoying. “It does not matter why he started the fight,” she said tersely. “What matters here is that he hit another boy.”

Bro’s jaw tensed. A subtle thing that only Dave really noticed. Bro leaned forward, glaring through his shades at the principal. “You’re wrong, lady,” he growled. “Dave ain’t a violent kid, he has cause when he picks up these fights, or finishes them. You just don’t wanna see what other kids are doing because it's easier on you to throw the bullied kid under the fucking bus.”

The principal huffed and shook her head. “Mr.Strider, I am issuing a three day suspension for Dave,” she said, writing something down. “He will have to complete work for those missed days, as well.”

Bro glared and stood up quickly. “Whatever… Come on, Dave.”

Dave hurried after Bro as Bro left the building. He desperately hoped Bro wouldn’t want a strife when they got home. His hands hurt pretty bad as it was, and he didn’t want another kick to the ribs.

As they walked, thankfully, Bro seemed to be uninterested in him, doing that weird thing where he went completely silent. It was a sign that he was just going to grab his cigarettes when they got home and hide out on the roof for around two hours with Lil Cal and whatever new mobile phone he’d managed to snag (this time it was the Sony Ericsson Z1010, he thought).

Dave spoke softly, “Bro, why don’t we have a mom?” He looked up at Bro, eyes pleading and big.

Bro sighed heavily, pinching his nose bridge. He did not want to have this conversation. He couldn’t just say that he had no mom, could he? That would be pretty shitty. What was a way he could say something without Dave ever bringing it up again? Did he just tell the truth? Did he deflect with bullshit? He could. He was good at it. Really good at it. But he really, really wanted Dave to stop asking. He sighed, deciding to meld truth and bullshit.

“Okay, look, we do,” he said. “But I left with you. Stole you right outta your crib like the Goddamn Hamburglar with those delicious quarter pounders. Mom and dad fucking suck, and I wasn’t gonna give them the chance to treat you the way I got treated. It’s just been easier to say you don’t have a mom because you may as well not, for how she was.”

Yeah, yeah that was good. Divulge just a bit of your own past to appease Dave. Give him some believability and see what he does with it. It wasn’t… Really a lie. Part of why Bro had cut off his adoptive family really was because of Dave. When he’d gotten Dave, he had tried to get support from his adoptive parents, hoping they’d want to bond with their grandchild at minimum. Instead, they’d trashed him for “sex before marriage”, and demanded to know which woman “tempted him away from the path of God” so they could force her to marry him.

On top of that, his adoptive father had promptly used a “training” method on the baby Dave that Bro had been through. He’d tempted the little baby with a toy on purpose, getting him to crawl and reach for it. When Dave’s tiny fingers grazed the toy, Bro’s adoptive father used a familiar, old willow branch to switch Dave’s little hand.

The sound of the branch followed by Dave’s shriek of pain and wailing cry had made Bro see red. He’d pinned the man meant to be his father to the recliner he’d been in, hitting him in the face and breaking his nose.

Bro wasn’t much better than his so-called parents, he didn’t think. He knew his behavior towards Dave was objectionable at best, but he couldn’t imagine putting Dave through the “training” he’d been through. Hitting a four month old baby with a willow branch, pulling a newborn’s hair for biting, pushing toddlers into a pond to teach them not to fall in… None of it was any kind of training for self defense or independence. It was “training” to teach children to fear, to cower, and to obey without question.

Tragically for his “parents”, Bro had been inquisitive, intelligent, and liked to ask “why” for the explicit purpose of finding truth, no matter how irritating he was. He had never been religious and questioned everything. The only reason his “parents”, specifically father, had stopped switching him was because he quickly began fighting back and eventually got too big for them to control easily.

Dave seemed to have finished chewing on the information and he looked at Bro again. “What’d she do to you?”

Ah. The big boy question. The hefty weight he’d have to pick up and either keep carrying it himself, or give some of it to Dave under false pretenses. Bro shook his head. “You don’t get to know, lil man,” he said, leading Dave into their apartment building. “That’s too much for you to process right now.”

Dave huffed in annoyance as he trailed after Bro. He wanted to know why Bro was keeping him away from their mother, his mother… But, if Bro was implying heavy abuse on the part of their parents…

Maybe it was best to let it go, at least for now.

Dave lugged his backpack to his room while Bro retreated to the roof. He hated suspension, but weirdly, he was also excited for the free three days. They were falling right before the weekend, so he was essentially getting five days off of school total. He was mostly grateful that Bro wasn’t mad at him for the fight.

Dave headed to the kitchen to see what remaining snacks he could scrounge up and hide away, things Bro wouldn’t notice. Well, he didn’t think Bro would notice if half of the snacks or food went missing. The man barely ate some weeks. Once, he’d admitted to Dave that he’d been basically surviving off of Monster and cigarettes for days at a time. Essentially, Bro was wildly unhealthy for being as active as he was and forgot food existed, let alone that eating was an activity he needed to partake in. Except the lunch meat for some reason. Bro was bloodhound over the lunchmeat.

Dave grabbed up a bunch of the snacks from the cabinet and carried the armload to his bedroom to stash away in the closet. His rationed snacks and school lunches were a bulk of his meals, but on occasion, when Bro did remember food existed, he’d get hot food. Nothing fancy, but breakfasts in particular always excited him. Cheesy scrambled eggs, tick fried bologna, hashbrowns from the freezer section fried up with cheese, and a Pilsbury biscuit. It was simple and cheap and, honestly, not super well made, but it was a comfort meal for him. It was his favorite breakfast, and his excitement over it sometimes seemed to reach Bro.

Bro would smile just a bit and mess up Dave’s hair affectionately while cooking. A few times, he even had Dave help him and taught him how to crack the eggs. It was one of the few soft moments between them.

Dave plopped down on his bed and laid back after he put away his food. He sighed heavily. The next five days were either going to be the most relaxing days of his school career yet, or Bro was going to make it so he couldn’t relax. He wasn’t sure where Bro’s head was at yet. Actually, he was never sure where Bro’s head was at.

Bro was the kind of person who had a blank face. No, a stone face. Any expression Bro made tended to be pretty neutral or such a minor change to his face that it wasn’t noticeable if you didn’t know him. The shades didn’t help, hiding his eyes and eyebrows. He unnerved a lot of people and he wasn’t exactly liked by most. Bro’s actions also often felt nonsensical and absurd.

Hiding cameras around to film puppet snuff, building puppet cameras to begin with, hiding swords in the fridge, filling the kitchen sink with smuppets, putting a marionette in the shower…

One time, Bro had taken Dave’s old apple juice bottles and decided to melt the glass and make some lenses or something.

In short, Bro was weird and unpredictable, with weird ideas about how to help people. In Dave’s opinion, it was wildly unhelpful to drop him into the building’s laundry room at five and leave him to figure out laundry himself. He’d even left Lil Cal in there to watch him for some reason. Lil Cal was hella cool sure, but damn… It was creepy sometimes, and having it stare at him in the dim, damp lighting of the public laundry room had made Dave uneasy.

Speaking of….

Up on the roof, Bro stared down Lil Cal, who stared back blankly. He wasn’t sure what was up, but he swore Lil Cal was… Talking to him. In the back of his mind, he heard things… Small things, almost passable as intrusive thoughts.

But if there was one thing Bro liked more than puppets or making stupid puppet snuff, it was analyzing patterns. The thoughts weren’t him, he could almost certainly say that. For years, he’d had a voice in his head made up for Lil Cal, and this new voice had sounded similar to that. Nowadays, it sounded less like what he made up as a kid, and more sinister. Frequently, these intrusive thoughts demanded he do things like actively harm Dave, or harass random people. Seemingly nothing odd for intrusive thoughts, but what made him swear it wasn’t him was the fact that this voice got angry when he tried to shake it off.

Bro would hear bitter remarks in his head if he ignored it, and he often felt like something was watching him a little too closely.

Right then though, Lil Cal just stared back with his plastic eyes. Any voices in Bro’s head were silent and he was starting to wonder if he’d just… Made it up.

Bro looked up from his plastic staring contest as Dave wandered outside and over to him. The voice slipped into his head saying he should attack Dave. He shook the thought from his mind, ignoring the little “hoohoohoo” in his head. “What’s up, lil man?” he asked. “Need something?”

Dave sat next to Bro, batting cigarette smoke away from his face, and shrugged. "No, not really,” he admitted. “I just sort of… I dunno, wanted to come see you and hang out?”

Well, that was sort of… New. Typically, they just existed in the same space, but not really together. Dave went about his business as an eight year old would, and Bro did his 28 year old business. Or rather, Bro managed his business ventures and edited videos, photos, logos, icons, music, and more for his weird puppet snuff and online puppet shop. The most that could be considered hanging out in the Strider household was Dave sipping a juice box on the futon while Bro played Tony Hawk or something.

Bro hummed and nodded. “Sure… Hang out.” He put out his cigarette and put Cal over his shoulders like normal, looking at Dave. “Uh… Did you wanna chat or something?” he asked. Damn, he really sucked at talking to Dave when it wasn’t initiated by the kid. He sucked more for feeling like he needed to rely the literal child to start the conversation.

Dave hummed in thought, kicking his skinny little legs. 'Fidgety ass kid', Bro thought. Dave looked over finally. “Can you tell me about your hobbies as a kid?”

Bonding. Right. Bro could totally bond with Dave. Especially over hobbies. Yeah…

Sure they shared hobbies now, like art, music, and sword based strifing. And he definitely knew Dave’s hobbies outside of that. Collecting dead things and photography were huge interests of Dave’s. Hell, Bro had gone out of his way to hunt down weird and interesting dead things for Dave to display, and he’d spent a fortune at that point on disposable cameras and even an old Polaroid camera and film. Dave hung his photos all over his bedroom, a surprising amount of them being pictures of himself or random things he saw in a day.

But as for Dave knowing his hobbies? Yeah, sewing was a hobby, but it was for a business. Puppet making? Business. Music? Business. Robotics or mechanic work? Business. It made sense that Dave didn’t see these things as hobbies because Bro did almost nothing but try to monetize his skills in these things (their quality was frankly debatable, but apparently enough niche groups wanted to see puppet ass). Not to mention, his hobbies now were vastly different to his childhood hobbies. What had he enjoyed as a kid…?

“Well, I used to play baseball,” he finally said, looking at the sky as the sun began to droop below the skyline.

“Whoa, baseball? Really?” Dave asked, sounding stunned.

Bro nodded as he absently lit another cigarette. Habit of being on the roof. “Baseball,” he confirmed. “I was damn good at it too. Fastest bitch on the team with a hell of a swing.”

“Guess that explains how you swing a katana so good. Baseball skills.”

Bro nodded in confirmation, a faint smile briefly gracing his lips. “Never swang anything as heavy as Babe Ruth’s bat, that sucker was 44 ounces. But I had a hefty bat at 34 ounces.” He babbled for a bit about baseball, sort of enjoying talking about the sport. It honestly surprised him how much he had missed it. It had been one of the things he’d abandoned when he’d left his childhood home.

And, boy… Dave was staring at him in awe, little eyebrows way up on his forehead, as he listened to his big brother ramble at him about a sport. Dave wasn’t a sports kid, except for maybe skateboarding, but this topic seemed to have him hooked. Although, perhaps it was less the sport itself, and maybe more about the vigor and knowledge Bro spoke with. Dave was excited to hear more about his Bro, and he didn’t hold back his expression of sheer joy.

Eventually, Bro finished his ramble about middle school baseball, and also his cigarette. The sun was almost down by then, and the only lights up were the lights to the stairs and the ambient street lights below. He made a dismissive gesture towards the stairs. “Go back inside,” he ordered. “It's cold and you need sleep, lil man.”

Dave sighed as he saw Bro’s body language return to its tense and on guard state. He hated not being able to connect with Bro much, almost resenting the dark shades on the man’s face. This man was his only relative and his only real friend right now, his only means of forming a meaningful connection. He had no one else, not really. Despite living with another person, Dave often felt extremely isolated and alone, not that he could necessarily put word to these feelings yet. Reluctantly, he pushed himself to stand and wandered back towards the stairs.

As he opened the stairwell door, he overheard Bro talking to himself. Or was it Lil Cal? Lil Cal was cool, 100%, but was it really worth talking to? Maybe.

Dave shrugged to himself and trotted down to his room, prepared to feast upon a mini bag of pretzels and some cheese whiz for dinner, paired with a lovely apple juice. Motts to be precise. Not his favorite, but it would certainly suffice. Though, perhaps, if he was careful, he might be able to nab some salami from the one slot in the fridge not occupied by unbelievably shitty gas station weaponry.

He paused by the kitchen to contemplate this plan, staring at the fridge as if it would tell him in plain text how many shitty swords were inside its chilly shell, and just how much noise they’d make upon tumbling unceremoniously out of it.

There was also the problem of the shift in Bro’s mood. He’d gone from being a little antsy, to chill, to totally on guard again. A strife would definitely be planned for the morning if Bro found even one sword out of place or the salami missing. Snack food was one thing, Bro would genuinely forget if he ate something or not, or if he’d absently tossed it to Dave. But any actual meat in the house? Bro was weirdly protective of it and basically treated it as a treat for himself, and war rations for Dave.

Food was definitely weird in their house… And not in a fun way, or at least, not fun for Dave.

Dave decided against attempting The Salami Heist, and headed right to his roo

[daredevils-advocate]

Speaking of the numerals love languages. Would you please walk us through iv's next? I think his might be touch too. I was reminded how insane him leaning himself on people makes me after you wrote 'he is using ii as a head rest' 😭

Bet!

Okay, so I absolutely see where you're coming from with Ivy possibly also having touch as his love language, and I can absolutely see that argument being made for all of them. But I'm gonna expand on this post a bit and show you why I think it's actually gift giving.

Once again, not my photos, credit to original owners <3

Fan gifts

So like I pointed out in my previous post, IV is the one most likely to pick up/use a fan gift. He's constantly taking things from the crowd or picking up tossed things (I repeat, don't throw shit on stage.) And I don't think it's a coincidence that even when III or Ves are the ones to pick things up and wear it, it's probably going to end up with IV anyway. He loves receiving those little presents and the others make sure he gets them

Even when he's not supposed to be taking things he ends up with little presents, as we see in these pixels when he picked up this cat ear headband on his way off the stage after it was known that they weren't supposed to accept anything this time.

Signs

Talking about this point because I feel like he would see a sign someone made as a form of gift because even if it's not something he can hold or keep with him, someone still took their time and energy to make it in hopes he'd see it and that's really sweet. If he sees one that catches his eye he almost always points it out and creates a special little moment with the person holding it. Now this one is a little hard to get photo evidence of, but off the top of my head I believe Tank (@/watertankafternoon) [if you see this I just didn't wanna tag you completely unprompted 😅] has talked about their moment with him during Euclid in Budapest and I believe did find a video that someone managed to get of the moment, and you can find many other stories like that about Ivy specifically. Yeah, the others have pointed out signs and things but IV always finds time to make a special little moment about it.

Giving

So this might be my shakiest point because it's kinda hard to give things to each other on stage. Like I said, it seems like when trading around fan gifts, IV seems to be on the receiving end usually, and if he hands it to someone else it tends to happen during backstage intermissions. However, what happened last night in London with the Christmas crackers seems to be possibly my strongest evidence for the claim. When III started bringing them out, just walking up and opening them with people, I know I saw clips of him doing it with IV and the Espera but I'm not sure how often he actually pulled them out, but he lost every time and was getting more and more disappointed with it. Up until Rain, when IV was the one who approached him with a cracker I'm fairly certain was rigged in III's favor. You can tell he's barely holding onto the end. He could tell III was getting agitated with not winning and gave him one he couldn't lose. He makes his little gifts count.

So here's my evidence on IV's love language being gift giving

[vintagetvstars]

Rod Serling Vs. Raymond Burr

Propaganda

Rod Serling - (The Twilight Zone) - Imagine, if you will, a man taking on issues of totalitarianism and censorship in Cold War America...

Raymond Burr - (Perry Mason, Ironside) - "He's arguably best known for film roles... but you have got to see him as Perry Mason. Defense attorney constantly dropped into "easy win for the prosecution" cases and flips them upside down. Maybe not exactly conventionally handsome, but rugged. He has this private little smile when he's about to grab a loophole or mistake the prosecution or a witness has just left for him that I find very endearing..." Full text propaganda included below the cut

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Rod Serling:

"The writer’s role is to menace the public’s conscience. He must have a position, a point of view. He must see the arts as a vehicle of social criticism and he must focus on the issues of his time." -Rod Serling

Raymond Burr:

He's arguably best known for film roles... but you have got to see him as Perry Mason. Defense attorney constantly dropped into "easy win for the prosecution" cases and flips them upside down. Maybe not exactly conventionally handsome, but rugged. He has this private little smile when he's about to grab a loophole or mistake the prosecution or a witness has just left for him that I find very endearing. (I haven't seen any of Ironside so I can't speak on his performance there, but I think it's necessary to include in the submission because while he wasn't actually a wheelchair user in real life, it was the first ever crime show with a disabled main character and I genuinely can't think of another show like that with a *title* character using a wheelchair, particularly of the 60s and 70s.)

This guy had a million hobbies including orchid cultivation, stamp collecting, winemaking, raising cattle and sheep, and founded an association that created a dictionary of the Fijian language. He was a big animal guy and had - from what I've been able to tell - at least a couple dogs (he's noted as one of the first people to import Portuguese Water Dogs to North America), some cats, and a duck. He gave insane amounts of money to charities and was recorded as having sponsored at least 26 foster children with medical needs. He spoke openly about lifelong struggles with weight & image (and about the difficulty of finding acting work when you don't fit the studio hottie build, they made him lose 60+ pounds before they would cast him as Mason despite outperforming their other option in court scenes) and rejected every offer to do a particular popular talk show after the host had started making multiple unprompted jokes about him and his weight. He created numerous inconsistencies in his own life story that, after his death & revelation of a 30+ year relationship with a man he had met during the filming of Perry Mason, have been assumed by both press and people that knew him as intentional exaggeration to keep suspicion of homosexuality low. Absolutely fascinating guy to me, every new fact I learn about him boggles.

[lightofraye]

I will truly never understand the need of so many of your anons to come to your blog and attempt to counter your musings on Jensen and Danneel with stereotypical “true love” claims, and calling her this sweet and loving support for Jensen.

Like, at best Danneel is a vapid gold digger and 40+ year old Mean Girl. At worst, she’s an abusive, possessive scrag who probably uses her children, and the threat of never seeing them, to force Jensen to stay with her.

I’ll admit, that last point was pure speculation only part. But, AAs coming here and acting like they KNOW J & D are this happy, perfect couple is insane. They have nothing to base that on but generic stories (that aren’t actually good if you listen to them), and … the need to see Jensen and his life as perfect, I guess?

I don’t know them personally, obviously, but what I see with my own eyes and hear with my own ears is that they don’t respect each other, they have zero chemistry, Jensen looks like he’d rather be anywhere else when they are together, and he talks over her constantly while clearly thinking everything she says is stipid, while she throws constant sly digs at him.

I don’t know how anyone looks and this couple together and think, “Wow. They are so in love.” People’s ability to delude themselves is just mind boggling.

Hi anon!

I will truly never understand the need of so many of your anons to come to your blog and attempt to counter your musings on Jensen and Danneel with stereotypical “true love” claims, and calling her this sweet and loving support for Jensen.

I… honestly don't get it either. Don't they realize that a large portion of their defense was just claiming Danneel is a lovely, good-hearted person? With zero evidence, despite me asking for it time and time again.

I mean, let's compare here. Genevieve? When she learned AustinAmy was sick with COVID (I believe is the story), she actually sent Amy a gift card and a basket. Unprompted.

Would Danneel have done that? HELL NO.

Like, at best Danneel is a vapid gold digger and 40+ year old Mean Girl. At worst, she’s an abusive, possessive scrag who probably uses her children, and the threat of never seeing them, to force Jensen to stay with her.

You're not wrong about the last part though. The more I look into the situation, looking at different angles, that's EXACTLY what she's doing--using the kids to force Jensen to not divorce her. Abusers--even emotional abusers--will use everything, including kids.

I’ll admit, that last point was pure speculation only part. But, AAs coming here and acting like they KNOW J & D are this happy, perfect couple is insane. They have nothing to base that on but generic stories (that aren’t actually good if you listen to them), and … the need to see Jensen and his life as perfect, I guess?

Yeah. It's baffling. I mean… they could just… NOT read my blog? Why hunt it down? Why hunt down every single anti blog to… what? Harass? Yell? What's the point?? I SEE the way they interact. Heck, at one of The Winchesters promos, when Danneel basically made Jensen kiss her, it was the worst kind of kiss ever--cold, no passion. No desire.

I swear, their obsession to have Jensen be PERFECT is insane. He's human! He's FLAWED! Sometimes he can't hold a tune! Sometimes he over/under acts! Sometimes his fashion tastes left me going "WTF?!" HE'S HUMAN!

I don’t know them personally, obviously, but what I see with my own eyes and hear with my own ears is that they don’t respect each other, they have zero chemistry, Jensen looks like he’d rather be anywhere else when they are together, and he talks over her constantly while clearly thinking everything she says is stipid, while she throws constant sly digs at him.

Pretty much. I could pull a dozen photos of them with zero chemistry and him with chemistry with ANYONE--but her. His numerous death glares. The way he's constantly avoiding any real affection with her in public, while she's always trying to pull him to her.

I don’t know how anyone looks and this couple together and think, “Wow. They are so in love.” People’s ability to delude themselves is just mind boggling.

It really is, anon.

It really is….

Thanks for the input and support!

[nightcolorz]

Random Gotham Rogues Headcanons

(In honor of all the wonderful people who wanted more after my last post, yes I see y’all)

*Jonathan has a huge sweet tooth, the poor bastard didn’t try sugar until he was like 12 and eats candy like it’s his last meal.

*He’ll forget he needs food to live for way too long and eat a gallon of ice cream or some shit that’ll give any sensible man heart palpitations and just be like “😐👍”.

*Selina tells the newer rogues she was raised by cats to freak them out, Jervis still believes her. (Tbf, Selina does walk around with a cat tail on hissing at people and purring on their laps, I don’t blame him).

*Edward has a tiktok account that he made to fule his own ego, he’s a fragile little shit, literally all of his hate comments have video responses (as you can imagine, Edward gets A LOT of hate comments).

*One time a teenager called Edward “submissive and breedable” and he was too baffled to make a clap back.

*The Rogues have a surprising amount of stans. Ivy’s fan base consists mostly of lowly simps, Joker gets stopped on the street daily by greasy redditors and zealous scene kids.

*No one likes Joker, he thinks it’s because he’s “Batman’s favorite” (it’s not).

*For a while Joker has been insistent that he fucked Bruce Wayne once at one of his many parties, no one believes him except for Harvey (begrudgingly).

*He says it’s “Perfectly in character for Bruce” as much as he may hate it.

*Selina denies everything.

*Oswald and Jonathan share solidarity as “the weird bird people”. At first Oswald was a little put off that Jonathan only held knowledge of crows but soon got over that when he realized that now he had an excuse to infodump on someone who might actually be interested.

*Every time Jonathan visits Oswald’s aviary to pick up Nightmare and Craw Oswald jumps at the opportunity to talk about his numerous birds in excess, Jonathan’s a surprisingly good listener.

*Despite Edward and Joker’s long term rivalry Edward has remained relatively civil when faced with Joker’s constant egging on. That is until one iconic day in Arkham Asylum when Edward beat the absolute, ever loving shit out of Joker in the cafeteria. To this day no one knows what exactly got him to snap, not even Joker.

*Harley keeps a scrapbook about all her misadventures + friendships as a rogue, she has a habit of taking pictures of the others at the most inappropriate times (during a heist, while being beaten to a crisp by Batman, ex).

*One time Harley asked Batman to pose for a picture to put in her scrapbook, he obliged to everyone’s surprise.

*Edward is wholly insistent that he doesn’t belong in Arkham, and is convinced he’s completely sane. He’s weirdly obsessed with the fact that Oswald is sane “as well” and will make unprompted snide remarks like: “Blackgate sounds terrific, unfortunately I’ve been misplaced among MORONS, it’s a shame that the system is too incompetent to properly judge my un-categorizable psyche.”

*Oswald usually responds with a simple “🙂👍” or “ok” to avoid conflict, disagreeing with Edward could be catastrophic.

*Art therapy is an occupational hazard for all the Arkham staff. (Seriously, who thought giving super villains an outlet to express themselves was a good idea).

*Edward can’t draw so he spends his time harshly criticizing the other rogues art, that’s caused more than a few fights. The one time Edward’s ever actually done art in art therapy was when he drew a green triangle and explained in complex detail how he colored it to perfection.

*Jonathan is no longer allowed to share his art with the group before having it reviewed by a staff member after emotionally scarring a few patients. He’s one of the few rogues who presents his art every time, just to see the disturbed looks on the others faces when he explains whatever twisted art piece he came up with this time.

*Jervis is probably the most dedicated artist of the bunch, he‘s not allowed to make himself any hats (for obvious reasons) but he’s still a very skilled seamstress and has a very interesting art style (Jervis tries not to draw anything explicitly linked to Alice in Wonderland in fear of getting repercussions, as rogues often do when they engage with their ‘personas’).

*Harvey isn’t very technically skilled in drawing, but Harv usually spices their art up enough to make it interesting. Their drawings are always two themed, as expected. One time Edward criticized a painting of theirs for being “too unrealistic” and Harv had to manually restrain himself from kicking Edward in the teeth.

*Victor can’t draw either, but he writes pretty good poetry. His writing is excessively melodramatic and flowery, and his themes even more so. Half of the presentation period is spent listening to Victor muse about the meaning of life or some shit, his poems are VERY long.

*Waylon and Ivy are the obligatory pretentious painters, both have a fondness for flowers (for very separate reasons). The two will often compare their paintings and wax poetics about the beauty of nature or some bullshit before never speaking again. That’s one of the positives of Art therapy, it brings rogues together who would otherwise not grant each other a passing glance.

*Group therapy is just as (if not more) atrocious than Art therapy.

*The only one who ever talks is Joker (and sometimes Harley, but way less).

*Joker is the embodiment of an irl troll, he does a much better job at getting responses from the other rogues in therapy than the therapists ever could (usually hostile responses but still).

*Occasionally a new and bright eyed therapist will try and coax childhood memories out of the rogues, it never ends well (usually with the rogue or the therapist in hysterics).

*The majority of the Arkham staff are either terribly unqualified or terrible period.

*Music Meister lived with Edward for a short while after escaping Arkham together but he was promptly kicked out because he wouldn’t stop singing.

*Selina and Ivy had a huge argument once because Selina’s cats nibbled on Ivy’s plants.

Okay this post is all ready super long so I’m gonna end it here, as I said last time I can always make more if you guys like these (I’m not running out of headcanons anytime soon!)

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: It's family dinner time, babes!!

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3629

—————————————

Chapter 12: Team Zero

Striding into the steam-clouded sauna where the two remaining Swedish assassins now silently relaxed, The Handler began an unprompted conversation in their language. “All the new age remedies out there, but nothing beats a good schvitz when it comes to stress,” As she sat on the bench, the two men carefully watched her. “My job can be stressful, sure. But I can’t imagine what it must be like for you boys.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Do we know you?” The Swede, who appeared to be the leader, questioned. The Handler kept her head turned forward as she stared down.

“No. But I know all about you,” Standing from the bench, she quietly chuckled and walked to the center of the sauna, the steam crawling its way up to her neck. “However, seems you’ve run into some problems on this job.”

“Just a snag.” He tilted his head.

“You lost your brother. I’d call that more than a snag.”

Snapping, the second Swede pushed off the wall and marched up to The Handler. Before he could get too close, he grunted when she grabbed hold of his manhood, freezing his steps. She watched as his mouth fell open in pain. “What if I can give you the location of the knife-hurling dolt responsible for blowing up your beloved brother?”

The first Swede tilted his head. “Who are you?”

“Somebody you’re going to want to know.” Her eyes never left the man she was assaulting. The second Swede finally found the breath within him to speak.

“Unharm my weiner.” He wheezed in English, The Handler kindly doing as he asked, a smile on her face. He sighed and stepped away as his brother held up the hand that had been twirling a knife the entire time.

“Go on.”

At his words, she turned to him. “I’ll give you the exact location of the one you’re looking for. Diego. The rest… I’ll leave up to your imaginations.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Let’s just say that his little game of ‘Hide the Sausage’ with my daughter needs a swift end. I just have one request,” The Handler approached the first Swede, the two in close proximity now. He watched her every move. “Don’t hurt the little one with the cute socks… and the other with the face scars.”

Lifting his chin, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve already killed her.” He mumbled. She only chuckled in amusement, the two men stiffening at the realization that their target may not have been executed like they thought.

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

The clicking of Reginald and (Y/N)’s shoes against the marble floor echoed throughout the hallway they walked down. The young girl was desperately trying to keep up with her father’s long strides, her puppy in her arms and her heart beating out of her chest. If they had actually complied, she was going to reveal her true whereabouts for the past two years to her family. They were going to know that the entire time they had been looking for Reginald, she was living under the same roof as him. No matter how many times she swallowed the lump in her throat, it always swelled right back up. “D-Dad, who are these people we’re having dinner with?”

“These people have been nothing but a nuisance to me.”

Her mind flashed back to the night of the gala. Diego had been there with Five. They were there for Reginald, to find out his intentions with the president. To find out what he was doing in Dallas in the first place. Reginald was a secretive man, he didn’t even let Grace or (Y/N) into his office unless he was present as well. Her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety the closer they approached the door to the tiki lounge. When Reginald stopped just before the doors, he turned to his daughter and lowered his voice. “When we enter, you are to sit and remain silent. Do not speak to them, do not interact with them. Sit and shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise. And your pet remains on the floor or in your lap. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered and held Mr Pennycrumb close to her chest, the pup quietly panting and licking her cheek. That seemed to be enough for Reginald, for he nodded and turned forward, slamming the door open and marching into the lounge.

The Hargreeves stood dumbfounded at their father as he headed straight to the table they surrounded, not a word leaving his mouth. None of them had expected to see him ever again, especially not after the funeral they had attended back in 2019. But what they really didn’t expect to see was (Y/N) right behind him, her eyes avoiding them as she absentmindedly pat Mr Pennycrumb under his chin. She especially avoided looking at Five, whose jaw was dropped upon her appearance. The real kick was when Reginald pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Without even a peep, she sat down and allowed him to scoot her closer to the table before taking his own seat. The five blinked once before taking their own seats at the table.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked not only me, but my daughter as well, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me-”

Klaus joined the table with a grunt, a martini in his hand. “Hey, Pop. How’s it hangin’?”

“-‘Dad’,” Reginald gave everyone a once over as (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably under the stares of her family. “My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so… who are you?”

(Y/N) watched as they all glanced at each other, opening their mouths to answer, but quickly closing them instead. This went on for a few seconds before Five decided to do it, “We’re your children. We’re from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy.”

Reginald turned his head from left to right, frowning at each individual. “Why on earth would I adopt six-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison clasped her hands together on the table.

“Dead,” Diego muttered, his head bowed down. “One of us is dead.”

“And the eighth?” Reginald questioned. (Y/N) cleared her throat and began to speak, but stopped when he sent a cold glare her way. “What did we talk about?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, I… I’m the eighth. I’m also your child from the future. You just… got me very early this time-”

“(Y/N), it is not the time for your games-”

“It’s not a game! W-Why do you think I’ve been leaving my dates with Preston to be with them?” At the words ‘dates’ and ‘Preston’, Five leaned forward, eyes narrowed at his love. She glanced at him apologetically and shook her head. Reginald was just about to scold her yet again, but she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal the umbrella tattoo on her left arm. “Did you forget about this?”

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus hissed and turned behind him. Everyone froze and stared at him in confusion. Turning forward again, he simply motioned for Reginald to continue. Uneasy, he did just that.

“Regardless,” His gaze turned back to Five. “What would possess me to adopt… seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” The boy answered.

“Special? In what sense?”

(Y/N) set her pet on the ground and sat up in her seat. “In the superpowered sense.” She raised her brows. Reginald sighed and clenched his jaw.

“My child, if you do not stay out of this as we agreed, I am going to have to send you to the car with your mother-”

“Dad! I am being so serious when I tell you I am one of them!”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence,” He turned back to the table. “Show me. All of you.”

Allison scoffed and adjusted the straw in her drink. “Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden…”

“We’re not circus animals, okay?” Luther spoke. “We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement-”

As if on cue, Diego launched a knife across the table, zipping around Reginald’s head and pinning itself into the pillar behind him. The seven leaned in and watched as the man clicked his pen and began writing in his journal. “What are you writing?” Diego asked. Reginald glanced up at him.

“You are zero for two, young man.” He quipped, Allison sputtering her drink before Diego jumped up from his seat in anger. To prevent anything disastrous from occurring, Five stood and blinked in front of his brother, halting his movement and whispering a ‘stop!’ to him. “Now, that is interesting.” Reginald muttered.

Five sighed and headed back towards his seat. “Alright, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Except she never uses it.” Diego muttered. Allison removed her lips from her straw and sent a tight-lipped smile towards her brother.

“I heard a rumor… you punched yourself in the face.”

Against his will, Diego rammed his fist into his face, crying out and groaning in pain immediately after. Klaus reached over and tried to comfort him as (Y/N) and Vanya ducked their heads down to hide their smiles. Reginald glanced over at the latter. “And you?”

Luther placed a hand on his sister’s arm with a smile. “Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.” Klaus sat back in his chair.

“It’s fine,” Vanya shrugged, reaching for a fork. “I can handle it.” And despite her siblings’ protests, she tapped the fork against her glass. A high-pitched tone rang and shook the table. (Y/N) held her breath as she waited for the worst. A beat later, the bowl of fruit in the center of the table exploded, chunks of fruit splattering against everyone’s clothes and faces. (Y/N) tried to dodge as Mr Pennycrumb jumped into her lap, happily licking the food from her scarred cheeks and chin.

Reginald sighed along with his future children as he handed his only actual daughter a napkin to clean herself. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, he side-eyed her. “Alright, my child, show me.”

Not even hesitating, (Y/N) stood and placed her pup in her father’s lap, despite his clear distaste, and straightened her clothes. “Alright. So, I can clone myself. To both summon and dismiss these clones, I have to sing two distinct three-note tunes.” To prove her point, she ‘ooh’ed her first tune, her clone appearing from her shadow, standing with a blank stare. Reginald raised his brows and began writing in his journal. “These clones not only share a conscience with me, but function as muscle and spies.”

“Spies?” Reginald frowned.

“They’re able to record their memories for me to look over in my own mind. Over the past year, I’ve come to learn that I can view these memories in real time. They also function to fulfill any task I command them.” Turning to her clone, she placed her hands on her hips. “Pick up Pennycrumb’s leash,” She commanded, the clone immediately doing as it was told. “I’ve also recently learned that I can give them the ability to talk. But if I wanted to… oh, I don’t know… attend a date with a certain boy without actually being there, I can project my consciousness into its body.”

After taking a seat, (Y/N) immediately slumped in her chair, unconscious. The clone beside her perked up and blinked twice before turning to Reginald. The man leaned forward to inspect it, but jumped back when it spoke. “But if something prevents my clones from fulfilling their task, they will start to self-destruct after twelve hours if said task isn’t completed. This is done by tearing into its own flesh and ripping itself apart.”

At this, everyone shivered.

“Right. It’s terrifying,” The clone returned to its blank and empty shell before (Y/N) raised her head. “And to dismiss, I hum the tune from earlier in its descending order.” She demonstrated said tune, the clone disappearing into her shadow. Mr Pennycrumb excitedly jumped from Reginald to her lap, nuzzling into her arm. “Any questions, Dad?”

Reginald was hastily scribbling into his journal. “Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary… And even more so that you’ve managed to keep this power from me for over a year.” He whispered. Turning her head, she caught Five’s proud smile. She winked at him as Diego stood from his seat.

“Look, we know that you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego reached into his back pocket and slid a picture over to his father. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president’s gonna get shot.”

Reginald picked up the photo and scanned it before his eyes moved to his daughter, the girl slightly shrinking under his gaze. Receiving his answer to the question he was to ask her, he turned back to Diego and set the photo down. “Well… I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearth my nefarious plot,” The smile Diego wore slowly faded. “Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion.” The more Reginald tore into him, the lower Diego sat himself into his chair until his lips were quivering and a tear slid down his cheek. “The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”

“Y-Y-You’re wr… wrong.” Diego stuttered. (Y/N) shakily inhaled and slammed her hand onto the table, alerting the rest of her siblings.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that!”

“And you!” Reginald whirled to his daughter, the girl flinching a bit. “You have done nothing but deceive me! I half expect you to tell me that the man you chose over Preston sits among us!”

(Y/N)’s gaze instantly found Five’s. His green orbs were pleading, begging her to say it.

Tell him. Tell him you love me. Shout it from the rooftops, promise that you’ll always believe in us. Tell him.

But she couldn’t. Not when her doubts sealed her lips shut and casted her eyes away from him. The siblings stared between the two, heartbroken for their situation. Seeing that she chose to be ashamed, Five nodded and cleared his throat to speak. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“War?” Reginald looked away from his daughter and to the boy across from him. “Men will always be at war with each other.”

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well,” Reginald muttered after a beat of silence. “You’re the special ones, aren’t you? Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Expecting much, much more than that, all seven of them frowned. This was what Reginald wanted from the start, for them to come together as the Umbrella Academy and prevent the end of the world. But it had been almost two weeks and two apocalypses managed to form due to their actions. That was why they couldn’t.

Grunting, Klaus suddenly raised both his arms in the air and shook uncontrollably, choking out gasps and jerking his body. (Y/N) gasped and slowly reached out to him.

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing, probably…”

“Should we do something?”

Whipping her head to Luther, (Y/N) widened her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted before turning back to Klaus as he shuddered. “Shit, what if he is overdosing?!”

“Klaus,” Five leaned over and whispered. “Now is not the time. What are you doing?”

Gurgling, Klaus turned his body to Reginald, face contorted in discomfort. “I’m… Ben!” He gasped out before falling to the ground, panting and groaning. (Y/N) rushed to his side and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Klaus? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” She whispered as he reached up and weakly wrapped a hand around her wrist. Reginald looked from Klaus, to (Y/N), then to his journal before he gathered his things.

“Well… thank you for coming,” He stood from his chair and began to walk away, stepping over Klaus’s body. “I’ve seen about enough. Come along, (Y/N), your mother is waiting for us.”

A loud slam sounded, causing everyone in the room to turn to Luther, who stood and ripped his buttoned shirt open. (Y/N) covered her mouth when he revealed his discolored bare chest and abdomen. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!”

As the siblings groaned and gawked, Reginald simply turned his attention to Five. “You in the culottes. A word, in private? (Y/N), to the car. This instant.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered before giving Klaus a kiss on the forehead and standing to her feet. Five walked by her side in silence until they had to split ways. Reginald turned to the both of them, and just when (Y/N) was going to turn out of the lounge, Five grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to her lips. Gasping, the girl brushed her fingertips over her lips as her face burned. She watched Reginald for a reaction, but he only motioned for her to leave. “Bye, Five.” She grinned behind her hand and hurried away.

“This way, boy.” Reginald brought Five’s attention back to him, leading the two of them to the bar. After they took their seats and he ordered their drinks, Reginald turned to his future son. “You seem to be the sensible one of the bunch.”

“That’s because I’m the oldest,” Five nodded, Reginald tilting his head. “You know, technically, I’m older than you right now.”

Reginald turned forward when the bartender set down a bottle in front of him. “Cognac?”

“Just a smidge.” Five slightly smiled. As he poured their drinks, Reginald started their subject of conversation.

“The other night, you quoted Homer at me. Why?”

Five shifted in his seat and straightened his blaser. “You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less.” He raised his brows before a glass was passed to him. He and his father did a silent cheer before he took a gulp of it. The entire situation was so jarring to the boy, but as he said before, he didn’t choose this life. He’s just living it. For the next few days, anyway. “This world ends in five days if we don’t get out of the timeline.”

“Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on.”

“We can do something about this one.”

“Man’s greatest flaw: the illusion of control.”

The boy frowned. “I need your help. Alright? You’re my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don’t wanna make. What do you know about time travel?”

“In theory?”

“In practice.”

Reginald hummed. “I know it’s akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-”

“-as an acorn. Yeah.” Five finished with a sigh.

“What transpired when you tried traveling before?”

The boy blinked and shook his head as he looked away. “I botched it…”

“How?”

“I jumped too far forward, got stuck in the future for forty-five years in an apocalypse. Then I jumped too far backwards… except this time, I brought my entire family with me.”

Reginald tapped his fingers against the bar as he clicked his tongue. “Including (Y/N)?” He questioned, receiving a nod in answer. “Well, maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

“Seconds?” Five widened his eyes. “Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow an empire,” His eyes moved from Five to the doorway (Y/N) had been standing in seconds ago unbeknownst to Five. “One could fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight.”

Five swallowed, his expression that of defeat. “I was really hoping you had more than that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…”

Five shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid… I didn’t know any better.”

Humming, Reginald glanced down before raising his glass. “No skin off my teeth, old man.” He smiled before drinking. Five sighed and downed the rest of his drink before standing from his seat. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Five turned back to his father, freezing at the cold look he had been giving him.

“It would be best… if you refrained from courting (Y/N).”

A pang going through his chest, Five rapidly blinked and stepped back. “W-What…?”

“Your relationship is not healthy,” Reginald stood from his stool and began walking past the boy. “And besides…”

Five clenched his fists as his father walked towards the exit of the tiki lounge.

“I have plans for her.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sappyassmemes @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz @luckyzipperscissorsbat

[butwhatifidothis]

Tumblr is starting to VERY MUCH dislike how long the other reblog chain is getting, so this will be Reblog Chain 2 of my jotting down notes of this fic. Here is the first reblog chain for Chapters 1-20

But it appears as though I was correct in sleeping off Chapter 20, because Chapter 21 is. Hm. bad. Very. Not good.

Chapter 21:

Transcript under the cut:

Chapter 21: It's Called Scars so it Gonna Be Ass

- To be blunt, the constant need to reaffirm that yes, Edelgard went through terrible experimentation and that yes, they were very horrific, is tiring. This is chapter 21. The experiments occurred in chapter 2. Every single chapter between now and then have, at some point, mentioned that INDEED, Edelgard DID in fact go through horrific trauma. It is tiring to the reader to constantly have to reread the same thing - we know it happened. We know it was terrible. There's no need to constantly say so; we already understand as readers.

- "Every time the spark of life broke through Byleth’s blank face, it brought a flickering hope to the Flame Emperor’s heart." ->

- Firstly: Awkward use of the Flame Emperor epithet (its usage is on and off with how appropriate its been - this is off).

- Secondly: Once again, Byleth's face was rarely if ever blank. She was never the Ashen Demon, as even the last chapter showcased. The author is mistaking reservation with emotionlessness, which is simply wrong

- "There had been so many empty days and nights, without friendship, love or joy. With nothing to hope for, except someday, the peace of the grave." -> Suicidal tendencies: another trait that Edelgard doesn't have... (strikes against canon: 89)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 12

- "Dimitri, too, was troubled by the thought, grasping the side of his head and frowning. As the spasm passed, he turned to Edelgard and smiled warmly." -> It seems a little callous to so casually toss Dimitri's symptoms into his interactions with others when such things simply don't occur in the canon interactions. It's not impossible, or strictly against canon, but it does not feel natural; it's more as though the author is shining bright neon signs that say DIMITRI HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES than a genuine attempt at writing Dimitri's mental health issues. This is not the first time this sort of seemingly thoughtless showcasing of symptoms has happened (Noted separately: Dimitri having drastic mood swings)

- "No, this world must be ruled by humans…not cruel gods who ignored the prayers of little girls." -> This statement follows Edelgard internally chastising the actions of not gods, but the Children of the Goddess. This is a weaselly attempt at dodging Edelgard's racist beliefs that Nabateans should not be allowed positions of power by shifting the belief to apply to miscellaneous gods instead. While not inaccurate per se - she does also canonically believe that gods should have no power in human affairs - it is not honest

- "Byleth nodded with childlike simplicity. “We should all try to get along.”" -> Again describing Byleth as childlike and/or innocent. Counter: 3

- For those curious: yes, the rat scene is implemented, yes it is sloppy, yes it is out of character for Claude - so much so that it is being noted separately - and yes it is forced to all hell

- What will be noted here, however, is that this is yet another instance of a man being demeaned/humiliated for the honor of a woman. See quote: "Byleth was on him in an instant, a tempest forming in the sea of her blue eyes. “That isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms sternly. “Jokes are about bringing people together...about making them smile. Right now, the only person laughing is you.”" with Claude reacting awkwardly. Once again, Man Bad Woman Good

- In a showcasing of a complete lack of self-awareness within the fic: "“Maybe if you’d have taught the Deer instead…but since you seem to have no ambitions outside of cleaning up Edelgard’s messes…”" -> This is Claude being portrayed as the bad guy, not the one being completely and utterly right

- " She slapped Edelgard on the back, and smiled heartily. “I agree, Dimitri!” Edelgard grimaced, trying to hide the fact her teacher had just struck the wound she had received during the mock battle." -> As well as where undoubtedly countless scars would be, yes? Scars that still cause Edelgard pain? In fact, Edelgard has been slapped on the back by Byleth and Jeralt numerous times before, and yet expresses no pain or discomfort.

- Another thing, that I had not noted though ought to have: Edelgard, a victim of sexual assault (in this fic), rarely seems to mind people touching her. She gets a little surprised if someone tries to get her attention with touch, yes, but Byleth's constant unprompted and random touching of Edelgard is never said to do anything but bring warmth and joy and comfort to Edelgard. It seems as though Edelgard suffering through sexual assault is just another source of trauma for the author to dump onto her for nothing more than pity points

- This is incredibly harsh to say, yes, and I would usually refrain from attributing such harshness onto a piece of text, but remember that Edelgard's scars only cause her pain when it's convenient, that she only experiences headaches when it's convenient, that she experiences PTSD episodes (when Claude mentions the rat) when it's convenient (note that in this fic he does it outside of battle, where her getting triggered wouldn't compromise her chances at victory). Edelgard not being touch averse and being a victim of sexual assault are not inherently something bad - survivors react to trauma differently, after all - but it is another in a steadily longer line of instances where Edelgard is simply given trauma for the sake of making her pitiable to the reader and the love interest, not something that Edelgard genuinely has to struggle with.

- "As Claude and Dimitri looked at their classmate expectantly, Edelgard was wracked with another bout of guilt. Deep in her soul, the princess knew these peaceful days would end soon. When that happened, no feast or vows of friendship could make up for the chaos and horror she would unleash. It would be better to pull away, close off her heart, rather than fuel the flames of her inevitable betrayal." -> Aka, "Feel bad for me, I feel guilty for planning to cause the death and ruination of countless innocents' lives all because I convinced myself that my way is the only way to get things done my way without ever actually trying to see if more peaceful ways could have worked. I'm going to orphan children, force families to fight each other, have the land be rampaged by banditry, and overall bring chaos onto these days that I ADMIT ARE PEACEFUL all because I feel that my way would be better. Wah wah pity me but I don't wanna be pitied I promise wah wah."

- "Byleth shrugged with a characteristic blend of innocence and spirit. “I guess I just like winning.” She began to blush and grabbed Edelgard’s hand. "It's so exciting! I’ve never had anyone other than Papa to celebrate with before!”" -> Byleth = innocent/childlike. Counter: 4

- The fic likes to reaffirm again and again that Byleth is "now" only acting like this due to Edelgard's presence in her life. Note also these statements written previously: "Every day, [Edelgard] was watching the person she loved grow and change. Become who she always was supposed to be." This, perhaps unintentionally, again enforces the "Lesbian Love is Pure and Innocent" trope; these wlw are only allowed to be their good girl, innocent selves - who they were always supposed to be - due to the pure lesbian love they have found with one another

- Count Bergliez didn't know of the experiments initially, but he eventually found out and did nothing to stop them, fleeing from a young and tortured El who was pleading for him to save her - Unnecessarily painting Count Bergliez as a spineless coward too afraid of Duke Aegir to save a child in pain

- Once again, a man fails to save a woman and further traumatizes her

- It should be noted that Bergliez is fearful not for his own life, but for that of his children, who were the ones Duke Aegir threatened. He, very similar to Ionius, cannot save Edelgard, except Bergliez (unlike Ionius) has a tangible, physical, explainable reason as to why he couldn't, and yet it is him who is painted as the bad guy, not Ionius. He is worthy of Edelgard's scorn and hatred, but Ionius only receives a begrudging feeling of betrayal from Edelgard that she feels guilty for harboring, even though he failed her far more than Bergliez failed her.

- "Daughters must always be loyal to their fathers" trope

- "No decent person thought the things Edelgard did. Just as her body had been twisted and shattered by the experiments, her mind bore terrible scars. Scars that the monster kept hidden, so she could walk in the world of men." -> Dehumanizing oneself as a monster as well as having violent thoughts (that specifically stem from trauma) one feels guilty for harboring are not traits Edelgard shows in canon... (strikes against canon, 90, 91)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 13, 14

- "world of men?" Did the author perhaps mean "world of man," as in mankind? Keep note of

- The reason as to why Bergliez is said to have witnessed young El's tortured state and did nothing to help her is revealed: in canon, he dislikes her. It is blatantly and objectively said that he and Edelgard share a mutual displeasure in the other's company. What this fic had him do will be used as an excuse as to why he doesn't hate her, since no one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Edelgard, upon being asked if revenge is the reason she is doing what she's doing (reuniting Fodlan): "“No.” Edelgard put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I think for a long time, it was…but after a while, I realized that revenge wouldn’t satisfy me.” She looked at the blue sky above. “After you go through that much suffering…when you beg for help, day after day, and no one cares...you realize that nothing will ever truly make you feel safe again. The only thing I want is for this madness to end.”" -> This is internally inconsistent. See chapter 15 note: ""You know why they created me in the first place.” / “To reunite Fódlan,” spat Hubert. “It was all my father talked about.” / “And I will give it to them. "" This directly connects Edelgard's want to reunite Fodlan to the wants of her tormenters (as this states she is doing it out of spite). Note how Hubert spits at the idea of reuniting Fodlan, and how it was all his father - portrayed as a villain - talked about. This is not what this Edelgard wants, at least not of her own independent want. Earlier in this very chapter, Edelgard internally states a want to hurt Bergliez for leaving her behind. To say that she now no longer thinks vengeance would satisfy her, or that none of the reason that she is doing everything she does is out of a want for revenge, is ridiculous

- Edelgard to Bergliez, upon being asked what will happen to him and his family should Edelgard rise to power: "“All those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded. Given your history, I have little doubt you will be among them.” She nervously played with her white gloves. “All I ask is that when I seize back control of the throne, I can count on the military’s support.”" -> Yes, all who distinguish themselves to Edelgard, for Edelgard's cause, that Edelgard can see and/or know of. How likely is it that a poor farmer who is exceptional at fighting will actually be noticed by Edelgard and be given the credit he deserves, when others who may not be as meritable but do have some merit have the connections to show themselves directly in front of Edelgard? What means will Edelgard give the poor soldiers (that she or Byleth aren't already friends with, notably Dorothea and Leonie) that will allow them to be able to be seen by her and have their merits recognized? Edelgard is the one who says who gains power after all, so it is her they must prove themselves to, but how can they realistically do that?

- What about professions that are not immediately beneficial to Edelgard's cause, such as the arts? How will they fare in Edelgard's society, when their works and talents yield no tangible, objective results (such as, say, farming)?

- Something the fic will address?

- Edelgard does not nervously do anything in front of those she is trying to negotiate with in canon, not even Thales. Strikes against canon: 92

- "[Bergliez] could only laugh in response. “I think we’re going to get along rather well, my lady…and the other?”" -> Except Bergliez and Edelgard don't get along well, ever. Pre ts they are stated to dislike each other, which continues even onto post ts with Bergliez being the only noble Edelgard couldn't bring to heel. Strikes against canon: 93

- As predicted: No one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Literally forgot Hubert was with Edelgard and Bergliez lmao

- Ionius tried to consolidate power to be rid of the consort system due to his unending love for Anselma -> A ridiculous idea, plain and simple. Ionius was Emperor. If he wished to be rid of the consort system there was no need for him to try and take away all power from the other Imperial houses.

- If Ionius truly loved Anselma, why did he allow her to be exiled from the Empire? Why didn't he step in and use his influence as Emperor to help her?

- Edelgard, when she is Emperor - passed down a supposedly empty crown, at that - showcases the all-encompassing power the title of Emperor truly holds to one willing to use that power. That Ionius supposedly wanted to do all of these reforms and yet nothing at all was done, ever (save for ruining Houses Hrym and Ordelia, something even this fic has as canon), if Ionius did want to make these reforms, means that he was too spineless and cowardly to truly go through with trying to pass them. This again unintentionally showcases how awful a ruler and weak-willed a person Ionius was when he had power when trying to paint him in this righteous light.

- Lambert was stated to be trying to pass reforms before he died in canon, not Ionius. From parents to the children, the author is attributing traits from Lambert onto Ionius just as he (author's confirmed gender is male) attributes traits from Dimitri onto Edelgard

- " Her father and mother…she had thought their romance a fairy tale-a story from her father to make a motherless child feel valued. But…they truly had loved each other." -> Edelgard does believe Ionius when he told her of the story of when he and Anselma (supposedly) met each other. There is nothing to indicate that Edelgard thought it to be a lie: in fact, in canon: "But I choose to believe there was genuine love between them." Strikes against canon: 94

- It seems as though finally, after around 18 chapters, Edelgard's scars will finally cause her genuine inconvenience due to her complex about them as well as her trust issues. She has a gash on her back from the Battle of Eagle and Lion, but will not have it treated if Manuela isn't the healer, and yet the woman is occupied dealing with the rest of the students who were injured. How will this fic deal with this?

- Ingrid, referring to her and Sylvain: ""We just switched from Felix lecturing us all day to listening to Edelgard moralizing, didn’t we?"" -> The author is trying to compare a childhood friend whose friends have had years to get used to their barbed tongue to a stranger that directly insults the dreams of one of them. Something which Ingrid canonically hates having be done to her, even from Felix, a childhood friend. Once again, Ingrid being so casual about Edelgard being so disrespectful of her dreams is out of character. Strikes against canon: 95

- "Sylvain shook his head knowingly, ignoring Felix’s truly alarming scowl. “You should have seen his face, Edelgard. Dimitri would go on and on about this girl he met when he was a kid…and Felix would complain about her for hours!” He looked at Felix and smiled. “For all his whining about the “Boar,” nobody loves Dimitri more than him.”" -> Oh? A romantic gay male relationship presenting itself within the fic?

- Another vision of SS experienced by Edelgard. Word from a nameless guard: "The woman, Byleth, leading their forces... She’s not human! She killed half my battalion with one swing of that sword of hers. She didn’t speak, she didn’t shout, she didn’t even change her expression!” The panicked man was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “All those people rallying around her, and it’s like she doesn’t care at all. Like she's a walking corpse!"" -> Obviously saying that Byleth becomes the Ashen Demon if not allowed to be with Edelgard.

- Unintentional statement: Byleth can't be the pure innocent (lesbian) woman without Edelgard's (lesbian) love granting her purity, reverting her to a monstrous, corrupt demon incapable of humanity

- See chapter 20 note: "Implying that choosing SS - aka, choosing the Nabateans - makes Byleth less human. Intentional?" Confirmed to be intentional. Also false: in canon, even when accounting for CF's lesser chapter count, Byleth emotes far more on SS than on CF, which matches with CF having Edelgard call Byleth detached in their A support. Strikes against canon: 96

- The same nameless soldier, same context: "And those Faerghus kids…” / Edelgard leaned forward in her chair. “Ingrid…Sylvain…what of them?” / “They…they were animals. Screaming and ranting about revenge for the King.” -> Is the author really demonizing Sylvain and Ingrid for (potentially!) being mad at Edelgard for murdering one of their childhood friends? Is that really the depths the Edelgard worship will sink to, that friends becoming enraged at a friend's unjust murder from a warlord is being portrayed as something sad for the warlord? Just what else should Edelgard be pitied for?

- "The scared girl desperately tried to drown out the thoughts that reverberated incessantly. / They’re going to despise us…it’s destiny. And how could they not? If we were truly good, the Goddess would have saved us…protected us. But She didn’t. The Goddess took Mother. She took our family. And soon, She’ll take everything else we love. She hates us. / It’s what we deserve." - Now confirmed that Edelgard hears multiple voices in her head tormenting her. That trait that, once again, Edelgard does not have... (Strikes against canon: 97)

- ...but Dimitri does. This is the third time this chapter that this has happened, and far from the only chapter to display such baffling characterization of Edelgard via Dimitri's traits. It is nonsensical.

- " Why had [Edelgard] even been born at all? Nonexistence would have been preferable to watching every faint dream be dashed, to suffering alone over and over. She was just…so tired of being alive." -> Once. Again. Suicidal tendencies/thoughts is not a trait Edelgard shows in canon... (Strikes against canon: 98)

- ...but Dimitri does. The fourth! The fourth time in one chapter the author desperately wanted to just write Dimitri!

- If the fic wanted to take Edelgard in a different direction than canon does and has her display some of these traits, it would be more passable, but this fic is under the delusion that it is in any way following canon closely, especially in regards to Edelgard, and so this can only be seen as a desperate attempt from the author to have Edelgard be sympathetic by donning the skin of an actually sympathetic character such as Dimitri

- "Edelgard looked at herself in the mirror. The back of her academy uniform was stained red, the rhythmic, soft dripping of blood assaulting the princess’ ears." -> And no one commented on this? No one was worried? Not Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, who were sitting right by her? Not Lysithea, who saw her take the blow to her back and never get it healed? Not Dimitri, who delivered the blow? It just so happened that literally no one at all noticed this?

- Byleth literally slapped Edelgard on the back earlier? Wouldn't her hand come back red with blood if it were seeping through the uniform?

** The scene that follows the previous note is too long to quote, despite how truly terrible it is. Long quotes, even extremely long quotes, have been presented in these notes before, but the length this quotation would be if the full extent of it were written here would be a mess, and quite frankly, at that point it would do one better to simply go to the fanfiction itself and read the text from there. With the context received from these notes, if one wishes to see the words for themselves, go to chapter 21 of The Emperor and the Goddess, enter Ctrl + F (or Find in Page on mobile devices), and enter the phrase "Byleth crossed her arms, clearly frustrated" verbatim. The following note will not be quoting the entire scene from the fic (merely summarizing it), though context is needed to understand how truly bad the scene is. **

- To have hope in this fic performing anything correctly is proving to be a fool's dream, for it has yet to do anything right; that includes the aforementioned gash upon Edelgard's back. As stated, it did not draw the attention of those who were sitting around her nor did it draw the attention of the one who witnessed the injury itself, nor of the one who delivered the injury itself, so no one commented on the gaping, bleeding wound Edelgard was "hiding" from everyone as she turned her (bleeding) back to them and left for the baths to clean up (it must be heavily stressed: immediately after leaving it is revealed that the blood is seeping through her uniform). As she was washing - naked, of course - Byleth just so happened to step into the baths with only a towel wrapped around her "for modesty," much to the horror of Edelgard, for she does not want Byleth seeing her scarred body. A slight argument arises between the two over Edelgard getting her injuries checked, before Byleth warns Edelgard that she will go to Rhea and force her to go to the infirmary should Edelgard continue to refuse treatment, which drives Edelgard past the brink. She raises her arms from the bathwater and presents her scars (""Fine!... If you want to see so badly, here!""), to the horror of Byleth ("Byleth Eisner was not a woman given to strong emotional reactions, but she staggered back, hands over her mouth."). Edelgard cries in hysteria, fear of her beloved teacher running away in disgust over her ugly, mutilated body overwhelming her. But Byleth, childlike in her innocence, shared that she too is scarred in strange ways, and that she too is scared of failing those around her - that she has no ambitions save to help and protect those around her. Byleth reveals that it is Edelgard whom Byleth looks up to for always being so strong and always moving forward, and shows that without Edelgard Byleth wouldn't know how to handle the pressure everyone else puts on her. The exchange ends with Byleth reassuring Edelgard that she is beautiful and not the monster she thinks she is.

- There is no nice way of putting this: this is a classic example of how not to write someone opening up to another about something. Edelgard views herself as weak, ugly, repulsive, a monster, shameful, but it is Byleth's love and affection that gives her comfort and warmth, that gives her hope of something more. It forces Byleth to behave wildly out of character (the author can try to excuse this with "well she wouldn't normally behave like this!" all he wants, it doesn't matter when it goes against the base, canonical Byleth. Strikes against canon: 99) in order for Edelgard's scarred body to be seen as something that is repulsive, that is ugly, that is stained, so much so that the pure, childlike, innocent Byleth couldn't stand to see something so tainted. And yet it is that same pure, childlike, innocent Byleth's pure, innocent, childlike love that pushes away the pain of Edelgard's scars for just that moment. Other characters become suddenly blind and/or forgetful of Edelgard's obvious, bleeding wound so that it is Byleth who can be the one to save Edelgard with her pure, innocent, childlike presence and her pure, innocent, childlike uncertainty about her own insecurities (but only when it is convenient for Edelgard, as even Byleth didn't noticed the gaping, bleeding wound until she was alone with Edelgard where no one could interrupt their bonding moment). This scene is inorganic and forced, ham-fisting Edelgard and Byleth in the same room - the wash room, where both are either naked or nearly naked - so that Byleth is the one to find Edelgard, no one else. No one was worried enough about the sudden exit Edelgard took from the conversation she was having to follow her and make sure she was alright, and Byleth just so happened to enter the baths right after Edelgard. The scene is, to be frank, insulting.

- There have been a couple of joking references to a book titled Stones to Abigail in these notes, but in all seriousness, this scene plays unsettlingly similar to a scene in said book, where a scarred girl who is naked reveals her "ugly" and "revolting" scarred body to the love interest, who goes on to soothe and comfort the naked girl as best they can. The resemblance is uncanny

- Byleth described as childlike/innocent. Counter: 5

- Edelgard, in canon, never expresses feeling herself to be ugly, or repulsive, or a monster. Strikes against canon: 100

- Again, Edelgard's scars are only important when they are convenient - this time, in helping develop the romantic relationship between her and Byleth

- There are ways in which scars can be utilized without being problematic, but certainly not when this much focus is placed on them and yet they are only truly present when they cannot hinder Edelgard.

- Perhaps particularly insulting is this phrase from Edelgard: "Did she actually love Byleth at all, or just being saved by her?" Yes, Edelgard, you do simply want to be saved by Byleth, because that is precisely what the narrative has been drilling into the reader's heads ever since Byleth showed herself. Byleth is Edelgard's light, Byleth is Edelgard's hope, Byleth gives Edelgard back her humanity, Byleth is Edelgard's one source of joy, Byleth is Edelgard's entire life, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this fic has shown this to ever be a bad thing. This dependence on Byleth to bring Edelgard joy at the near complete expense of everyone else has been propped up as something romantic, and yet it's now, 21 chapters and over 85K+ words in, that we're supposed to believe that this was actually Edelgard being unhealthy? Even though the author himself said that this was what he enjoyed about their relationship, how much they found each other in each other? Even though we see what the author thinks would happen to the two of them should they separate - Edelgard, lonely and afraid without her beloved teach, and Byleth, the Ashen Demon who cares for nothing without her beloved student - in her visions of SS? This is a joke

- It cannot be overstated that Byleth came to the bathhouses completely independently of Edelgard. She did not come to specifically see her because she followed her out of worry for Edelgard due to her injury - she only knows that Edelgard's injured in the first place due to seeing bloody bandages that Edelgard removed in the bathhouse, before Byleth arrived.

- Author's notes: "On Bergliez, we find out very little in-game, but he 1) offers himself for execution so his men can go free in SS and 2) seems to be actually competent at his job. I thought a nuanced portrayal was more interesting, since I've been writing Aegir as the absolute worst person in the world." -> Note: this is what the author believes to be a nuanced take on someone. Someone who likes Edelgard entirely and does nearly whatever they can to help her, but they did one thing that's morally gray (leaving a child behind to save his own children from the same fate) that is portrayed as objectively bad, so now they are nuanced. While perhaps this sort of character would be truly nuanced in better hands, as it is with his actions being portrayed as something that is obviously so completely and utterly wrong and him someone who deserves complete and utter condemnation - and yet Ionius, who does far worse for far less understandable reasons, gets a comparative slap on the wrist - it causes confusion as to Edelgard's lines. Bergliez seeing her the one time and never helping her is enough for her to want to hurt him as she was hurt, but her father repeatedly coming to and "being forced" to watch her actively be tortured and doing nothing does little to invoke similar depths of resentment? Even granting the idea that "she gives more slack to her father," Ionius is objectively and far worse than Bergliez, down to doing hard things to protect their children, and yet it is only Bergliez who is shined in this unpleasant a light

- To be clear, Bergliez's decision was not a good one, but understandable. It is a gray decision to make. But notice how he is called "gray" and "nuanced" and yet Ionius is nearly completely innocent, as described by the author himself, despite their being no given explaination as to why "he was a figurehead" should be a good enough reason to wash him literally standing there and watching as his children - some of whom aren't even teens yet - get slowly tortured and killed.

- "There are many localization changes I understand (Byleth wanting to get drunk after the battle is one of them), but Treehouse's decision to remove Ionius' entire reason for power centralization (eliminating the consorts) was a big, big mistake." -> Given the history of this author's grasp on the Japanese language, this needs to be checked, as he cannot be trusted as a source as to whether this is true

******* Notes of Claude mischaracterization: Chapter 21, section 1, paragraphs 1, 21 & 23, 27 *******

[alsikamiwrites]

I was wondering how Muriel would react to a traumatized war veteran who had his brother exicuted by his commanding officer

(He/they)

Muriel reacting to a traumatized war veteran M/c whos brother was executed

Story style: Head-canons Requested by: anon Note: I wasn't sure if you wanted your ask to be a head-canon or a scenario, but I thought it'd be easier to write as a head-canon, so I went with that. I was also unsure of how you wanted the relationship to be, so I went platonic. I hope this is okay, though of course, if you would like something different, let me know! Thank you for sending me an ask💛 Slight Spoiler warning! Tw: Mentions of trauma, murder, panic attacks, and Ptsd

Muriel isn't a stranger to trauma himself.

He knows of the way it haunts you. Keeps you up at night. He knows of the phantom sensations that trick your mind into reliving things that were long in the past. The flashbacks that replay in your minds eye, like a silent movie you can't turn away from. He knows how much it hurts, and how much it will always hurt, everyday. That it never really truly goes away.

That's why he knew the man was going through more than he let on, the more he got to know him.

He was quiet, kept to himself a lot of the time, much like himself.

He wasn't all that interested at first, given the fact that he was trying to avoid others as much as he could.

But after getting to know the man who had come to be one of his dearest friends, he finds himself caring.

Concerned about the far away look his friend had in his eyes, the one that sometimes left him sitting in the same spot for hours on end.

The flinching at sounds that were a bit louder than anticipated, away from unexpected touches, (accidental, of course. He wasn't a touchy person much in the first place.) things that moved too quickly in his already wary sight.

The unprompted attacks of panic that had him screaming his lungs out, chest rising and falling sporadically as if the room were swallowing him whole, punching and writhing out of Muriels' confused and frantic hold as he tried his best to calm him down.

Muriel hated confrontation.

Hated having to ask something of someone when he knew he would hate the same thing asked of himself. Knew he'd never open up.

But he recognized what he was going through.

Could see it so clearly it hurt.

He could see himself.

So he couldn't just...Stand by and watch his friend fall apart right in front of his eyes.

He's not the best at comforting others, not having much experience, but he would try. So one day, after a lot of contemplating, he'd sit him down, deciding to ask him about what was going on

Honestly, he really didn't expect him to talk about it, but he'd definitely listen if he needed someone to lend an ear.

If he'd rather not talk, Muriel would be more than okay with that.

Would suggest going somewhere to get his mind off of it for a little while instead, even though he knows how hard that can be.

Maybe they'd go for a walk in the forest, or he'd go with them into the city, (even though the large man didn't care for it much there, with it being so lively.)

Pretty much anything to distract him from the inevitable and overwhelming grief he knew his friend was going through.

Inanna would even allow him to pet her, sensing his distress, knowing she could trust him given Muriels' friendship.

But if he does end up telling Muriel what happened, he'd let him talk about it without any interruption, his face almost holding no reaction.

Though as soon as trembling hushed words of the horrifying reliving goes into the air, his skin is as white as a sheet, hands shaking atop his knees and tear burned eyes holding sheer remorse as he watches them break down.

It hits almost too close for him, with his past. How he'd...What he was forced to do in the colosseum.

How he had to watch the life of numerous victims eyes drain at his hands, over and over again.

While he knows his situation is much different, his mind can't help but to make the connection.

The constricting ropes of guilt wrapping around him without relent as he watches him try and hold back sobs, try to keep his voice steady, visibly at the brink of another panic as his eyes stare off like they often did.

Somewhere far from where they were sitting at the moment.

Somewhere Muriel knew he couldn't reach. Did they...Did those people go through this hurt too? Did they fall apart with sobs wracking their bodies at the thought of their loved ones dying at cruel hands- his hands.

Did they flinch, and scream, and relive the same nightmare over and over-

He'd force himself to snap out of his own down-ward spiral, blinking away the remaining tears in his eyes with a shaky breath, arm going to wipe away any that strayed quickly.

He didn't deserve to cry.

He, his friend who had helped him when Muriel was in a state not much different than his own, who had understood his traumas, understood him- he needed him right now.

He knows of how much his friend had cared for his brother, having heard so many stories of the man, seen the smile that didn't show very often lift his lips.

Knew he'd held so much pride for his sibling.

Even though Muriel hadn't met him himself, with how much his friend,( who didn't speak so much otherwise)- had spoken so highly of him, he found himself having respect for the man himself.

He's not much help in the regards of wording, but he hopes that his presence is enough.

He's not sure if a pat to the back as comfort would do any good, not knowing how he felt about touch at the moment considering what he had gone through in the past,

But he would definitely sit a safe distance beside him, and ask if he needed anything from him.

Muriel would allow him to vent and let it out for as long as he needed, to grieve.

To lose a brother, family, in that way no less- was nothing short of horrible.

He resented the man who had done it, wanting nothing more than to do something about it. The urge to hurt someone, an urge that usually made him sick to the stomach- to hurt that man, the person who left his friend in this state.

But he knew he couldn't.

The devastating event, while somewhat recent, had happened a little while ago by the sounds of it.

Though, even if he couldn't do anything quite substantial, Muriel could at least be there for him.

Calm him down when he had another trigger induced panic,

Distract him when he noticed he wasn't quite there like he should be,

Do whatever he knew would make the man temporarily happy,

Just...Be the person he wished would've been there for him.

It would be a long ride, these kinds of things; trauma, never just up and left.

But it would subside, little by little. Be a little less painful everyday.

And Muriel knew some days would be harder for him than others, progress seeming to disappear within the blink of an eye at the smallest of remembrances.

But Muriel also knew he would be okay.

He would be there for his friend, for as long as it took. Every step of the way.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yandere Behavior: Giorno Giovanna

⋆ ˚｡ Yan MBTI: RAMS ⋆｡˚ ⋆

Giorno feels a strong, unwavering sense of a duty to protect you. He’s made numerous sacrifices to make it to his position, some that haunt him to this day. Your presence offers a respite no other can. He wants to offer you a similar feeling, with mixed results. Affection from Giorno might go undetected, as even he’s not sure how to get his feelings across. 

Very interested in getting to know you better. Giorno makes you feel heard, listening to anything you have to say with potent interest. He knows the right questions to ask, and lets you do most of the talking with some input of his own. You’ll feel like you’ve shared lots about yourself, yet know little to nothing about him. It’s not intentional on his part, he’s just a private person. 

He’s in tune with your emotions. While he might not fully understand why you feel certain ways, he can logically figure it out. This can be a point of tension, since you might feel he’s coming off as icy with his words or actions. There’s always an air of professionalism coming from him, even in intimate moments together, his composure can be unsettling. If not for the telling beat of his heart, you might even wonder if he’s human. 

Giorno takes your relationship very seriously, even if you view it in a casual light. He doesn’t get attached easily, so once he does, he’s ride or die about it. He’s hard on himself in the areas where he knows he’s lacking, and desperately wants to improve for your sake. When there isn’t a conflict of interest with his work, he’ll put you first. If Giorno isn’t working, he’s with you. 

Gold Experience Requiem may look frightening to you, appearing and floating around your person unprompted. Giorno’s Stand personifies a needier side of himself that he represses, one that wants your validation. GER might start turning your stuff into your favorite animal, which can get annoying after a while. You’ve woken up to a bed full of cute animals before, which is cute at face value, but you were trying to sleep... 

There isn’t any timeline with Giorno where it doesn’t end up with you being kidnapped. He might try to delay it, allowing you to live your carefree life as long as he can, but any attempts on your life will end this honeymoon phase. It’s an undeniable fact that due to his position he has enemies, and proper precautions need to be taken. Even at the expense of your freedom and happiness. That doesn’t mean he wants you to be miserable, he still does whatever he can to make it up to you. 

He tries to give you space, denying the part of himself that seeks out your presence. Seeing your kidnapper would only hurt you more, he reasons. Knowing that you’re far from harm’s reach should be enough to sate him, yet it isn’t. Giorno wants your companionship, and if you ever extend your hand towards him, he’ll gratefully accept it. 

You’ll find yourself conflicted, torn between two trains of thought. On one hand, what Giorno took away from you is unforgivable. All of the well thought out explanations were just that, theoretical. On the other hand, you can’t deny the consideration he’s put into your predicament. Everything in your living space is to your liking, he encourages you to continue your hobbies from before, and showers you in any gift your heart could dream of. It makes it difficult to figure out what you think about him. 

Giorno is a slow burn yandere. Before you realize the full extent of what’s happening, it’s too late. Depending on your morals, he might try to hide his occupation. Anything that’s in the dark will come to light eventually, and he’s prepared for every conceivable scenario. You won’t ever suspect foul play until it’s too late. He wouldn’t harm you physically, but the isolation starts to break you down. Human contact becomes a luxury that only he can fulfill. 

When Giorno feels you’re not actively attempting escape, you’re free to roam around his estate. There are locks on the windows and doors that lead to freedom, but it’s better than nothing. He’s normally gone in the morning when you wake up, running on so little sleep you wonder how he does it. It’s not uncommon for him to leave for days at a time, but he calls you when that’s the case. Being a Don is a demanding position. 

Since sleep doesn’t come to him easily, he sometimes finds himself observing your peaceful expressions. It’s so different from when you’re awake, how you shrink away in his presence and close up. Adoration for you softens his eyes, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He’ll have GER turn some of your pillows into soft flowers, around your head. 

Life with Giorno is oddly... domestic? He treats you like his lover, but without pushing it. Asking about your day, how your hobbies have been, about the book he saw you reading earlier. He makes it feel so normal, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. There isn’t an ulterior motive to it either, he genuinely just wants to accommodate you. 

Whether you know it or not, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You can use this to your advantage, and he’ll allow you to do so. After taking away so much from you, even if it’s for the greater good, it’s the least he can do. 

Quotes.

“You’ve been on my mind all day, amore.” 

“Oh, this? It’s a little gift I picked up for you on the way here. I hope it suits your tastes.” 

“Is there... anything I can do to cheer you up?” 

[vivienne-faustina]

Present Day, Present Time

Undertale - A few months after the barrier is broken, on Christmas day, Frisk gifts Sans with the Reset button as a sign of trust and goodwill between them, telling him it’s his now: to use, to keep, or to destroy. It’s his power now. It may be the best gift Sans has ever received. Sans finally feels like he can move forward.

And he can feel in his SOUL that he wants to move forward with Frisk.

Word Count: 20,603

@nuvex Surprise! I was your Secret Santa for the Gyftmas event! I’n so, so, SO sorry about the long, loooooong, delay! *hysterical sobbing*

Also, this counts as the season prompt for Fransweek, doesn’t it?

Credits for OCs go to @koiikun for Peter and Charlotte, @semisolidmind for Irene, Edgar and Elizabeth, @undertalepre2re for Daddy Longlegs, @eddieveneziano for Spinerette, and @lostmypotatoes for Ku-Mo

Webber and Julian belong to me.

Even prior to the breaking of the barrier, there were an immense number of things that Frisk wanted to experience alongside her monster friends after reaching the surface.

 Going on picnics in the spring, trips to the beach during the summer, jumping in piles of leaves when autumn arrived, and playing in the snow when winter came, organizing ladies’ nights and sleepovers with the girls, celebrating one another’s birthdays...

 But what she looked forward to most was spending Gyftmas with them.

 As it turned out, the monsters celebrated their own wintertime holiday comparable to the surface world’s Christmas, or Hanukkah, or sometimes Kwanza. She had learned of this during her stay in Snowdin Town, a little village located in the snowy section of the Underground that was decorated as though the inhabitants celebrated Gyftmas every day. It was just September when she had first traversed into the town, but all the preparations for the occasion had already been made, completed by a towering tree adorned with an assortment of ornaments that served as the location’s centerpiece, along with plentiful piles of presents lying underneath bearing tags with the names of all the monsters who lived there.

 She supposed even monsterkind wasn’t immune to the widespread seasonal phenomenon commonly referred to as ‘the Christmas creep’.

 Frisk had fallen victim to it as well. The very instant that Sans, Papyrus, and then Undyne, followed by the rest of her new pals did the jimpity jumpity joodle, the limpity loppity leap (as her fishy friend would say) directly into her heart, her mind instantly began to drift towards thoughts of what she was going to give each of them when the month of December arrived. Though she certainly didn’t have much concerning funds at the time, Frisk was still a generous person by nature – there was little that made her happier than watching the expression of wonder and then delight that crossed the recipient’s face as they unwrapped and unboxed their gift.

 Surface or no surface, Frisk was determined to spend the holiday season with her friends, even if it meant plunging into the depths of the Underground a second time with a fully loaded sack of presents slung over her shoulder to do so. Thankfully, it never came to that – with the assistance of Prince Asriel, the six SOULs of the previous fallen humans, and the added SOULS of every single monster in the Underground, the barrier was finally broken for good, so she and everyone else could reach the surface and get to celebrate their first Gyftmas above ground.

 Yes, even Flowey – as much as he denied it, she knew that much of Asriel was still hiding behind the sour personality of that foul flower.

 She wasn’t about to let one rotten apple hinder her or himself from enjoying a slice of the warm apple pie that was the wholesome found-family Gyftmas gathering she was doing her best to serve everyone.

 Sans hadn’t exactly been thrilled with the idea of him partaking in the festivities, even though Frisk had thought that he shouldn’t even remember who Flowey was. She supposed that the negative impressions Flowey left on him in the RESETs of the past, prior to her gaining the power to turn back time from her floral friend, had somehow left a permanent imprint on the skeleton; similar to how Toriel inexplicably recalled that she preferred cinnamon over butterscotch, along with a plethora of other phantom memories the monsters she closely interacted with experienced throughout the courses of her subterranean adventure.

 Flowey had been extremely reluctant to leave his previous spot in the empty Underground. He had stayed behind by choice, after all. However, the frequent offers she made during her continuous visits eventually wore him down, and he said he would go with her under one stipulation – that his true identity remained a secret between the two of them. She agreed to his terms, and Flowey allowed her to take him to the surface to join the rest of her companions – he even willingly climbed into the flowerpot she bought and brought just for him!

 Frisk and Toriel shared dual custody of him - the kind goat lady apparently saw the good inside him that he so desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist, and decided to welcome him into her home whenever he wished to visit. Flowey unexpectedly took her up on the invitation, showing minimal resistance to the idea before accepting. Perhaps he missed his mother more than he initially thought.

 This is what Frisk believed, and not without good reason. One Sunday afternoon just a few weeks ago, the queen of monsters invited the two over for tea and cookies. Everything had been relatively peaceful, nothing out of the ordinary – all until Toriel had wordlessly placed another one of the sweets on Flowey’s plate, unprompted.

 The words ‘Thank you, mama’ had instinctively escaped his mouth before he could stop them. Toriel was touched at hearing that, no matter how accidental it may have been, feeling as though the usually bad-tempered little flower had finally warmed up to her.

 But for him, it was excruciatingly painful. He was dead silent for the rest of the time spent in her company and swiftly requested to go home with Frisk once they finished their snacks. The sweet goat lady saw nothing wrong with his behavior, simply assuming that his little slip of the tongue had embarrassed him.

 In actuality, the very instant Frisk stepped into her own home and locked the door behind them, Flowey had burst into a hysterical fit of tears, sobbing as he whispered ‘mama’ under his breath, over and over again before crying out, ‘I miss my mama!’.

 After he had calmed down considerably, Frisk never once leaving his side the whole while, he once again asserted that he wasn’t going to tell Toriel or Asgore the truth. However, Flowey then said afterwards that, perhaps one day, he may. Just not now. He wasn’t ready yet, and he doubted they were either.

 Frisk had been nothing but supportive, assuring Flowey that it was fine for him to take as long as he needed in sorting out his feelings towards the matter, to which he again stated as he so often had in the past that he had no feelings left anymore. That was a lie. A lie that the both of them obviously knew wasn’t true.

 Someone with no emotions inside them wouldn’t show visible delight when biting into homemade cookies and pie, nor would they shriek with blatant terror when startled by a cheap jumpscare tactic in a poorly made horror flick during movie night every other Friday, or display signs of what could only be described as intense jealousy when their best and only friend is constantly being ‘stolen away’, from their perspective, by a lazy, ketchup-chugging, pun-spewing bag of bones.

 Someone with nothing left to feel wouldn’t wail for his mother during a rare moment of vulnerability.

 Frisk wholeheartedly enjoyed each and every second she spent in Flowey’s presence, much to the actually rather understandable perplexity of some of her other friends. She could state countless reasons as to why she would feel this way, but one of them was; hearing the sound of his voice made this big house of hers feel less empty.

 Several weeks after gaining the official position of ambassador of monsterkind, Frisk had woken up to the unexpected surprise of receiving an expensive estate in a basically brand-new neighborhood. It was undoubtedly worth thousands, maybe even millions, and just staring at it made her feel as though she were glimpsing into a luxurious world she didn’t and never would belong in. She wanted to gently decline the deed, feeling as though she did nothing to deserve it, but as if anticipating this sort of response, the agent who escorted her to the place informed her that the fully-furnished house and the plot of land it stood on was meant to be a gift; purchased with the gold of not only the king and queen, but the funds of each and every single freed monster. They had unanimously come to the agreement to band together in a collective effort to provide her a better home than the one she had lived in prior.

 To turn down such a thoughtful gesture after so much preparation had gone into even making it possible, such a thing would have been incomparably rude to do.

 A few months later, and Frisk was still unsure of how they learned of her whereabouts, a dingy old apartment building several towns over located directly in the middle of an unsafe precinct where robberies and other crimes were regularly reported. But someone had discovered her secret, despite her dedicated efforts at dodging their numerous questions concerning the subject.

 There had been a few occasions back then where, when returning from one of her hangouts with her monster friends, Frisk felt a similar sensation to being followed. She never did catch a glance at her pursuer during those times, but she supposed it didn’t really matter – not once did she ever feel as though she were in any danger when sensing the presence of this other person. Quite the opposite, in fact, as utterly insane as she knew it may have sounded.

 Frisk chose not to mention the fact that she may or may not have been dealing with a mysterious stalker to her friends, since she had already worried them enough when they found out where she lived. What followed came countless offers for her to stay the night or even a few days in one of their residences, to which she always attempted to decline, not wanting to impose on her friends. But some of them, like Undyne, Toriel, Muffet, and unpredictably Sans, of all monsters, would not take ‘no’ for an answer. All of them felt as though they could finally put their fears to rest when she stepped out of that building that looked as though it were falling apart at the seams for the last time, and into her safe and cozy new home they had so lovingly furnished for the first.

 Sans had surprisingly been the one to accompany her then, assisting her in gathering up what little belongings she owned to transport them to the house awaiting her. The reason why it had shocked her so much at the time was, the smiley skeleton was well renown as having a laid-back, lax nature; or as Undyne, his brother, and several regulars at Grillby’s would word it – lazy.

 But that day, something about the skeleton she thought she knew was deadly serious. His expression seemed to frequently bounce between anticipation and dread, happily helping her with shoving clothes and other accessories into suitcases while also glancing around the area every few minutes with a chilling glare, as if daring some unseen enemy to reveal themselves to him. Even he had breathed a sigh of relief that day, once the task was done and over with.

 And not long after that, Sans and Papyrus had managed to acquire an abode of their own as well – directly next to hers.

 She had thought that with a vast new world to explore, all the monsters she had met and come to know would have eventually scattered across the globe as soon as the opportunity arose. And some of them did, but not any of her closest friends she had made on her adventure - they had decided to take up residence in this town, not ten miles away from the mountain they were imprisoned within. And even the ones that went elsewhere would eventually wander back on occasion, if only to say ‘hello’.

 It didn’t make much sense to her, but when Frisk finally summoned the nerve to ask, all of them gave her the exact same answer,

 “We just wanted to be close to you.”

 And this claim of theirs must have been true, because when the time came for her to send out the Gyftmas party invitations, every single monster responded with a guarantee in some manner or another that they would be there.

 But could she actually manage to squeeze the entirety of the monster population and then some under one roof, specifically hers?

 Frisk was about to find out.

 Some of them jokingly warned her when they discovered just how long the guest list was supposed to be that she was definitely going to regret this, that a celebration this grand scale was bound to bring the house down in the most literal definition imaginable (thanks, Sans). She held no doubts that the party was going to be chaotic, but she sincerely believed that what was to come would be a chaos of the beautiful sort.

 This being proven to be correct was all that she really wanted for Gyftmas.

 Even after telling them this, they were still going well out of their way to get her some sort of present for the festivity. Frisk believed the lavish house was enough to compensate for every single Gyftmas, birthday, and any other holiday that would come to pass for the remainder of her life, but no, the monsters demonstrated they could be just as determined as she was when it came to expressing their gratitude towards her for everything the human girl had done for them, in and out of the Underground.

 Apparently, Undyne and Mettaton were even going so far as making some sort of competition out of who could give Frisk the best gift, and it was also apparently growing more and more intense between them each day as the date of the party approached. She hoped they didn’t expect her to play the role of judge in this silly contest of theirs, because she couldn’t possibly do that, ever – Frisk was certain that she would love both their gifts with equal enthusiasm. She additionally hoped they hadn’t gone overboard with the holiday shopping in their quest of earning her approval, because the two were well known to be mercilessly competitive and had a history of overspending according to their own friends and relatives.

 Mettaton may be able to flaunt and throw around all the wealth that came from being a sensational star whenever he pleases, but that still doesn’t mean that he should, and Frisk felt that Undyne really needed to start investing her earnings in an emergency fund of some sort, because she’s already almost burned her house to a crisp while cooking a grand total of eight times since finding a place to live on the surface.

 She’s going to need that money when the time eventually comes that Undyne does reduce it down to nothing more than smoking splinters and the very foundation it stands upon in one gigantic fiery explosion, and it was becoming more and more clear to Frisk that the fish woman’s house regularly being engulfed in flames was just one of those inevitable aspects of life that refused to change, in spite of her attempts...

 That’s why after the second time it happened, Frisk jumped for getting the local and friendly fire department’s number on speed dial on both their phones. Undyne and the entire force were practically on a first name basis with each other at this point.

 But Undyne refrained from ever cooking at other people’s houses, even when it was requested of her by some incredibly brave or very foolish SOUL with nothing to lose; she only did so at her own. That’s probably what upset Frisk the most – she was actively aware that her ventures in the culinary world were deadly in dual senses, and yet that didn’t seem to stop her in the slightest when it came to pursuing her passion. Frisk supposed there was something admirable to be found in that, somewhere...

 And while it appeared that Undyne’s skills in the kitchen were getting worse and worse, Papyrus’s were only getting better, even without any comparison needed.

 He improved so much, in fact, that Frisk asked him if he would like to be one of the head chefs in providing catering for her guests at the upcoming party, alongside Grillby, Muffet, and Toriel. He gratefully accepted the position with tears flowing from his sockets like geysers, picking her up in one swift motion and swinging her around and around until it nearly made her stomach turn. He promised her that this would be the best Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had, to which she reminded him that this would be the first Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had. If anything, this only spurred Papyrus to put even more passion into his own culinary studies, so his cuisines would be guaranteed to leave a good impression on her human taste buds.

 Gyftmas, Christmas – though the two holidays were relatively the same in spirit, what Frisk had told him was not lacking in truth...

 Even long before the date of their wintertime gathering, there was still plenty to do. She began her search for gifts almost as soon as the barrier had been broken, but the preparations for the gradually approaching party had commenced as briskly as the day after Halloween. Of course, there was also Thanksgiving to think about then; they came together at that time as well, at Toriel’s house, but the number of those attending had been much smaller than the total count that was to be present at Frisk’s party, since many monsters had chosen to celebrate the occasion with their respective families.

 That was why the sheer amount of replies that she received in respondence to the invitations astounded her as much as it did.

 But when the 25th finally came, Frisk couldn’t have been more pleased by the nothing short of massive turnout.

 The guests began arriving as early as seven in the morning. The event didn’t even officially start until nine, but some of them had showed up early because they wanted an opportunity to talk with their beloved ambassador a bit before the celebration became too crowded and hectic to anymore.

 She had woken up a few minutes after six that morning for some last-minute arrangements when Frisk spotted a familiar round skeletal face in the window of the house immediately across from her own. Hers and Sans’s bedrooms faced one another, the space between them not ten feet apart, and the two had carried out entire conversations from their respective windowsills before – fairly often, in truth.

 Such a conversation occurred on the dawn of that special snowy morning, surprisingly. Frisk would have been willing to bet that she wouldn’t be seeing him around until after the start of the party a few hours later.

 He grinned and tapped on the surface of the frosted and fogged over glass in swift succession with a single phalange before opening his window, silently urging her to do the same with her own. She did so, a gust of cool wintery air flowing into the room, and spoke the first thing that came to mind.

 “You’re up unexpectedly early today.”

 “paps got me up and out of bed as soon as he realized the hours were in the a.m. and the date had changed.” Sans yawned, just barely managing to cover his mouth, then added, “and that was almost a few minutes after midnight, but about a whole gallon of warm milk later, and i got him to go back to sleep. honestly, that was probably the real gyftmas miracle – as beat as paps was, he denied it to the bitter end and tried to fight off the sleepies to his last ‘nyeh’.”

 “That definitely sounds like something he would do.” The mental image of Papyrus suddenly yanking the shorter skeleton off his mattress and dragging Sans behind him down the stairs to the living room in the middle of the night was worth a chuckle, as exhausted as she knew Sans must be right now. “Was he trying to catch a peep at ‘Santa’ in action? Or should I say, ‘Sansta’?”

 “nah. he hasn’t tried to capture santa since we were pretty much babybones.” He gave a sleepy chuckle.

 “...Capture? ...Santa?” She uttered inquisitively with an arched eyebrow, but he didn’t provide her with any more details on that bizarre little response.

 “gyftmas eve is the one night a year that paps makes an honest effort to go to bed early and get some real sleep, ‘cause he’s worried that santa will pass our house up if he doesn’t. but his excitement, his insomnia, and the anxiety over what he thinks will happen if he isn’t sleeping ironically keeps him awake. we go through this every year. i already mentioned the milk, but it took a whole pile and a few hours of bedtime stories to knock him out this one, though.”

 “You’re probably already aware of this, Sans, but... you look really tired.” The dark circles under his sockets were a few shades darker, more prominent than usual, and as she said this, another long, deep yawn escaped his gaping maw. “You know, you could go back to bed and get some sleep yourself and just show up a while later, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t be disappointed with you if you decided to do that, really.”

 “nah, nah. don’t worry about it. i’ll be fine, just fine, kid. the both of us ‘ll be there when we’re supposed to. actually, expect to see us at least half an hour earlier, since you know how paps likes to show up anywhere he goes fashionably ahead of time. my bro’s such a trendsetter... he’s light years ahead of the rest of us.” He waved off her concerns with a grin that appeared far happier and less weary than it probably should, but was unexpectedly followed by a pensive frown.

 Sans grew silent and remained so for several passing moments; so silent that it began to make Frisk feel uncomfortable.

 He always made a point of looking at the person he was speaking to, but he wasn’t doing that now. His attention wasn’t on her anymore – it was on practically everything but her, and that worrying little frown on his face only heightened the sense of concern that was washing over Frisk in waves after seeing it.

 “...Sans? Is something wrong...?” She asked, a twinge of distress discernible in her quiet tone of voice.

 She had to repeat herself twice before he would answer her.

 “it’s just... about the party...” His front teeth gnawed on the bottom of his mouth, seeming only more perturbed as the seconds slowly passed by before another grin, wide and gleeful, almost to the extent of being manic, broke across his skull just as suddenly as the grimace had.

 “i was just thinking about how loooong the drive’s gonna be to get there... it’ll be so long, i might actually get a full nine hours sleep on the way there.” He accomplished getting through the first two sentences with only a few snorts interspersed into his speech, but he was really struggling not to laugh through the second half - and by the tail end of the third sentence, he was failing miserably. “i mean, i think you have the right to live wherever it is you want, but why’d you have to go and move so far off, frisk? do you not want to see your ‘ol pal sansy as often anymore, is that it?”

 “Sans, our houses are literally less than ten feet apart.” She giggled uncontrollably; his laughter was potently contagious.

 “but it feels so far away in my SOUL!” He cried out dramatically, clutching the front of his shirt directly at the area of his chest as he fell to the carpet, on his knees.

 “We’re talking to each other face to face from our windows! How much closer do you want us to be?!”

 “until it’s impossible for us to get any closer.” He replied without a beat, his laughter dying down to a nervous chuckle as a soft blue blush slowly spread across his face.

 “Wh-What...?” She stuttered dumbly.

 “what?” He parroted immediately after; so immediate that Frisk was almost certain that she must have misheard or imagined what had preceded.

 “...Sans, you goob. You really fooled me into thinking there was something horribly wrong! What you just did wasn’t in the Gyftmas spirit, Sans!”

 “ok, ok, yeah, now that i think about it, that really was kinda mean of me.” He scratched the back of his skull with an awkward sheepish smile, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself. “...but it still made you laugh, though.”

 “...Okay, I will admit that it was actually pretty funny... Especially that whole thing you do where you grossly exaggerate how far apart our houses are, despite us being next-door neighbors and all...” Frisk then made the valiant effort to appear stern in front of him. “But anymore jokes like that one today, and you’ll leave me with no choice but to take away your present privileges.”

 “you... you got me something?” His droopy sockets widened, and the white spheres that served as his pupils enlarged to the extent that they almost looked like twin moons, his reaction all but suggesting that he was truly taken aback by the thought.

 “Of course I did. Undyne may be my bestie, but you’re my bestest buddy.” She stated sincerely, but then smirked, a wicked idea manifesting without any warning. “Prepare yourself, because it’s on it’s way!”

 “you didn’t have to get me anything, frisk...” That’s what he said, but he wasn’t exactly doing an excellent job at hiding his inner giddiness – it almost made her feel bad for what she was about to do. “...wait? you’re giving it to me now?”

 “Yep! Whether you choose to close your eyes or not is up to you.”

 “...‘kay. i’ll keep ‘em closed, since i think that’s what you want me to do. sansy ‘ll play along with the surprise, kiddo.” His sockets shut, but not a second later he cracked one open. “...you better not be about to throw a snowball at my face though, ‘cause that’s a declaration of war where i come from.”

 “It’s not a snowball, so don’t worry.”

 And it really wasn’t a snowball. But he was about to get a face full of something.

 Frisk walked over to her nightstand to grab Sans’s present, unwrapped. She had meant to wrap it along with the rest of his gift, but this one had become misplaced, and thus it escaped getting packaged at the time. It was something small, in both size and value, but she was told by Toriel that Sans would appreciate it nonetheless.

 It was time to test if that claim was true.

 She stood in front of the window, taking in the sight of Sans standing there, his sockets closed and looking as though he were mere seconds away from actually falling asleep in that very spot while standing up. He was definitely nodding off though – it was time for a little wakeup call!

 “Here it comes!” She yelled happily, hurling the object she held in her hand with all her might out the window; it sailed through the chilly air and the snow, crossing the few feet’s distance between them and towards him at top speed.

 Her sudden shout caused his sockets to snap open, just at the exact right moment for whatever it was she had thrown to pelt him directly in the face.

 “buh?!” He nearly spluttered in surprise.

 It took a few more moments, as he was still somewhat paralyzed from the shock of it all, but as soon as he regained his bearings, Sans peeled off the offending object covering his eyes; it had felt soft when it collided with his skull, and he discovered that what struck him was in fact a pair of socks.

 But not just any pair of socks. No, this particular pair was colored a dark gray, and that itself wasn’t too special, but on them he found images of little cheeseburgers scattered across the fabric. Something red was also oozing out from underneath the top buns of the patties, which was obviously meant to be ketchup. They looked just as though Grillby had decided to design clothing themed around his restaurant’s menu on the side, and Sans was loving it.

 “these... these are amazing!”

 Frisk knew that he would like them, but she never once thought that Sans, or anyone for that matter, would be so overjoyed to receive a pair of socks as a gift, especially as a Gyftmas present.

 He was so pleased with them that he began kicking off his slippers posthaste and sat down on his bedroom floor to put them on. It was while he was doing this that Frisk took the opportunity to actually look at him, specifically his body, and even more specifically, his feet.

 They... didn’t look like an actual skeleton’s feet. An actual skeleton as in a human skeleton, that is; which was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary at all for him, she had learned far prior to this point, really. She had been around him and Papyrus for so long now that she didn’t really question what they could do or shouldn’t be able to do as skeletons, but still, these aspects were no less jarring to her when she thought about it for longer than a few seconds.

 His feet looked less skeletal, as contrary as that was, and more like a person’s with all the skin and the meat underneath still attached. The only thing even remotely skeletal about them was the fact that they were made out of bone. She wondered if his hands were also similar in shape. They were always out of sight, since he kept them covered with gloves or mittens or had them shoved in the pockets of his shorts or hoodie, so Frisk had never seen them before.

 He must have caught her in the act of staring, because a few more moments of ogling later and she noticed he was grinning slyly in her direction.

 “getting enough of an eyeful over there?” Sans asked with a wiggle of his eyebone(?), striking what one could consider to be a provocative pose as he slowly pulled the sock up and over his heel, never breaking eye contact with her as he did so.

 “Oh, hush.” Her cheeks were turning a deep, flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the frigid air surrounding and flooding in through the wide-open window.

 “...sweet mother of asgore!” Sans all of a sudden wheezed, startling her before he replied, nearly sobbing in his laughter as he pointed to his leg, “they’re kneesocks!”

 “Kneesocks?!”

 “you didn’t know?!”

 “No!” Frisk insisted, then added embarrassedly, “...I guess I was so absorbed in the print that I didn’t pay attention to what kind they were when I bought them. I’m sorry.”

 “don’t apologize – these are great.” Sans said as he eagerly tugged the other one up the length of his leg up to his patella.

 “Sans the skeleton from Snowdin, you aren’t seriously going to wear those, are you?” She inquired with blatant disbelief evident in her expression and tone.

 “you bet your burger i am. i’m gonna wear them at the party, and i’m patella-ing everyone that’ll listen where i got ‘em from.”

 “Sans, why...?” She half-groaned, half-giggled to herself.

 They shared a few more bad laughs together before a knock at the door interrupted them.

 “sounds like the early birds are already dropping in.” Sans remarked as he leaned out the window, peering down below to see a few monsters waiting at Frisk’s front door. “paps is gonna be disappointed that he wasn’t the first to show up.”

 “Tell him he’ll always come first place in my heart.” Frisk chuckled, already imagining the somewhat pouty expression on the taller skeleton’s face when he saw the other guests had beaten him to the Gyftmas punch, quite literally.

 “heh, he’ll appreciate that. hey, just wanted to let you know, he an’ i got most of the cooking done last night before bed, and he’s finishing up the final touches on his part of the spread right now. it’ll be more than a bit of a pain in the tailbone to carry it all in a few dishes per trip, so...” He lifted a single phalange, the tip of it glowing a bright blue along with his left eye. “...i might have to put in some actual effort to pull this off.”

 “Ohhh...! Sans is busting out the scary cyan magic eye!” She gasped, clapping her hands with delight. “And all for me and the sake of the party! I’m actually gonna see you use some magic!”

 “you act like it’s such a big deal...” He scratched the back of his skull again, turning to the side so hopefully she wouldn’t notice the blush matching the color of his magic blooming in his cheeks.

 Another knock interrupted their talk, much louder and more persistent than prior.

 “...I better go answer that.”

 “‘kay. see ya in a bit, kiddo.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Just a few hours later, and the party had already gone into full swing. The house was packed with guests at every turn, and it would only grow fuller as the day went on. Frisk fully expected the celebration to continue well into the late hours of the night, and she was more than alright with this.

 She had received plenty of promises from certain higher profile monsters that they would be attending; the presence of Toriel and Asgore hadn’t surprised her in the slightest, despite their busy schedules that didn’t let up even during the holidays. But Mettaton? Frisk was quite honestly astonished when she saw the modelesque robot strut through the front door and directly into her living room wearing a long faux-fur coat and high-heeled snow boots, even though he shouldn’t be able to feel the frigid temperatures outside.

 “Mettaton?!” She openly expressed her shock.

 “The one and only.” He lowered his sunglasses, which were entirely inappropriate for this sort of snowy weather, and winked.

 “I... I didn’t think you would make it.”

 “I wouldn’t miss your little soirée for the world, darling!” He threw up his arms to sweep her into an unprecedented embrace. “Although... it was exceedingly difficult. It’s fortunate that you sent out the invitations in advance as you did, otherwise my fabulous self being present today would have been nothing short of impossible. Being a surface world star is glamorous and all, but... some of the producers I work with really do know how to get my gears grinding!”

 “Well, I really am happy to see you here in person, Mettaton, and not on the television as expected.” She eagerly returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around his cold metallic body. “I know that I’m yours and everybody else’s ambassador, but I still can’t even begin to imagine how taxing your career can be sometimes. But remember that today is all about relaxing and spending time with the ones you love. Get some well-deserved rest for the moment and fill the Mettaton-shaped hole in our Mettaton-shaped hearts.”

 “That’s right... That’s exactly what I came here today to do. To catch up with everyone else and hear what’s happening in their own lives, while mine’s been spent under the spotlight so much lately. I can’t afford to make the same mistake as I did last time...” His head whipped around the room as if searching for something, or rather someone. “Blooky? Will Blooky be arriving soon? Are they even coming?!”

 “Don’t get your circuits in a twist just yet. Blooky’s already here – go look over in the corner of the other living room, where the music player is. I asked them to DJ for me today with the holiday compositions they compiled just for the occasion.”

 Mettaton paused in his dramatics to listen, recognizing with apparent fondness in his features the soft tune that floated through the air well – ‘Ghouliday’, one of the first songs the cousins had wrote together when the two simultaneously became interested in music several years ago.

 “That song of ours... it feels just like home...” He then took off in a sprint into the next room over, his arms waving around almost like limp noodles in a strong wind as he charged towards the ghost with the express purpose of defying all logic and laws of physics to wrap his beloved cousin in a hug. “BLOOKY! I missed you sooooo MUH-HUH-UUUUCH!!!”

 “Waitwaitwaitwait!” She heard Napstablook utter as urgently as their soft voice would allow. “I’m holding punch!”

 There was the sound of a crash, several people screaming and glass breaking, followed by a short beat before Mettaton timidly and uncharacteristically squeaked,

 “...I’ll clean that up!”

 So the party was going great.

 The pile of presents underneath the tree was growing bigger and bigger with each additional guest that attended the Gyftmas gathering. A grand assortment of names were jotted down on the tags, but Frisk probably shouldn’t have been as taken aback as she was to find that a good number of them were addressed to her.

 A scaly hand suddenly clapping over her shoulder brought the girl out of her thoughts and caused her to shriek in alarm.

 “WHOA, hey!” Undyne retracted her hand as if she had been burnt, holding both of them up in a defensive stance. “Didn’t mean to scare ya like that, Frisk. ...You were looking a little spaced out there, so I thought I’d check up on ya.”

 “Sorry for reacting like that. I was just thinking to myself... Looking at all these presents here, and so many of them for me, it made me realize how many friends I have now.”

 “I still can’t believe you’re trying to fit basically the entire Underground under one roof... and YOUR roof! You had to of known that’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And to go ahead and do it anyway despite that, well, that takes some real guts, punk!”

 “Mettaton said that he was going to clean up the mess he made, and I believe him.”

 “Wait, what?” She blinked before letting out a cackle. “You mean the ol’ tin can’s already broke something?! I take it back – you’re either fearless, or just plain NUTS for even trying to pull this off! But hey, no matter how it goes, this is gonna be something for us all to remember and laugh about later!”

 Her wide toothy grin then turned into a deep frown.

 “...Seeing everybody here, with smiles on their faces, just happy to be alive and in each other’s company; it makes me feel kinda bad.”

 “Why?” Frisk inquired, incredulous. “Why would what’s supposed to be the most wonderful day of the year make you feel that way? I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, but you seemed pretty fired up about today before...”

 “Well, I feel guilty.” Undyne averted her gaze and tugged at her scarf absentmindedly. “Back when I first met you, I hated you and every other human; because I thought you hated us. And then, well, you and I, we ended up becoming besties! But... it’s moments like these, where we’re all together just having a good time here on the surface with you that makes me remember... what a horrible mistake I almost made.”

 “Undyne, it’s all behind us.” Frisk reassured her, reaching up to place her own hand over her towering fishy friend’s shoulder with some struggling before settling on simply patting the sleeve of her arm. “You shouldn’t be thinking about that anymore – especially not today, of all days.”

 “Yeah, you keep saying that, but... sometimes I still feel pretty lousy about it.” She wrapped Frisk into a tight, almost suffocating one-armed hug accompanied by an aggressive noogie. “I couldn’t have been more wrong then! I thought you were gonna destroy us all, and that I needed to protect everybody from you. But the truth was, what I needed to be doing was protecting YOU! You really are just like Papyrus sometimes - too darn NICE for your own good!”

 “Oww! I appreciate the sentiments, but please don’t noogie the human!”

 “See? That sounds JUST LIKE something he would say!”

 “That’s because he did say it before. You know, that one time over the phone?”

 “Oh yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Undyne ceased her relentless grinding of the knuckles against Frisk’s head for the moment to ponder and reminisce. “Ya know, sometimes that whole adventure you had Underground with us feels like it happened ages ago, and other times like it was just last week. Time is funny like that. ...Oh man. I’m starting to sound just like that old coot Gerson!”

 “Stay with us, Undyne! You can’t go slipping away from us just yet!” Frisk teased, laughing at her mortified expression. “You’re still too young for the rocking chair and recollecting of yesteryears!”

 “You’re right! I’ve gotta stop blathering on and on about what happened yesterday and focus on what’s happening TODAY! Make some new memories, YEAH!” A few nearby monsters turned her way, but otherwise her exclamation didn’t receive too much fanfare. “Hey, is Alphys here yet? I want her to open up my Gyftmas present to her ASAP!”

 “No, she hasn’t gotten here just yet, but she did text me a few minutes ago saying she was on her way.” Undyne shuffled and stomped in place impatiently at this. “Oh, oh! You want to know what I got her?”

 “Uh, yeah!” She enthusiastically exclaimed. “...Does it have anything to do with Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, though?”

 “Actually, it does!”

 “Aw, PLEASE don’t tell me we ended up getting her the exact same thing!”

 “What did you get her, Undyne?” Frisk inquired, confident that her friend’s assumption was incorrect, but a sliver of nervousness was still present in her question.

 “Well, you know how most of the anime out there is usually based off of those Japanese books with all the pictures in them that you gotta read backwards to understand anything that’s going on? Uh, I think they’re called mangoes? Manhwas? Maybe it was mandalas? No, wait, that still doesn’t sound right...” Before Frisk could correct her, she had already moved on. “Well anyway, she’s got some DVDs of the anime, but none of the books. So I did a lot of scouting on your human internet and found the whole set. But finding all of them together isn’t what took me so long, no – this set is special. They’re all signed. By the AUTHOR!”

 “Alphys is gonna flip.” The reptilian monster was usually shy and soft-spoken in nature, but when talking about something she loved, Alphys could become momentarily unrestrained and speak freely about her hobbies and passions.

 “That’s EXACTLY what I’m hoping she’ll do! I don’t even know how many hours I spent and how many online shopping websites I had to search through, and let’s not even get into how much money I had to shell out for the set after I FINALLY found it - but seeing her nerd out over something like that, it’ll all be SO worth it. I’d do it again five times and a bunch more if I got that kind of adorable reaction each time!”

 “That’s so cute, it makes my heart hurt!”

 “So, uh, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, Frisk, but... if we really DID get the same thing for her, mine’s GOTTA be the superior of the two. ...There’s no way we both got her a signed set of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie mangolios, did we?”

 “No, fortunately we didn’t get her the same thing.” It was subtle, but the tension in Undyne’s expression eased at that. “Those DVDs of hers you mentioned? Well, I watched the series myself several years ago, and the ones she has aren’t complete. They’re from that old company that went out of business that used to hold the license; and not only did they do a horrendous job with the dubbing, but the episodes are out of order, some of them are even missing, and then the ones that weren’t cut were edited so badly that it’s almost painful to watch.”

 “Really? I watched some of the episodes with Alphys before, and at the time I didn’t really notice anything too weird about ‘em. But now that you’ve told me all this stuff, I gotta say, there’s actually a whole lot of plotholes and a bunch of other things that didn’t make much to any sense in the story.”

 “So this right here...” Frisk plucked a present from the ever-expanding pile, a sparkly tag with the name ‘Alphys’ written in pen stuck to the paper, and waved it around with a smile. “...Is the complete set. All fifty-two uncut episodes in their correct airing order on eight disks, with the additional viewing choice of a brand-new English dub or the original Japanese voice acting with subtitles.”

 “Dang, I just realized... Alphys is gonna be so busy with this stuff we got her, she probably won’t have any time to hang out with either of us anymore!”

 “Well, I can’t say anything about the books, but maybe we could make the viewing of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie a thing at Ladies’ Night from here on out?” Frisk suggested, believing that the rest of the girls might enjoy it; especially since they could actually follow the plot along without much trouble when watching this edition of the series.

 But Undyne didn’t respond to her suggestion. No, the redhead was peering at something behind her, just over Frisk’s shoulder, with a slack-jawed expression. But before Frisk could even begin to ask her what was wrong, a shrill squeal erupted far too close to her ear, forcing her to turn around.

 “Alphys!” Frisk shrieked herself, now knowing exactly why Undyne had seemed so distraught. “How much did you-” It was too late, she realized. “You... you heard everything, didn’t you?”

 “So much for surprises...” Undyne grumbled sourly, crossing her arms.

 However, Undyne’s prickly mood quickly faded when Alphys launched herself at her, flinging her arms around her neck and squeezing with all the appreciation she could convey as she practically screamed her gratitude towards them both.

 “ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOUTHANKYOU...!!!!!” Alphys screeched with delight, her grip around Undyne’s neck becoming tighter and tighter to the point that even one of the strongest monsters in the Underground was having difficulty breathing.

 “Alphie, you’re CHOKING me...!”

 “Oh... OH! Sorry! I’m SO sorry!” She immediately detached herself from the fish lady, somewhat mortified but still giddy, and gave her a chance to regain her breath. “I just... I got so excited that I... I just couldn’t contain myself anymore!”

 “Well, you’re gonna have to contain yourself for a while longer, now!” Undyne huffed, a look of faux scorn gracing her face. “Instead of doing the honorable thing and walking away when you had the chance to, you stood RIGHT THERE and heard everything that you weren’t supposed to; and once again, instead of WALKING AWAY and pretending you didn’t hear ANYTHING, you LET US KNOW you were there by calling attention to yourself with all your adorable squeaking and squealing!”

 “I... I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise...”

 “...I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just... I really wanted to WOW you, Alphie. And I’m sure Frisk here did too, what with how much she was hyping up your present from her.” Undyne then pointed a clawed finger at her. “HOWEVER, because the identity of your gifts have been revealed to you too early, you have to WAIT to open them – ONE HOUR for EVERY MINUTE that you spent standing there listening to us!”

 “I stood here for about five minutes...” Alphys decided it was best to be honest with her, to avoid disappointing Undyne any further than she already had.

 “Then you can open them at three.” She huffed in response, then peered down at Frisk, who was giving her a fixed stare accompanied by a tiny frown. “Don’t you give me that look! That’s what my mama made me do whenever I snooped around to see what I was getting for Gyftmas before I was supposed to! Heck, sometimes I screwed up with her so bad that I had to wait for DAYS after Gyftmas had passed! Don’t ask me how she always knew I snuck some peeks of the stash before she could get ‘em all wrapped - moms are just really good at finding out about that kind of stuff.”

 “Aww...” Alphys pouted in a manner not unlike an upset child, and both Undyne and Frisk had to admit – seeing her like that really was precious.

 “It’s just a few hours, Alphie.” Undyne playfully rolled her one good eye and began shoving her good-naturedly towards a group of guests that had gathered around the television. “Let’s go mingle some and then you’ll see the time will pass by before you even know it!”

 Undyne hauled Alphys off in such a rush that Frisk had missed her opportunity to give the finned monster her own gift – she watched the couple for a moment, wondering if she should drop in on their ensuing chatter to deliver it, but it seemed they were having so much fun that she’d hate to interrupt. She supposed that Undyne could open hers later, alongside Alphys’s.

 Shopping for Undyne had been a bit of a stumper, compared to some of the other monsters that she knew. Frisk’s first choice had been a replica sword, but then she recalled their frequent hangouts at her place and remembered that she had plenty of those – the human girl thought for some time that they had burned up in the fire, but Frisk learned shortly after visiting her new home on the surface that she braved the seemingly eternal flames which still engulfed her old house in the Underground and had gone back inside to rescue them. And aside from a few scuff marks, they were essentially in pristine shape.

 Even though she was certain that her anime-obsessed friend would be more than thrilled to receive yet another oversized duplicate sword to add to her collection, Frisk felt that her Gyftmas present needed to be a bit more special. She wracked her brain for days on end, reviewing everything she knew about the powerful fish woman and former captain of the Royal Guard.

 So, after much deliberation, Frisk decided that instead of giving her yet another replica for her to put on display...

 She would get her a real one.

 The only person she had spoken to concerning this idea was Sans (because Papyrus couldn’t keep a secret even for the sake of his own life, and Alphys couldn’t exactly be trusted with this top-secret information either because she became increasingly loose-lipped when excited to a certain extent), who unhesitantly informed her that while Undyne would be ecstatic, going through with it would be a grave mistake on her part.

 Undyne was zealous, yes, and incredibly hot-blooded for a fish lady, but Frisk told him that she trusted her to be responsible with the bladed weapon.

 “a move which will henceforth be known as ‘mistake number two’.” He had rung in with his opinion then.

 But she honestly couldn’t think of anything else that would impress her as much as a genuine steel sword, so at the time Frisk had more or less told Sans to stuff it. She was hoping with all her might that Undyne would prove him wrong – otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from the smug skeleton.

 Frisk was aware that someone who had the ability to summon spears made of magic from thin air would probably possess no real need for a sword, but the practicality of the present wasn’t really all that important in the first place – the only thing that truly mattered in the end was whether Undyne was happy or not with her gift.

 And speaking of Sans, she quite literally bumped into him on her way to the kitchen. It seemed he just then finished putting all the dishes he and Papyrus prepared in their proper places on the various tables she had set up around the living room, because the faint glow of his magic was still visible in his left eye and she caught sight of a fading wisp of blue from his fingertips.

 “‘ey, kiddo. where’s the fire at?” His hands reached out to steady her, their unexpected impact nearly knocking Frisk off her feet.

 “It’s in the kitchen – I thought I’d check up on Grillby. He said there were still a few things left that he needed to involving some additions to the spread and asked to borrow mine so he could finish the job.”

 “paps is really letting this new position as a ‘head chef’ get to his, uh, head.” He sighed, but it was an unmistakably satisfied one. “don’t get me wrong – i couldn’t be happier that he’s done nothing but improve since we’ve been on the surface; tickled to the bone even... but i gotta admit, paps can be kind of a bossy boots when he’s all absorbed in his cooking. he has this tendency to hover over anybody else with him when in the kitchen, and feels the need to input some well-meaning, but unrequested advice. so i hope he isn’t giving grillbz too bad of a time in there.”

 “You told me that everything on the list of dishes he was responsible for was finished. If Papyrus finished everything he was supposed to, then why would he be in the kitchen?”

 “to dispense some of his well-meaning advice.”

 “...Oh. Well, I think Grillby might be able to handle it?” Sans didn’t seem so sure of her words, and neither did she herself honestly. “He seems like the type to work well even under pressure. From what I’ve seen, for someone made of flames, he’s pretty good at keeping a cool head.”

 “yeah, maybe so, but even someone as chill as grillby has got to have an ignition point.” Sans did have a point there, Frisk mentally noted – and while they both knew that the flamesman would never blow up on Papyrus, the likelihood of him becoming tormented by the skeleton’s helpful intentions was quite high. “you said you were going to pop in and check on him? i’ll go with ya – i’ve gotta give grillby his gift anyway, so now’s as good a time as ever, i guess.”

 “What did you get him?” Frisk asked, filled with curiosity.

 “well, it’s not really much of a gyftmas present, but...” He shrugged, seeming somewhat ashamed. “i’m gonna finally pay off my tab with him, with interest. i think he’d probably appreciate that more than anything else i could’ve got him today.”

 “You mean you still haven’t paid off that big bill you racked up in the Underground?” Frisk shook her head, but smiled all the same. “What I have for him isn’t anything material either, but I’m pinning my hopes on the possibility that it’ll be the sort of gift that’ll keep on giving in the long run.”

 “it already sounds a lot better than what i have planned. so, don’t keep me in suspense, kiddo - what’s this spectacular gift of yours that’s supposed to keep on giving all year ‘round? it’s not a one-year membership to the jelly of the month club, is it?”

 “No, and I caught that reference, Sans.” She giggled, and he swore the sound was almost like bells, if only to him. “Some of the monsters, like Grillby, I couldn’t think of anything to give them that I could wrap up in a box. So instead of something physical, I decided to make a present out of an act or service – I’ve made the arrangements for his restaurant to receive a much needed expansion in the near future, since I heard from him and a few other regulars that the building is getting sort of cramped, what with all the new customers he’s drawing in now.”

 “aww, kiddo.” He cooed, “grillby ‘ll probably start crying soot when you drop the news on him. an upsized establishment is the best thing you ever could have thought up to give him. you’ve got me beat in that department - that’s way better than my idea.”

 “Gyftmas isn’t a contest, Sans.” She gently chided him. “And I’m sure that Grillby will be more than happy to collect your overdue payments as a present. I’m willing to bet he most likely never thought he’d see a single piece of the gold that went into your meals, so at least it’s a guarantee you’ll be surprising him.”

 “ouch.” He placed one hand over his ribcage, feigning hurt. “that was cold, frisk. real cold. you wanna know how cold that was? that was so cold, that i could step right through that front door and walk straight into that blizzard going on out there, and it’d still be a whole lot warmer than what you just said to me, your ol’ pal sansy.”

 “i was just teasing you, funnybones.” She lightly slapped his arm, the touch more akin to a light tap as she laughed, “I knew you were always planning on paying him back. You always do. Grillby once told me you never did let him down before when it came to eventually clearing off your tabs, so he didn’t expect you to this time, either.”

 “that grillby... what a guy.” Sans shook his head, almost pityingly.

 When they entered the kitchen, they found Papyrus exactly where Sans expected him to be, standing behind the flamesman and leaning over his shoulder, closely scrutinizing his work as he chattered on and on in incomprehensible culinary jargon. Grillby’s reaction to this was subtle – to the casual observer, he would appear to be nothing but the very essence of calm. However, the slightly erratic flickering of the flames that composed his body made them aware that Grillby was steadily becoming increasingly distressed at the unwanted commentary and being so closely observed. If that alone hadn’t clearly sent the message across, then the near pleading look he gave the two when he took notice of their presence certainly would have.

 “i got this.” The skeleton by Frisk’s side whispered. “‘ey, pap? what’re ya up to in here, slaving away in front of a stuffy hot stove, when there’s a party going on out there?”

 “OH, HELLO BROTHER! AND A MERRY GYFTMAS TO OUR GRACIOUS HOSTESS TODAY, MY BEST HUMAN FRIEND, FRISK!” He greeted them cheerfully, then gestured to Grillby. “I WAS MERELY OFFERING MY VASTLY ENHANCED CULINARY EXPERTISE TO ONE OF OUR OTHER FELLOW CHEFS WHO IS IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!”

 “i can see that you’ve been busy.” Sans stated simply, taking in the fire monster’s haggard appearance which Papyrus seemed to be oblivious to. “but pap, it looks like grillbz is about done here, and some of the peeps attending the skelly-bration have been asking about ya in the past half hour.”

 It wasn’t a lie, either. At least five monsters had flagged him down on his way to the kitchen alone, questioning him on the whereabouts of his brother. Perhaps it was merely curiosity at work, as the brothers were rarely apart from one another for extended intervals, but the fact remained that several guests were expecting the appearance of the great Papyrus.

 Sans wanted to rescue his good pal Grillby from the fate of being subjected to his younger brother’s backseat cooking, but he didn’t want to hurt Papyrus’s confidence or his pride in order to do so.

 It was one of his fatal flaws – Sans showed difficulty in being honest with those he loved whenever something was amiss, so he would lie in order to spare their feelings. He held the uttermost purest of intentions, but Frisk had a premonition of sorts that this habit of his would one day return to bite him hard in the boney posterior, and the end result might not be as humorous as it sounded.

 “UGH. THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE. JUST... ABOMINABLE!” Papyrus groaned, his disgusted reaction eliciting a snort from Sans. “...YOU SAY THAT THE PARTY GUESTS... ARE REQUESTING MY COMPANY?! WELL...! I’M TERRIBLY SORRY, GRILLBY, I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS MY REMORSE, BUT I MUST LEAVE THE REST OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE DONE IN YOUR CAPABLE HANDS!”

 “That’s quite alright, Papyrus.” Grillby’s soft, whispery voice crackled, the relief it displayed only being discernible to the human and the shorter skeleton. “I can finish up the rest of the cooking just fine by myself – you go and enjoy yourself.”

 Sans had cleverly played on the enjoyment Papyrus took out of being the center of several’s attention well – he had no difficulty in carting him out of the room and thus allowing the overstressed fire monster to complete his assigned task in relative peace.

 Before they slipped out of the kitchen, Frisk left an envelope addressed to him on the counter where she was certain he would find it. Inside were papers, the documents detailing the renovations and additions that would be appended to his restaurant, and all that would be required of him in exchange is that he sign his name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page.

 This is what Frisk murmured to Sans when he inquired over the contents of the mysterious parcel he had noticed she left behind for Grillby to discover.

 “didn’t you want to watch him open it, though?”

 “Yeah, I did, but... I thought that if he really did end up crying over it, then it might fluster him if he did that in front of you or me or Papyrus. This way, he can be as emotional as needed in his own privacy, and Grillby can find me later to talk about it if he wants to after he’s composed himself.”

 “i’m sure he’d appreciate the consideration. pretty much anybody that’s known grillby for long enough is aware that it don’t take much for him to get worked up until he’s shedding soot all over everything. you’d think he’d be the stoic type, someone that isn’t easily moved, but that first impression couldn’t be further from the truth.”

 “I think it’s wonderfully sweet. The world needs more caring and tenderhearted men like him. There are way too many aloof, dismissive, and severely emotionally stunted types out there already.”

 “yeah?” Sans replied, his interest piqued – not that she picked up on anything unusual or out of sorts in his behavior.

 Little did Frisk know, topics such as her preferences in men, specifically monster men, had been frequently occupying his thoughts as of late.

 A spark of faint, barely there attraction had manifested following her befriending and hanging out with his brother. He made a valiant effort in forcing these feelings of his down as deeply as he could shove them, to the very bottom of his protesting SOUL. He tried to convince himself that such a thing between them would never work out by using various methods to psyche himself out of his budding crush.

 She’s a human. She could still be dangerous. Monsters aren’t supposed to feel this way about humans. The other monsters would make fun of you. It will only end in tragedy. You’d put her in danger if anyone found out. She would never feel the same.

 Such excuses was what he relied on to reign in his emerging urges, his desires to pursue a relationship of a romantic nature with her. But the more time he spent with her, the more he heard her laugh that was reminiscent of the chiming of bells at his jokes, his japes, and antics, the more he beheld her smile that shined brighter than the stars he loved so much, the more it became impossible to deny that he had fallen.

 Fallen deeply and hopelessly in love.

 He was constantly torn between handing out hints that pointed towards his sentiments and doing everything within his power to bury them from her sight. He didn’t want her to uncover his blossoming affections, yet he did want her to. Sans had never felt such a terrifying, yet thrilling sensation in his entire life.

 Since he was made aware of his own feelings towards Frisk, there were only two things holding him back from participating in the games of love, presently. The first was the very real prospect that she may not share his feelings. The second, however...

 “Papyrus, before either of you go wandering off anywhere, I need you and Sans to stay put for a moment – I’m going to get your Gyftmas gifts out from under the tree. I hope they haven’t been buried underneath the others up by now...”

 Papyrus nearly squealed with jubilation and delight, gushing over her thoughtfulness as Sans for the second time that day was caught off-guard.

 “you mean the socks weren’t my present?” He questioned, pointing to his legs which were covered up to his patella in tiny burgers and fries.

 “Good gracious, how did I not notice that you were still wearing those things?” Frisk remarked, the second-hand embarrassment almost overwhelming.

 “your guess is as good as mine, ‘cuz you really should of since you’re so short.”

 “Oh hush.” She huffed, scurrying off for a few minutes before returning with two boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper.

 Once the boxes were in their respective hands, both noted that the presents were actually rather heavy in weight. They took the time to tilt their gifts from side to side, gently shaking them in front of her, just to tease Frisk a little before opening them. Sans felt the need to casually stick the bow that was on the box to the side of his skull, for whatever reason – this borderline bizarre action still elicited a laugh out of the girl all the same, much to his inner satisfaction.

 Because that was a part of love – doing stupid and even irrational things just to make the one you loved happy.

 Papyrus tore into his present first, and he couldn’t have been more captivated with what was inside.

 “SANS, LOOK!” He proudly held up a thick book with several tabs sticking out of the pages; it was a book of recipes, to be precise. “‘101 WAYS TO PREPARE PERFECTLY PLEASING PASTA’! EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE EVER WISHED TO LEARN ABOUT SPAGHETTI IS CONTAINED WITHIN THE CONFINES OF THIS BOOK! I CAN AT LAST TOSS OUT THAT OUTDATED COPY WITH ALL THE FADED AND TORN BITS I FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND’S JUNKYARD!”

 So that explained what was wrong with his spaghetti then, Frisk thought. Chunks of his previous cookbook were missing, and he must have tried to substitute ingredients and wing the rest of the recipe’s steps, with disastrous results.

 ...But that still didn’t quite explain why it wasn’t even remotely edible. Just what had he put inside the sauce?!

 “so i guess that you’ll be telling that old book...” Sans started, the grin on his face spreading further.

 “SANS, DON’T YOU DARE!”

 “pasta-la vista.”

 Papyrus’s entire body gave an almost violent jerk as a strangled wheezing sound escaped his throat – it was a laugh or a chortle of some sort, that much they were sure of, but he had done his best to suppress it.

“SANS... THAT PUN WAS EVEN WORSE THAN THE LAST!”

 “nuh uh. you thought it was hilarious.” Sans calmly contended with a smirk. “don’t even try to deny it, paps. your reaction said more than words ever could.”

 “...I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY OR HOW THAT HAPPENED. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED IT, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, BUT I STILL LAUGHED ANYWAY!”

 “i know the answer to that – it’s because i’m the pun-niest skeleton that ever lived.”

 “...THAT IS DEBATABLE.” Papyrus shot him an unamused glance. “NOW DON’T BONE-DOGGLE AROUND ANY FURTHER THAN NECESSARY – START UNWRAPPING YOUR OWN PRESENT AND SHOW ME WHAT FRISK GAVE YOU FOR GYFTMAS!”

 “ok, patience, paps. don’t get your tibia in a twist.” He chuckled, tearing off the wrapping paper in one swift motion and gingerly opening the top flaps of the box to reveal... another book, even heftier than the last. He flipped through it, his sockets gradually widening as he viewed its divisions. “it’s... an astronomy book. star maps, pictures and scientific accounts of solar and lunar eclipses, statistics about the planets in the solar system...”

 Questioning whether he appreciated it wasn’t at all necessary – his expression of wonderment spoke for itself. Sans was positively beaming, and the sight of him wholeheartedly enjoying her gift sent a series of warm fuzzies straight to her heart.

 “thanks a bunch, but... you... you didn’t have to get me anything...” He was touched almost beyond words. “this must have cost a literal fortune...”

 “Pish posh. Never you mind about the price.” She waved off his concern, only providing further proof to him that the astronomy book was indeed more expensive than she was letting on. “Seeing the look that’s on your face right now made it worth every cent.”

 “aw geez, kiddo...” A bright blue blush crept onto and coated his cheeks once more - Frisk couldn’t quite say why, but she found the shade and color to be exceedingly cute.

 Papyrus then plucked Frisk from her place off the floor and pressed her firmly against his chest, hugging her tightly as he thanked her. So tightly that breathing was becoming somewhat of a challenge while being subjected to his loving clasp. Sans squeezed his way into the embrace, finding some amount of enjoyment in watching Frisk struggle and squirm before interfering by tugging at the sleeve of the other skeleton’s sweater.

 “bro, i know you mean well, but I think you might be squishing her.”

 “Yes, please don’t squish the human...” She whined pitifully.

 “OH! MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES, FRISK!” He released her posthaste, setting her down with evident care on her own two feet. “I SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOUR FRAGILE HUMAN BODY WASN’T PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FULLY WITHSTAND THE FORMIDABLE STRENGTH FROM THE POWERFUL PHYSIQUE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

 “I’m fine, Papyrus. Just... give me a moment to catch my breath.”

 She supposed his tendency of putting his all into everything, even something as natural as an embrace, was a trait that came about from his friendship with Undyne. The fish woman was in no definition of the word gentle, so even the simplest of gestures such as handshakes and hugs were elevated to an extreme level.

 “So, I’ll... take that as a sign that you liked your gift?”

 “YES! IMMENSELY SO!” Papyrus answered as he held the cookbook filled with pasta recipes up, almost proudly. “I PROMISE, FRISK, ONCE I PERFECT THIS RECIPE, YOU’LL HAVE THE MOST DELICIOUS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE, YOU CAN COUNT ON THAT!”

 Several months ago, her insides would have twisted up in dread at that. But now, she could actually feel her stomach threatening to growl and the faintest traces of drool beginning to form at her mouth. She was genuinely looking forward to his dish to the point that Frisk wished she could eat it immediately, if not sooner.

 Against her wishes, all these thoughts and talk of spaghetti spurred her stomach to indeed growl, and quite loudly at that. She could feel the air around them still, and both brothers were staring at her with expressions that could only be described as judgmental.

 “you... you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, did you, kiddo?” Sans says after a long pause, almost accusingly.

 “...No.” She admitted, seeing there was no sense in attempting to fib her way out of this one.

 The once denizens of the Underground took food very seriously, if the vast array of cuisines Frisk came across during her journey were any indication. It seemed each monster she met had some sort of signature dish, such as Toriel’s butterscotch cinnamon pies, Sans’s hotdogs (or even more specifically, hotcats), Muffet’s spider doughnuts and cider, and of course Papyrus’s spaghetti.

 Monsters took their mealtimes very seriously, and Frisk had just committed a terrible offense in their eyes, or rather eye sockets.

 “FRISK, WHY WOULDN’T YOU EAT BREAKFAST THIS MORNING?” Papyrus questioned her mournfully, sounding betrayed. “IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!!!”

 She had definitely upset him, Frisk realized – he had used three question marks when reprimanding her, something that was usually only reserved for him when he was at his utmost happiest.

 “I... I didn’t have time to.”

 “kiddo, you’re surrounded at every angle by food.” Sans gestured all around them at the tables, every inch of their surfaces covered by dishes filled with delicacies. “that’s, kind of the entire reason why you asked us all to bring something? so nobody would have to go hungry at this party? so, uh, tell me, frisk – what makes you think the host is exempt from that precaution, huh?”

 “It’s not like I chose not to eat anything on purpose, I’ve just been busy.” She feebly defended herself, already aware that she was fighting a hopeless battle. “Making sure everybody’s happy, handing out gifts, that sort of stuff...”

 Sans studied her for a moment, seeming to process her words carefully before craning his neck upwards to look at his brother.

 “...pap? you don’t mind taking up the position of co-host, do you?”

 “WOWIE, WOULD I EVER!”

 “Wh-What?” Frisk blinked twice at them, confused beyond all reason. “What do you mean ‘co-host’?”

 “it means exactly what is sounds like – pap is gonna take over some of your responsibilities so you can relax.”

 “And I don’t get a say in this at all...?”

 “nope.” “NOPE!”

 Their replies were simultaneous, cheerful, and matter of fact, and before she knew it, Frisk felt the bony hand of Sans clamp around her own, tugging her away from the taller skeleton and towards the banquet.

 “But-But I still have presents to deliver to their proper recipients!” She protested, Sans not slowing down in the slightest.

 “YOUR CONCERNS ARE UNFOUNDED, FRISK! THE PRESENTS HAVE TAGS!”

 “they’ve got tags, frisk.” Sans parroted, as if she had somehow not heard him. “don’t worry your pretty head; he’s got this.”

 “Okay, if you say so...” She responded, not sounding convinced at all.

 “trust me on this – papyrus is somebody that feels like he needs to be doing stuff constantly, all the time, and he likes being useful. while i do wish that he would sit down and smell the spaghetti from time to time, this is something good to him, and for him. paps being co-host and handing out presents will give him the chance to mingle, maybe make some friends, even. this’ll be like a whole other present, to him.”

 “All of that does make a lot of sense, now that you’ve explained it...” Frisk conceded defeat to his logic. “...But that doesn’t mean that you have to pull me around just to show me the table spread. I’m the one that set up everything, remember? I know where the food is.”

 “obviously, you don’t, since you haven’t eaten anything yet.” He shot back, and she stuck out her tongue at him childishly – he was just as immature, though, and flicked his own out as well.

 Once they were at the table, he commenced piling the food onto two plates, one for her and one for himself. He then guided his human companion to one of the couches, one where not as many guests were gathered around so there was no danger of someone getting rowdy and spilling their food onto the floor.

 The moment they were seated, before Frisk could even get comfortable, a tiny hotdog wrapped up in a croissant (otherwise known as pigs in a blanket, Sans’s own culinary contribution to the event) was shoved in front of her face, tapping insistently at her lips. She lightly shoved his arm away, but he was persistent.

 “Sans, I know how to eat by myself. You don’t have to feed me!” She squawked as she continued batting at his hands, refusing to allow him to push the tiny sausage past her lips.

 It was mostly out of a sense of paranoia of someone seeing them and getting the wrong idea. The last thing she needed was for someone to begin harassing the skeleton because someone mistakenly believed they were an item. Human-monster couples had become a thing remarkably quickly, but Frisk didn’t believe that Sans would ever be interested in pursuing a relationship with one, much less herself.

 “well, you could of fooled me.” He snipped, and he used her shocked expression at that to his advantage, popping the pig in a blanket into her open mouth. “there, now doesn’t that taste good, baby?”

 “...You’re making me seriously reconsider being a pacifist, Sans.” The girl warned him, but he knew it was all in good fun, wiping away the crumbs at her mouth as she chewed with his thumb before bringing another one to her lips.

 She reached up to snatch the little hotdog from his fingers, causing him to pout exaggeratingly.

 “Well, well, well... aren’t the two of you getting cozy~” A soft and sugary female voice remarked.

 Frisk whirled her head around to find Muffet standing a few feet away, staring at them with the corners of her mouth curved up into a sweet but sly smile.

 Out of all the monsters that could have caught the two of them like this, Muffet was by far not the worst, Frisk thought. She would definitely tease her over this, if not the both of them, but she wasn’t one to spread rumors around.

 Sans, however, seemed to have no sense of shame and all and curled an arm around Frisk’s shoulders, pulling her closer to his side and flashing a grin that matched Muffet’s own. The two monsters shared a knowing gaze that made Frisk feel as though she were missing something here...

 “Hey Muffet, did you come to chat?” She asked somewhat nervously, but the spider lady seemed to be fixed on what she had just witnessed.

 “Oh, and what could be happening here? Did I step into a secret little romantic rendezvous between two lovers?”

 Frisk nearly blanched, and even more distressingly bizarre was, Sans made no moves to deny her outlandish claims. The most he did was wiggle whatever constituted as his eyebrows at Muffet then turning around and doing the same with her. He then picked up another morsel from the platter between his two phalanges in an attempt to feed her again, as if she were some sort of small animal in need of treats.

 “Hmm, that looks fun, dearie. Let me try!” And with that, Muffet plucked one of the pigs in a blanket off of Frisk’s plate herself and poked at the human’s lips with it.

 “Muffet, no, not you too-mphh!” She was quickly silenced by the sausage being shoved into her mouth.

 “Aww, what a sour expression.” Muffet cooed, reaching out to pinch Frisk’s cheek, tugging it around in different directions before releasing her hold.

 Frisk made a solemn vow to herself, then and there – she was never going without eating breakfast again.

 The price was just too much to pay.

 When she turned her head upwards to look at Sans sitting next to her, all smug, she mentally noted that was probably the point of all this. Nevertheless, an important lesson was learned.

 She snagged her plate from the skeleton and scooched as far away from him as possible, all the way to the other side of the couch. Sans, however, just moved as well, sidling right up next to her and slinging his arm around her shoulders once more.

 “The two of you are adorable together~” Muffet giggled, taking her place on the couch at the space directly next to Sans. “I actually didn’t come over here just to torment you, dearie. I wanted to speak with you.”

 “...About what?” Frisk questioned, suspiciously and with a hint of dread.

 “Oh, nothing for you to be wearing such a grim expression. I encountered Papyrus a few minutes ago and he delivered your gift to me on your behalf – I came over here to thank you! An expansion for my bakery, to somehow arrange such a thing was incredibly... generous, of you.”

 “I couldn’t think of a single other thing that might make you more happy.” Frisk confessed. “That was the best I could do.”

 “Dearie, there isn’t a single other thing you could have given me that would have made me happier.” Muffet shook her head, her pigtails swaying from side to side. “I was elated to have that old building and make it into something of my own, you must believe me on that, but it was so very... cramped. And there was only so much I could do with that limited space, and thus only so much I could earn with the few resources I had available.”

 Muffet frowned, her voice dwindling to nothing more than a murmur.

 “...I am aware of what others say of me, I’ve heard their whispers; that I’m stingy and constantly demanding money, and perhaps that is true in a certain sense, but I behave so not for myself, but for all of them, my family.”

 She gestured around the room, and Frisk could make out several members of the Arachnid family in the crowd. She hadn’t met any of them during her adventure underground, but Muffet was more than eager to introduce them to her after they had struck up a proper friendship and began spending an extended time in each other’s company. Frisk always knew that Muffet was so much more than a money-grubbing spider like some spoke of her as being, but now more than ever was Frisk made aware that she was simply a hard-working monster, toiling endlessly to provide for her family.

 “I never once thought such a thing would ever leave my lips, but...” Muffet sighed blissfully, “your gift almost feels too generous. My one and only wish, every year when Gyftmas arrived, was for all of them to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never truly cared much about seeing the surface, if I’m being honest with myself, but ever since they began occupying it along with the rest of us, that’s all they’ve ever been – happier than I’ve ever seen them. And I have you to thank for it.”

 Muffet was right – Frisk couldn’t exactly speak for how they may have behaved prior to the breaking of the barrier, but each and every member of her family seemed to be in high spirits whenever she saw them. And today, Gyftmas Day, was no different.

 She could spot Irene, the big, buff tarantula, arm wrestling with Undyne, Alphys cheering her on along with several others while Irene was supported by several other spiders and monsters, and it appeared it was going to be a close match. Edgar, a short and rather shy male black widow, was cuddling with his human girlfriend Elizabeth on one of the other couches (fiancé, he frequently insisted, in spite of them only having known each other for a few months at most). Muffet’s father, Daddy Longlegs, who was also one of the higher up employees at Frisk’s office, seemed to be conversing with some other guests over by the punch bowl, the once tall and intimidating monster wearing a gentle smile on his face.

 Ku-Mo, Muffet’s mysterious as much as beautiful relative from Japan, who had fled from the war and thus managed to escape the fate of being imprisoned in the Underground, had arrived with her human husband in tow, the two having been married in secret for several years already and were currently quietly enjoying each other’s company by the crackling fireplace. Julian the peacock spider, a dancer and a designer, was bickering endlessly with Mettaton who he often claimed to be his rival, as per usual during their encounters, but even that was far more lighthearted and less snide than the norm. Spinerette, his timid brown recluse wife, was watching from the sidelines, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible.

 Charlotte and Peter, the twins of inexplicable origin (Muffet claimed the two just appeared before her several years ago, as if having manifested from thin air; no mother, father, nor any relative of the sort accompanying them, and the already massive arachnid family took both brother and sister in without any further questioning), were supposed to be eating together while watching television, but were spending more time tossing mini marshmallows from their cocoa at one other over little comments the other made more than anything. And Webber, Muffet’s first cousin and a tarantula/daddy longlegs hybrid, was busying himself with keeping the Annoying Dog preoccupied with pets so Papyrus wouldn’t freak out.

 Watching them all like this, along with the others, it was exactly the sort of beautiful chaos that Frisk had wanted out of today.

 Muffet then more or less pushed Sans to the side to envelop Frisk in a loving, six-armed embrace, holding onto her tightly like a lifeline.

 “Seeing them like this, this is all I’ve ever wanted out of this life of mine. ...Everyone had to keep up appearances in the Underground, a jovial one; we all wore a smile, grinning and bearing it, but occasions such as these are the ones where I know for a fact that they’re genuine – real. I sleep so much better in my nest knowing they’re all so much happier this way.”

 She held the human even closer towards her, if that was somehow possible.

 “As far as I’m concerned, Frisk, you’re a member of the arachnid family as well. If you need anything, dearie, anything at all, then please keep in mind that you can come to me for whatever it may be.”

 To say that Frisk felt touched by the sentiment would be the understatement of the century. Muffet had a strong sense of family, but didn’t befriend others easily. She spent so much of her time invested in keeping her own kind content that she simply had none left to spare on friendship, not until she left the Underground. Muffet always wore a mask of mystery, much like her relative Ku-Mo, giggling sweetly and deflecting questions about her own state of happiness in favor of focusing on her family’s.

 She and Sans were very much the same in that regard – perhaps that was why the two were always so amicable towards each other. They had a mutual understanding.

 “Dearie, I know it isn’t much; I’m certain that nothing I could possibly give you could ever properly repay for everything you’ve done for me and my family, but this is my gift to you.”

 Muffet gently placed a medium sized box onto Frisk’s lap, light in weight and the wrapping paper covered in little cupcakes. It was so adorable that she hesitated for a moment to open it, but she could tell that despite her modesty when presenting it, Muffet was eager to see her reaction to its contents.

 Inside the gift box was... a blanket. A silk blanket, and it appeared to be a handmade item. The blanket was as white as the fallen snow covering everything outside, and the fabric almost had its own sparkling quality to it as well. Every detail was intricate, so much so that staring at it for too long almost made Frisk’s head begin to spin. Muffet had told her that this present was nothing to get excited over, but the amount of effort that must have went into the weaving of this blanket warmed her to the very core.

 “Muffet, it’s... it’s... beautiful!” She cried, holding it up for Sans to see, having crawled back up onto the couch sometime since the spider lady shoved him.

 “I’m so happy to hear that, dearie!” And she could tell that what she said was genuine, Muffet’s features relaxing somewhat. “I wanted this one to be my greatest creation yet outside of the bakery business, but... I feel as though the pressure I placed on myself only caused me to make more mistakes. I believe I spent more time retracing my steps and fixing my blunders than actually weaving...”

 “Well, the end result is breathtaking, and I mean that in the best of ways. Thank you so much!” Frisk praised her work as she carefully folded up the blanket, intending to place it on her bed once an opportunity to do so had made itself available.

 “The blanket should be big enough for two. Perfect for cuddling.” Muffet giggled, then turned a pointed glare towards Sans as she stood up. “And Sans, dearie? If I discover that you’ve stained it with ketchup in the future, I’ll strangle you in your sleep~”

 The spider lady then stepped away from the pair, in high spirits like the rest of her kin, leaving the two of them to process her words.

 Frisk simply saw her suggestive behavior towards them as Muffet being, well, Muffet. Sans, meanwhile, must have taken what she said more to heart, because a deep blue blush had covered his entire face, but he was grinning shyly as he took the blanket from her, putting it inside the box it came in and setting it safely to the side before placing her plate of food from earlier onto her lap.

 “eat the rest before it gets too cold to.” He ordered, seeming to have forgotten or at least pretended not to know that monster food didn’t cool down like human food did.

 Nevertheless, she did what was asked of her, otherwise he might decide to feed her again in front of everybody.

 “Sure, he clams up because of something silly that Muffet said, but when it comes to him shoveling food into my mouth, in public, that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest...” Frisk inwardly remarked, reflecting on the skeleton’s hypocrisy.

 They finished their lunch a while later, idle chatter between the two eventually filling in the awkward silence that the spider lady had left behind. On each occasion it seemed to Sans that Frisk was done when her plate wasn’t empty, he prepared himself to feed her again, giving her plenty of warning beforehand to coax her into eating everything in front of her. He continued to do this until it was cleared, the human girl sending him a grumpy glare once she had, to which he responded by pinching her cheek.

 “Jerkface.” That was the only thing she could think of to call him, as juvenile as she knew it was – he just smiled warmly at her.

 “i love you too.” He immediately replied before turning all the way around, appearing to Frisk as though he suddenly found the wallpaper extremely fascinating.

 “i can’t believe i just said that out loud, joking or not...” He thought, but the inner pride swelling in his ribcage for having finally said those sweet words that so often stirred inside his SOUL whenever he was with her won out over any shame and embarrassment he might have felt.

 This sense of satisfaction didn’t last long, unfortunately for him, and soon his insecurities and fears took over once again.

 Much to his relief, Toriel had made an appearance shortly after his little accidental declaration. Much to his chagrin, however, she came in the company of Flowey, otherwise dubbed by Sans as ‘that awful weed’.

 Flowey looked none too happy to be here as well, and the tiny wool winter beanie the queen had knitted for him which rested on his topmost petal did little to brighten the overall mood he was emanating, much less the matching sweater he also wore or the bright red bow wrapped around his pot.

 Frisk, on the contrary, thought he was adorable.

 “Awww!” She nearly squealed when she caught sight of him, momentarily abandoning Sans to coo over his attire. “Looks like somebody came ready for Gyftmas!”

 “Bah humbug.” He grumbled, but the faint blush that bloomed across his face didn’t escape her eye.

 What also didn’t escape her observation was the object that dangled over the doorway, directly above them. A clever idea came to her.

 “I apologize for his rudeness, my child.” Toriel gave her a sheepish smile. “He’s been in a sour mood all morning, I’m afraid.”

 Frisk supposed that he would be. This was very likely the first Gyftmas he would be taking part in after several long years of being a flower. The last time he had a proper Gyftmas was probably when he was the Underground’s prince, Asriel, and that had been a long, long time ago.

 “Well, if he’s gonna have that kind of attitude, then maybe I’ll just have to keep his present to myself until he learns better manners.” Frisk spoke as if he weren’t right there, but her tone was discernibly playful – he quickly perked up.

 “Well, don’t keep me in suspense!” He demanded as he impatiently wiggled his leaves, “Let me have it!”

 “oh, i’m gonna let him have it, alright...” Sans muttered under his breath, but Frisk elbowed him in the ribs and told him to shush.

 “Okay, but you have to close your eyes first!” The skeleton by her side raised a socket slightly at this, but said nothing, just stared at her inquisitively.

 “...Oh, fine... fine...” Flowey conceded defeat to her whims, closing his cartoonishly beady eyes as instructed.

 “And no peeking either!”

 “I won’t, I won’t!” He insisted complainingly.

 “Okay, now keep them shut...” She giggled, leaning in closer towards him, holding her breath before...

 “Mwah!” She smooched the flower, right on the mouth. “Mistletoe kiss!”

 “BLUH!!!” He sputtered, retreating backwards and staring at her with wild eyes, then began coughing, wheezing, and hacking as though he were dying. “Bleh! Bluh! Ptooey! Ugh...”

 The two women watched his theatrics with an amused glee; meanwhile Sans was sulking a few feet away, mumbling unintelligibly to himself.

 “ungrateful brat. would’a been over the moon if that’d been me...”

 A few more moments of spitting and spluttering passed before Toriel chose to speak up over her son-flower’s dramatic display of disgust.

 “Flowey, dear, you’ve made your point. That’s enough of that.” She chided him gently, placing a gentle paw over his head to give him a comforting pat.

 His mother’s warm and familiar touch calmed him considerably, but he was most definitely still sour over the trick.

 “And just what was that supposed to be?” He grumbled to Frisk, who was still smiling cheekily throughout the whole ordeal.

 “Affection!” She replied cheerfully.

 “Disgusting.”

 “Well, if that’s how your attitude’s gonna be today, then I’m just gonna have to give this-” A small gift box with a bow appeared before his round beady eyes, which she had somehow procured from behind her back despite there being no evidence of it having been there before, “to someone else, then.”

 His demeanor took an almost instantaneous shift; still displeased with her jokes, but far too eager to receive his gift to risk tempting Frisk’s patience with him, just in the unlikely but certainly possible case that she was actually serious about withholding his present privileges.

 Satisfied with his compliance, Frisk then placed the tiny box in front of Flowey, resting on the rim of his pot. Before she could begin to question just how he was going to open it without any fingers, or even hands for that matter, he immediately tore into his gift, quite literally, with his teeth. He ripped off the bow first and foremost and flung it to the side, hitting Sans directly in the face – it couldn’t have possibly hurt him, but he complained nonetheless.

 In just seconds, Flowey had stripped the box of all it’s wrappings and was free to lift the lid to the bare box lying underneath. Inside was... some sort of micro-sized controller, or that’s what it seemed to be to him and his observers.

 “It’s a Flowey-sized game controller!” Frisk explained happily, confirming the identity of his gift. “I asked Alphys to make it for you, since she and I thought it wasn’t really fair that you’re always at a disadvantage whenever we play together.”

 He stared down at the controller for the longest, then lifted it into his leaves with apparent wonder, taking a few moments to fiddle with the various buttons and other parts installed into it’s design. After a few seconds, a wide smile crossed his face – not one of his cruel, deranged ones, but a genuinely pleased and pleasant smile.

 And that was all the thanks Frisk could have ever asked from the prince turned sentient plant.

 Unfortunately, her friend Sans didn’t share the same thoughts.

 “i didn’t hear a ‘thank you’...” He all but grumbled, both of his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.

 “I’ll say it after I wipe the floor with you in Smash.” Flowey spoke matter-of-factly with a smug and satisfied smirk.

 A dark shadow crossed his face, and the skeleton suddenly leaned towards him to whisper something, “...yoshi committed tax fraud.”

 ...and that was when Frisk and Toriel knew they had to step in before this escalated to an incident.

 “HE DID NOT! STOP SPREADING YOUR LIES, SKELETON!!!” The buttercup more or less shrieked, struggling to free himself from his pot as Toriel quickly stepped several paces backwards.

 “I’ll talk to you later, Toriel.” Frisk said swiftly, wrapping her arms around Sans’s middle and dragging him away before he could make the situation between him and Flowey worse than it already was.

 “Can you go one day, one day without being a colossal butt?” She asked, already knowing the answer before he even opened his stupid mouth.

 “nope.”

 “See, I knew you were going to say that.” She sighed, more to herself than to him. “I didn’t even get the chance to give Toriel her gift, and all because you couldn’t play nice with Flowey for more than two seconds.”

 “sure, blame your bestest pal, sansy.” His tone remained jovial though, despite the blatant accusation that was also present. “here, just gimme the gift and i’ll get pap to deliver it. no sweat.”

 “But I wanted to see her face when she opened it...” Frisk whined, gazing down at the tiny box in her hand – inside was a snail shell pendant, the fragile mollusk casing cast in a layer of genuine rose gold on a matching delicate chain. “...And it’s all your fault.”

 “ok, ok... even though you’re being all cute and pouty about it, i can tell that you’re really upset with me.” He snatched the box from her hand before she could react, handing it off to Papyrus with just as much speed before turning back to her. “so, let me make it up to you. c’mon, put on your coat and boots and let’s head outside.”

 “Outside...?” She parroted, staring at the skeleton as though he had just spontaneously grown a second head. “Outside, as in, outside with all of that snow?”

 “hey, the weather’s calmed down a bunch since we’ve been here. see? it’s just fluttering down, completely harmless. so going out there now would be more like standing under a shower of white confetti.”

 He did have a point, Frisk acknowledged when she glanced out the window for herself. Aside from that, Sans seemed to be really eager about something, and while the probability of it being over a dumb, not to mention juvenile prank was extremely high, she enjoyed seeing him happy.

 So, a few minutes later, the human girl had donned her winter apparel and headed out of the house with him, quietly leaving the party without a word to make their way into her frosted over backyard garden.

 The pair sat on a bench in the middle of the area, directly in front of the frozen pond. Frisk had once pondered over purchasing some koi for it, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Just what does one do with the fish when winter came, anyway?

 “Okay, Sans. I can tell you’re giddy, so don’t even try denying it – don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

 “impatient, much?” He chuckled, but there was a noticeable bead of sweat trailing down his skull despite the surrounding temperature, and it seemed as though he were concealing something from her sight from within the pocket of his hoodie.

 He might have been able to hide the last thing from her, if only his hand hadn’t been fidgeting so much. It appeared that he was fumbling with the object, nervously running and drumming his phalanges over it every few seconds as if to ensure that it was still there. She had quite honestly never seen him like this, and it was both concerning to her, yet simultaneously fascinating.

 “here we go, moment of truth.” He spoke after a long pause, almost more to himself than to her. “hold out your hand.”

 At witnessing her hesitance, he assured her. “this isn’t some prank. i promise.”

 And at his usage of the ‘p’ word – promise, any doubts she may have previously been holding onto had instantly been vanquished and Frisk readily held out her hand, waiting. After a moment more, a small box was then placed into her open palm.

 “merry gyftmas, frisk...” Was all he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and could even be described as sweet.

 She glanced over the box, surveying its size.

 “...Is it a tiny whoopie cushion?”

 “nooooo...” Sans snorted, shaking his head. “if you want to know what’s inside so bad, then why not just... open it?”

 Deciding that she’d teased him for long enough, Frisk giggled softly, and gingerly lifted the lid to the box.

 To see the contents of the box, she had to push aside some tissue paper concealing the identity of her gift, but once this was done, what was revealed to her was some sort of clear ball, a bit bigger than the larger marbles one would sometimes find in a set of the glass toys. And visible within the ball was a small flower. Not a faux flower made of silk or some other fabric, but a real one that had been preserved in resin, its color a striking bright blue, so radiant it was almost glowing, no, it was glowing...

 It was an echo flower.

 Undoubtedly the tiniest echo flower she had ever laid eyes on.

 She gingerly lifted the preserved echo flower from its box, discovering a long silver chain was attached to it.

 Sans had gotten her a necklace. She never, not once would have ever expected him to present her with jewelry – he just didn’t seem like that sort of guy.

 That wasn’t to say that he was cheap with his gifts, no, far from it, in fact. But this gesture went so beyond the unexpected that Frisk was left speechless. She needed to say something, and soon, otherwise Sans will believe that he had failed in some shape or form when the reality was, this just may be one of the most precious items she had ever received.

 “Sans... it’s not really something I condone, picking favorites, I mean, but...” She smiled, the sort of one that always sent the skeleton monster’s SOUL spinning, and held up the pendant with pride. “This is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve received today. It’s beautiful.”

 “aww... you’re just saying that.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

 “I am not!” She insisted, standing up. “And I’m going to put it on. Right now!”

 “here, let me.” He immediately leapt to his own feet and took the necklace from her grasp, unfastening the chain before looping it around her neck.

 Both of his arms were wrapped around her as he fumbled with the clasp, struggling to refasten the pendant. At least, that was what he led Frisk to believe. Even in their current position, he could have easily secured the two ends of the chain, if he so wished. But that wasn’t what he wished, so he didn’t – not yet.

 To any passerby that may have witnessed the two, it would appear as though they were an embracing couple, and that’s precisely what Sans wanted to believe they were, even if only for this moment in time. He was too much of a coward, too filled with insecurity and doubt to hold her so tenderly against him in a more direct manner.

 So, he would prolong this moment for as long as possible, or as long as Frisk would allow him to.

 “hehe... silly thing just won’t... it’s like my phalanges are coated in butter.” He pretended to struggle with the two ends of the necklace’s chain once more. “just give me a few more seconds, frisk.”

 She missed the near pleading tone present in the last line that he spoke.

 “Maybe this would have been easier if you stood behind me instead...?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, not that he could see it – his head was resting on her shoulder so he could see what he was doing with the chain’s clasp.

 “maybe, but i’ve got this.” He fumbled with it for a few seconds longer, then finally put a silent end to the charade, thus ending their impromptu embrace.

 He took a step back and took in the sight of his handiwork – the echo flower pendant rested directly over her heart and SOUL, just where he wanted it to be.

 “there’s something special about that echo flower, though. it isn’t just there to look pretty.” A fierce blue blush was slowly creeping and spreading up and across his skull. “you remember what they’re famous for, right? give it a little tap. might need two or three to work, but give it a try.”

 “Sans... am I gonna hear the sound of one of your whoopie cushions if I do?”

 “do i really seem like the sort of weirdo that would do that?” He inquired, and honestly, not only was it exactly something that he might do, it sounded like a hilarious idea, but he wasn’t about to ruin such a sentimental gesture with such a cheap prank.

 “...Yes.”

 “it’s not another whoopie cushion prank, frisk.” Then he quickly added, with a strong sense of sincerity in his voice. “it’s not any kind of prank at all.”

 Satisfied with his reply, she did as he previously instructed and gave the pendant a few short and swift taps, then waited.

 The flower, despite being trapped inside the glass, glowed just a bit brighter, then...

 “take care of yourself, frisk... because someone really cares about you...”

 She recognized and remembered those words well. She had heard them before, after all, towards the end of her journey in the Underground. He had spoken those very same words to her in New Home’s Judgement Hall, but there were two stark differences when comparing the sentence from then and now, one of them obviously being the use of her name, as he nor any other monster bore knowledge of the final fallen human’s name.

 However, the intonation of the familiar phrase had changed as well – it was quieter, softer, fonder than when he said it in the past.

 “...you’ve done so much for us, frisk.” Sans spoke after a meaningful pause. “...and you’re still doing things for us. you... you really care about us monsters. it’s undeniable. you’ve even accomplished the impossible – the barrier trapping us underground broke, and i know you had something to do with it, even if i’m still not completely sure how it was possible, or if the specifics are even really important now.”

 He sat back down on the bench, patting the spot next to him and urging her to do the same.

 “you just keep on making things better, turning our most insane of fantasies into reality in the present when a whole lot of us back then were so hopeless to the point that some of us were seriously considering... giving up. i just... i think about everything that you’ve done for us, every single day, sometimes even all day, ever since i met you, and, well... i just started to wonder; do you know how much you’re cared for?”

 He let out a soft chuckle, closing his sockets and throwing all his inhibitions to the side.

 “i know the others are grateful, but i still can’t speak for any of them. i’m just sans the skeleton, after all. but... if the question being asked is, ‘does sans the skeleton care about frisk the human, our ambassador, our savior?’ then the answer is, ‘yeah, he does’. frisk, when i said ‘someone really cares about you’, that someone was supposed to be me. i care about you. a whole lot. i guess you could even say i care a skele-ton. ...i’m just sorry it took me so long to say it, but that’s how i really feel. i just wanted you to know that.”

 When he finally mustered the courage to face Frisk again, he was flustered to find her sniffling, nearly sobbing into her mittens.

 “...i’m sorry. all that was really stupid, wasn’t it?” Sans somehow felt that her reaction was negative, and that it was his fault.

 “No. No, no, no, no. No...” She choked out, but when she lifted the cloth-clad hand away from her mouth, he spotted a shaky smile on her lips. “That... That was... just so... I just... I don’t know what to say... Just give me a few minutes, I’m sorry...”

 She managed to compose herself quickly enough, Sans patting her on the back and still feeling lousy for making her cry. Once all of her quaking and hiccupping had ceased, she gave the skeleton a look that he recognized as determined.

 “Sans, I have one last gift for you.”

 “one more?” He blinked owlishly. “frisk, you’re... you’re really spoiling me here.”

 “This has been something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while, now. I just wasn’t sure when, or if it was even conceivable at all, but...”

 “frisk, you aren’t making any sense.”

 “Just... wait here. I’ll be right back.”

 She didn’t return to the house like he thought she would. No, she stepped into the little shed about ten feet away from the bench, then returned a few seconds later holding a white package with a bright red ribbon resting on top. She gently placed the present into his waiting lap, then sat next to him again with a long, almost weary sigh.

 “Open it.” She demanded, throwing Sans slightly off guard with how uncharacteristic it was of her to do so.

 But Sans still felt the need to mess with her a little before he complied.

 “is iiiiiiit...” He tilted the box left to right, then right to left, listening for any shifting noises inside. “...a pair of green shorts with purple-flower print?!”

 “...You want a pair of Patrick Star’s trunks?”

 “hey, i’d wear ‘em.”

 “I have no doubt that you would.” She eyed those burger-covered monstrosities called kneesocks still covering his legs – Frisk almost couldn’t believe that he wore them to the party and was still wearing them; almost...

 “okay, that’s enough fooling around.” He unraveled the ribbon with one swift tug, the lid to the box gone in the blink of an eye.

 Sans peered inside the blackness of the box...

 Reset...?

 Those yellow letters stared back at him, that word and the sensation it brought, the thing he had learned to expect and fear through the horrific experience of being trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of mercy and violence by a being untouchable by time, was right before his very eye sockets.

 His head whipped up to face Frisk, his grin gone and his expression eerily blank.

 “It’s yours now.”

 It took him ages to respond.

 “.........wh-what?”

 “It’s yours now. The RESET button? It’s yours.”

 “...why did you think this would mean anything to me?” He spoke softly, sockets narrowing down to slits. “how did you know this would mean anything to me?”

 “I knew giving you this would open up an endless plethora of questions...” Frisk sighed to herself resignedly. “Here’s the short answer: the previous owner told me.”

 “the... previous... owner...” He repeated those words to himself, yet he still didn’t seem to understand them – his mind was fading to white.

 “I had a suspicion, for a long while now, that this meant something to you. That you were... more aware than you let on at times. And he- they, confirmed it for me. This button... it’s caused you a lot of trauma and heartache, even if you can’t remember all of it. And perhaps that’s for the best, really. I don’t know everything myself, but... I’ve heard enough, and my imagination is more than enough to fill in the rest of the story for me, even if I don’t want it too.”

 “papyrus... he... he died.” He whispered brokenly, holding his skull in his hands as he hunched forward. “over and over and over again. i can’t remember how or why, but i just know that he did. he shouldn’t be here now, a lot of us shouldn’t be here now, i probably shouldn’t be here now, alive, but i am. we all are...”

 “Sans, there’s nothing in the world I can say or do to produce any proof that what I’m saying is the truth and force you to believe me, but I never hurt anyone. The damage was already done by the time I came along.”

 “then who did it, huh? who killed my brother and everyone else?” Sans nearly spat, causing Frisk to flinch – what she didn’t know was, his spite wasn’t directed towards her at all; he was suspicious, yes, but...

 “I... I can’t say. Because I made a promise that I wouldn’t. But... this person, they’re very sorry for what they did in the past now, in the present. They want to make amends, to atone, but don’t know how or even if such a thing could ever be possible. Once again, I have no proof that what I’m saying is the truth, but this, it was our idea. They agreed to it, Sans, that it was only fair for you, the one most affected by this, to be the one to gain ownership of it – the RESET button.”

 “............”

 “I’ll answer any questions that you may have, about the past timelines, to the best of my abilities. Just as long as they’re not about the previous owner. But I never hurt anyone, Sans.”

 “......I know that.” He whispered.

 “You do?” She replied, deadpan.

 “i do. you don’t have to explain anything to me, frisk. i believe you.”

 She had expected him to fire off at least a million questions a millisecond, to be subjected to an interrogation, maybe even a trial by fire (with Grillby serving as the fire), or something, but not... whatever this was.

 Just... quiet acceptance that her word was the truth.

 “look... this other person, the one that had the reset button before you, i already knew about ‘em before, frisk. it’s true that when i first met you, i thought you had something to do with the resets, and i was sorta right, but not in the way i first thought. that’s why... that’s why, sometimes, i wasn’t as helpful as i could have been, not as kind as i should’ve been. the resentment that i felt for something that was beyond my control but in someone else’s, there were occasions where i took it out on you. i couldn’t understand how you could just, hurt all of us like that, and then go right back to being friends with us, like nothing ever happened, reset or not.”

 One of Sans’s skeletal hands reached up to cup her cheek, surprising her.

 “but then the more time i spent with you, i realized that some things just didn’t add up. and now i know why – you never did hurt us. i was blaming you for something that was never your fault in the first place.”

 “But you’re wrong about that, Sans – I did hurt you. I did use the RESET button. I never did hurt anyone in any of the timelines, but... you have to understand, Sans, it took me several tries to reach this ending.”

 “that doesn’t matter now.” To Frisk’s immense shock, he actually smiled, not grinned, but smiled. “whatever you may or may not have done in the past, you’ve more than made up for it with everything you’ve done in this timeline.” He patted the side of the box containing the thing he once dreaded and loathed “...including this right here.”

 “It’s your power now, Sans. At first, I considered destroying it and putting the pieces in the box as your gift. ...But then I thought that wasn’t fair to you, either. So it’s all up to you from this point onward. The decision of whether or not there’ll ever be another RESET rests all on your shoulders, because I’m satisfied with how everything’s turned out. Everyone’s happy now, and that’s all that ever mattered to me in the first place, alongside staying alive. I’m so sorry if my methods of achieving this result put you through any turmoil, though.”

 “frisk, i understand and forgive you, but... this other person, though. they may be sorry, but you also have to understand that i can’t forgive them. not unless they apologize to my face for everything they put me, paps, and the others through – even if i am the only one that has any memory left, no matter how small it is, and can comprehend just what happened then.”

 “They want to apologize to you, Sans. Desperately. They’re just... afraid to.”

 “well, tell ‘em i’m ready to listen whenever they’re ready to start talking.”

 “I’ll pass that on, Sans. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you will get an apology sooner or later.”

 “frisk, i...” He spoke after another long moment of stillness between them, clutching the box tightly. “i just... you don’t even know how much this means to me...”

 “You’re right. I don’t know, and maybe I never will, but... I can imagine. Imaging how much suffering you went through. And I won’t force you to talk about your experience, but if you ever want to, I’m here. I’ll listen.”

 That’s when whatever was left of Sans’s stoic façade faded. Frisk held out her arms, anticipating such a reaction for the last few moments, and he immediately flung himself into her hold. He sobbed into her shoulder, every single emotion he had been repressing since he came to the conclusion that he was enclosed in a vicious cycle spanning across time-space was released. She was simultaneously the first and the last person Sans ever wanted to see him like this.

 Frisk didn’t judge him for his outburst, no, she never would. His human was far too kind for that. She simply held him while he cried, stroking the back of his skull and patiently waited for the flow of tears to ebb, not caring in the slightest if they soaked her sweater. Several minutes passed like this, perhaps even hours, but Frisk never gave any indication that she wished to move. Eventually though, Sans did compose himself.

 “oh... ohhhh gosh...” His words possessed a slight slur. “that was so embarrassing...”

 “No, it wasn’t. You held all of that in for far too long.”

 “um, speaking of holding things in, frisk...” He began, but much to his surprise, Frisk just huffed.

 “Really, Sans? You’re going to make a fart joke after all this?”

 “really, frisk?” He mocked, actually feeling somewhat offended. “is that all i am to you? a bag of misery borne of time-space-related trauma, barely together bones, and ill-timed fart jokes?”

 “...Pretty much, yeah.” She replied after a beat, but her tone and expression clearly conveyed that she was joking. “In all seriousness, though, what was it that you wanted to say?”

 “well... this is something that i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but didn’t, because, well... i thought there was no point in it since i thought i didn’t have a future. but, uh, now that i know i do, there’s, um, literally nothing stopping me now, except for myself, that is. i...” He took a deep, deep breath, then sputtered all at once, “ohgoshimactuallydoingthiswaitnoicantdothisohmygo-”

 “Sans, don’t push yourself! It’s okay! Nobody’s forcing you to say anything!” Frisk almost panicked as she watched him choke and hyperventilate.

 “no, frisk; this is something i’ve gotta do!” He insisted, hands fluttering over his ribcage and spasming in different directions – if she didn’t know any better, the girl would say he was doing a killer impression of Burgerpants...

 Before she was forced to listen to Sans make any more chicken noises, the sound of what could only be described as peacocks screaming filled the air, along with the distinct crash of what was unmistakably the sound of a window shattering. The ‘peacocks’ were Mettaton and Julian screeching, and when Frisk turned her head in the direction of her house, she saw one long leg sticking out of the snow surrounded by a ring of glass.

 “Frisk, darling! I’m SO, SO, SORRYYYYYYY!!!” The robot nearly wailed. “I’ll pay for the damages; I promise I will!”

 “No, I’ll pay for the window! Agreeing to engage this fool in a dance contest was my idiotic idea in the first place!” Julian immediately added after, causing the two to squabble over who was more remorseful and who would get to repay their ambassador.

 “Sans, this is gonna have to wait until later. I have to deal with this, apparently.” Frisk patted his shoulder then offered him a hand. “You coming?”

 “nah, i think i’ll stay out here for a little while longer. maybe use some magic on these dark circles under my sockets, you know, so nobody knows i was bawling.”

 “Okay, but if you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m coming back out to check on you.” Yet another crash, followed by several more screams permeated the once quiet winter air. She groaned, then gave her echo flower pendant a few flicks to trigger the message Sans had recorded. “I know they care too, but I wish they cared like you do. You never break any windows.”

 “just because i haven’t doesn’t mean i won’t.” He grinned.

 Frisk narrowed her eyes, causing him to snort at her expression.

 “...Take some time to think about what you just said, with the screams of those two flamboyant idiots in there as your soundtrack.”

 She stomped off towards the house, and as Sans watched her retreating figure, despite the cold around him, he was left with a feeling of warmth, contentment. His SOUL felt light and fluttery, fluffy as the falling snow.

 He held the box closer towards himself, its contents something he once hated, but now loved – because it was given to him by the human he loved...

 Sans felt another round of sniffles begin, but now he was crying for an entirely different reason – he felt happy.

“if i didn’t love her before... stars, i sure do now.”

[itsclydebitches]

Honestly even if it can be interpreted that Ironwood’s fall was due to his increasing stress hitting a breaking point I highkey doubt that’s what RoosterTeeth was going for. The way he’s portrayed after his fall isn’t as a tragic hero who’s gone to far, it’s as a ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable. Of RoosterTeeth really wanted it to be a tragedy wouldn’t they have the girls take at least a little responsibility for the part they contributed to his spiral. Or at the very least have them look at him with pity and sadness instead of scorn

Yeah, I don’t think Ironwood is intended to be viewed as a sympathetic former hero going down the wrong path. I think he’s intended to be seen as the villain given these new, very heavy-handed actions: unprompted murder, working with Watts, etc. I likewise think RT is (unintentionally) writing scenes/scenarios that do make him sympathetic: Qrow also worked with Tyrian, the group’s betrayal, his kindness towards allies, etc. ... so you can see how discussing RWBY gets really confusing lol. We’ve got a show that seems to be pushing A Message rather clearly, yet simultaneously ignoring the numerous ways that they’ve contrasted that message, so the viewer is torn between what the authors want us to believe (something we have gotten evidence for once that message started to exist) vs. what we’ve seen leading up to all that. If the show were to suddenly have Yang cut her hair and loudly insist that she’s always wanted to do that, do we acknowledge the numerous times where she’s furious at losing just a few strands? The numerous times she could have cut it and just... didn’t? The many ways in which a turn towards “I hate long hair ugh thank the gods I can cut it now” wouldn’t make sense for the Yang we knew and we’ve been given no reason for this sudden change? Or do we double-down and insist this was in the works from day one? That’s Ironwood, only it’s much more significant to the story than Yang’s hairstyle. 

RT wants us to see Ironwood as the “ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable,” but they failed to write a ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable throughout Volume 7 or Volumes 3-6. Admittedly, I expected it in Episode 1 of Volume 7 just because it was the easiest route to write for non-Salem conflict. I had prepared myself for it and was ready to (somewhat) defend the decision with “Well, Ironwood has been off screen for a pretty significant amount of time. Even though we last saw him defending Weiss and presented as heroic compared to Jacques, things may have changed and we’d better hear about what those changes were.” But then... Ironwood wasn’t a dictator. He’s going to be suspicious and cruel to our heroes! He wasn’t. Hugs, information, and resources all around. He’s hurting Mantle because he doesn’t care about them! No, he’s hurting them because he believes a short term danger (hole in the wall) is preferable to wasting time when Salem may destroy another school. He thinks he can finish Amity, amass an army, and defeat her now... and the group won’t tell him otherwise. Ironwood will be controlling and authoritative! Nope again, he listens every time the group disagrees with him and only stands his ground when he has good reason to. He’s open to working with Robyn if she’ll work with him. He does work with her, while also trusting the Council on Ruby’s say-so. He listens and changes his decisions based on his trust in others, which is betrayed. Ironwood’s army is a threat to civilians, a representation of the American police! We never see anything like that. We see the army protecting people from grimm attacks and, in the most recent episode, being scared about the grimm army or acting goofy with coworkers. We likewise see the Ace Ops working through the situation for themselves and refusing to fight unless they’re attacked first - they’re not mindless soldiers. 

At every turn the characterization that would have equaled “ruthless dictator who’s tyranny was inevitable” wasn’t there, which is why this sudden turn towards it doesn’t add up. It wasn’t inevitable. Rather, wee saw it being deconstructed ...Yet RT doesn’t seem to realize that’s what they were doing, and therein lies the problem. They started writing the end product - Ironwood kills people and works with villains - without writing the setup to get him there. While writing the exact opposite, in fact. 

The general takeaway RT doesn’t know what they’re doing here. They don’t know how to write the show they want to tell. We’ve seen it numerous times before, from the bird conversation, to Ruby’s hand-to-hand, to the claim that the Ace Ops aren’t friends. Again and again we see this inability to show the audience a supposed problem (this power is scary and dangerous), a supposed flaw (Ruby as an individual needs to fight without her weapon), or a supposed difference (the Ace Ops act quite friendly towards one another and don’t obviously contrast RWBJNOR). Ironwood is just a much larger example of this. They tossed out the “ruthless dictator” like they tossed out birds, hand-to-hand, and friendship, and I’m left going, “Where did this come from?" At the end of the day, whether Ironwood’s “ruthless dictator" persona makes sense depends on if you prioritize what you’re shown in the story, or told by the cast/in the latest episode. It also depends on much you’re willing to try and read each scene fairly, rather than forcing them to fit the latest characterization/theme. Continued easy example of that: Ironwood’s “I’d have you shot” line. It’s a joke for the audience. A simple way to establish the (surface and not very serious) conflict between him and Qrow, nothing more. Yet many fans choose to read it as a serious murder threat because it fits the new “ruthless dictator” characterization. It’s easier (and more satisfying, an allure I do understand) to read things in a way that results in, “RT is writing an amazing, cohesive story” rather than “RT is writing a messy, convoluted story that continually contradicts itself.” It’s that persistent insistence that it all makes sense, it all adds up, it was all planned and foreshadowed and carefully crafted... but it’s not. 

[20ways-tokillsomeone]

In the spirit of my previous headcanon post, here are my muses as patients in my day treatment program

I’ve been hospitalized numerous times before and day treatment was a Trip so here you go. Inspired by real events, some headcanons are inspired by real people I’ve met.

MJhin:

Basically treats it like a prison

The guiet guy who has the worst mental breakdowns imaginable

drama queen

comes there dressed either like a runway model or like he just crawled out of a dumpster, no in-between

the weirdo everybody talks about during breaks

group therapy is his stage and boy does he monologue

if you befriend him? nicest person you’ll ever meet

will bring you coffee unprompted and hug you when you’re feeling down

DOMINATES art class

overall just an unstable ball of trauma and anxiety

Kayn:

If this was a class he’d be the class clown

The popular one everyone flocks to

Doesn’t know when to shut up, has a habit of talking over other people during group

Is down to party 24/7, always participates every activity with the energy of a 4 y,o on cocaine

When he is down he’s DOWN. EVERYONE notices.

A bit of a fuckboy but a friendly one

Will not tolerate backtalk, claps back, even at staff

Probably tried sneaking alcohol or drugs into the hospital once (and succeeded)

Thresh (Classic):

Literally the oldest no matter who you put him with so he’s constantly surrounded by people he views as literal children

The only one immune to Kayn’s sass simply because he is sassier than him

Generally cooperative with staff until he just doesn’t feel like it and causes a huge scene

Laughs at other people’s expense, earning him a lot of callouts and complaints

Likely picked himself one or two people to hang out with and sticks to them if he’s not isolating himself fully

The most likely to skip days or be late because he just didn’t care enough to come

Is extremely petty and spiteful and will get back at you for the tiniest things

Swain:

Doesn’t understand why he was even referred to this dumb as shit program

Thinks his psychiatrist is overexaggerating- Well, everything.

Goes there regardless because arguing with his psych led to a dead end.

Unimpressed.

Cooperative with staff but only out of pure etiquette.

Does not bond with ANYBODY save for maybe ONE person.

Judges everyone to their face, not behind their back.

Keeps his diagnoses and medications a pentagon-level secured secret.

Comes there early just to be alone for an hour before everyone else arrives.

His mental breakdowns/triggers are silent and withdrawn.

Darius:

Jock jock jock jock jock

Seriously he and the hospital gym go hand in hand

Also a major showoff

Anger issues 100%

The laid back type who hangs with his own crowd but won’t really be opposed to mingle with yours if you asked

Can snap in the blink of an eye

Gets physical real fast

Cries in the psych’s/nurse’s office after

Teases Swain often but is also best buds with him

Has a weird ass hobby that’s OOC as fuck like gardening or painting

Zed: 

Is there because the alternative was a locked ward

Is basically on probation

Problem Patient

Appears quiet but he’s snarky and cynical as fuck

Leaves in the middle of group, fucks up classes, skips days/comes in late like Thresh, pisses all over the rules

Getting him to cooperate is like herding cats

Has a major crush on Shen

Probably got into fights with Darius

The only one Kayn listens to

Will never admit he needs the help or talk about his own feelings

Shen:

Actually fucking behaves

Follows the rules and listens to staff

Absolute wreck after one on one therapy sessions but is a ray of sunshine during group therapy, happy to be helping other people with their problems and offering insight

Oblivious to Zed’s crush on him

Sometimes throws the occasional tantrum during which he acts very childlike

The ward’s favorite but also the ward’s laughingstock at the same time

Very polite and composed but laughs at the dumbest shit

the one with the braincell

Akali:

Right there with Zed and Thresh, Akali often comes late but she makes an effort to come anyway

Besties with Kayn, helps him tease the fuck out of Swain and everyone else

VERY ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT HEALING OKAY. Aggressive positivity for EVERYONE, participates in all classes like a grunge/punk cheerleader

Not the “aww it’s ok bb here’s a cupcake” but “YOU’RE A BADASS NOW PULL YOURSELF UP BITCH YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS”

Is all “eugh” at Shen to be honest but also kinda friends with him

Zed is 50/50

She’s the angry type of depressed

When she’s having an off day she’s snappy and mean, but after she feels better she will apologize

Is eating ALL the time. SHe ALWAYS has a snack in her hand, be it a bag of chips or a sandwich she made. And yes, she will share.

[aqvarius]

I hope the rmd mc for kasumi is a bit different cuz she rly be hittin on my last nerve and I don’t think she would rly v✨i✨b✨e with kasumi in her current given state

i’ve decided i need to play matsunaga and cc before getting a better sense of the eicu guys but honestly some of these recent asks feel like my own brain jumped out of my head and started sending me anon asks lmao bc i totally agree. anyway i know it’s a controversial opinion to not like the rmd mc and i’m TRYING to be fair and put aside my bias against her and try to analyse what exactly it is that i don’t like, but yeah i just don’t really find that she has romantic chemistry with the characters (that i’ve read, i.e. takado and hosho). not that anyone ever asked for this, buuuuuut this ask has basically triggered yet another mc rant so stop reading here or get ready and settle down with some popcorn lmao.

DISCLAIMER: this is all just my personal opinion! and i’m sure many of you will disagree with me. please place a “i think/believe/feel” before every claim i make as everything i say here is just my own feeling towards her. i also need to disclaim that i have only properly read takado and hosho’s routes (bc i’m still...mad at sen’s route, and i’ve only made it through one chapter of matsunaga so far) and i understand (and fully subscribe to) the idea that mcs read differently depending on the route as well. and as always, please don’t let my opinions affect your own enjoyment of any characters or titles that you love!

ALSO as i was writing this, i went back and read my previous rant about her and i realised that i’m more or less reiterating the same points i made there but in a (hopefully) more structured and slightly more developed manner whoops. 

so here’s almost 3000 words and a whole bunch of screenshots under the cut because i don’t want to spam everyone’s dashboards with my unprompted Opinions(tm).

so anyway i’ve been thinking it’s a translation/tone thing. when i have the time/energy, i might sit down and really try to analyse the actual language, but just going off my intuition, i think maybe it’s because:

1. sometimes they choose to express something idiomatically and so that tone doesn’t come across as sincere. this isn’t a real example, but let’s think about the difference in tone between “oh no!” and “yikes”. because of modern day vernacular, we kind of associate “yikes” with a sarcastic and judgmental tone, whereas “oh no!” might connote a more genuinely concerned reaction. so sometimes i think that the use of very contemporary vernacular (which, lbr, trends towards a more sarcastic tone in general bc us gen z kids are mean) results in a lack of sincerity which makes the mc come across as a little more callous and less... actually kind and nice? i did get the feeling that hlitf mc has recently swayed towards this sort of tone as well and suspected that they had the same translator (which was confirmed later in a voltage Q&A). i’m definitely #biased but i can forgive this more because we had a good amount of content with her being adorable before the tone switch so i have a pre-established impression of her in my mind. 

by the way, i just want to say that while i do have this critique, i do really admire and respect the voltage translation and localisation team (and am... super indebted to them) and i do think they do fantastic translations generally. 

anyway, i believe this linguistic issue is at least partially responsible for my personal perception of the rmd mc’s personality that i expand on in the succeeding points, but my next point has more to do with the writing and characterisation of the most recent wave of mcs.

2. rmd mc has very few visible vulnerabilities. i think this is one of my biggest qualms with the new title mcs like rmd, destind and mk but i think stories are at their best when you get to see the mc fail and be vulnerable and wallow. the reason why i love certain mcs - particularly the ones whose titles and storylines centre around their careers (hlitf, irresistible mistakes, my last first kiss, scandal, celebrity darling, kiss of revenge, sleepless, otbs, arguably msb, etc.) - is because we get to see them fail and then grow. not only that, but you often get to see the relationship between the mc and the love interest deepen in these moments. but if you have a ‘perfect’ mc, then there’s no room for growth, so plotlines are forced to fall back on drama and trauma on the love interest’s side which... is exactly what rmd and mk do. 

this is not to say that rmd mc doesn’t make mistakes, because she certainly does, but i don’t find that they’re ever genuinely serious mistakes. for example, think about hlitf mc’s repeated mistake in season 1 of going after small crimes without seeing the bigger picture and thus potentially messing up an entire investigation. they allow her that space to mess up and be completely wrong for public safety. then they give her the time to be self-reflective and run away back to nagano really think about what her mistakes are, and where to go from there. she is confronted with humbling failure, and is forced to address issues about her own pride/ego, and matures into someone who has a more nuanced idea about justice. on the other hand, rmd mc never has to (consistently, afaik) go through a genuinely humbling experience, so she her pride/ego/arrogance never gets seriously called into question. maybe this is because the premise of rmd has to do with life and death and they don’t want to make it seem like she’s directly responsible for someone’s death, but hlitf also deals with life and death issues and the mc learns that if she messes up to save one civilian, she may actually be jeopardising the lives of tens or hundreds or more. 

anyway, taking takado’s route as an example, because this was our exposure to her as a character, the most frustrating thing is the way that she tries to lecture takado that he’s wrong about his attitude towards amputations, and never actually has to personally experience the potentially disastrous consequence of putting her ideology into practice. i think i would have enjoyed the route a lot more if she had gone over his head and naively made the decision not to do an amputation and then the person ended up dying or having to have a larger section amputated all because she was like uwu we can’t just cut off people’s limbs without waiting. i think if that situation had happened, we could have seen her actually have to confront her own naiveté and realise that she’s a noob and too idealistic and that reading a lot of medical journals does not translate to having actual field experience and intuition and who is she to question him like that when she knows nothing. she only realises that omg... we may have to consider some things with something called nuance... basically when more of takado’s backstory is revealed.  

(maybe this is because i work in academia so it extra-frustrates me, but omg if i had to one-on-one mentor a student like her, i would genuinely go nuts. she reminds me of some students that some colleagues and i have had where they  “well, actually” at everything you say bc they read some stuff on reddit or twitter that has absolutely not been proven through practical application of, or research conducted through the lens of, their theory. like imagine i told my advisors “despite being experts in [their respective fields] and having written numerous very important books, you’re wrong because i don’t agree but i have never myself conducted proper research to counter that!!”)

basically i wish they treated takado’s route like kaga’s routes (bc lbr takado and kaga are maybe... the same person?). look at the self-reflection here:

and here:

she does get down on herself at times, but look at the way that she humbly accepts her mistakes. sometimes she wallows on her mistakes, as anyone would, but look at the way she examines her failures and turns that feeling of inadequacy into motivation to work harder and smarter. 

by the way, these screenshots are from his ms1 and ms2 - so pretty early on - and we get to see her learn from these mistakes because she’s allowed to make them. we also get to learn more about kaga’s strictness and his kindness because of these mistakes.

i don’t know if the whole refusal to allow rmd mc to make significant errors is a response to readers who are like “omg.... why are voltage mcs so weak, why can’t they be perfect women who never get anything wrong” but ANYWAY i just feel like they never confront or address her hubris properly. 

3. following on from point 2, i find her one-dimensional. i’ve mentioned this before in a rant, but i don’t find her to be a very deep character bc to me, she reads as mostly surface level sass. i said: “her dialogue with them often reads as like they put 100 points in “snark” and 0 points in any other personality trait” lmao. so she’s great in one-off screenshots where you can see her bite back with a very screenshottable one-liner, but i find it tiring to have 30 chapters of her just literally running her mouth. because of this constant tone that they keep giving her, i find it really difficult to see any emotional depth in her character. because she’s the perspective character, her internal dialogue is just as, if not more, important as the love interest’s external dialogue in terms of carrying the emotional weight of falling in love, and i just don’t understand how there’s any sense of two people falling in love and getting to know each other when every sentence out of her mouth is just sass. can you imagine you meet someone and you get to know them but never have any genuine conversations bc every line out of your mouth is sarcastic? like your date is opening up and telling you about some difficulties he’s going through (which i’m sure you all know is a very vulnerable and scary thing to do) and instead of being empathetic and kind and understanding, you’re just like “sucks to be you dude”. and instead of saying “you don’t need to carry everything on your shoulders”, you say “you’re STUBBORN and i’m RIGHT”. OF COURSE i’m being kind of hyperbolic here (not even that much tho, see screenshots below) but that’s basically the tone she constantly takes. 

so when takado opens up about the rina thing, instead of being like “oh shit i’ve been judging him all this time and i’m genuinely sorry because i didn’t know a thing about you and yet i’ve been running my mouth”, she says “your head is as hard as a rock ya know?” and then KEEPS GOING. 

where’s the empathy sis? where is it? i’m looking but i can’t find it.

EVEN TAKADO WAS LIKE “I WAS TRYING TO TALK SERIOUSLY ABOUT IT”

and then the writers just push off her rudeness as like “it’s okay it’s chill!! takado laughed about it afterwards and it made the issue sound insignificant!!” even tho it’s obviously an extremely traumatic thing? WHY does he even fall in love with her??? i don’t UNDERSTAND alsdkfjs she has NO FEELINGS!! i just want genuinely romantic moments... is that too much to ask... it’s called romance md...

once again, let’s compare that to hlitf mc, when she finds out about kaga’s trauma. literally the FIRST reaction she has is to consider his feelings.

without even hearing his side of the story, she defends him because she trusts him and immediately empathises with him and the first thing she does is try to understand him and where he’s coming from. 

later on, when she hears him just dismissing things and playing callous, she actually cries on his behalf, which shocks him because he’s not used to people caring about him:

isn’t that a MASSIVE difference in reaction to essentially the same character opening up about their trauma? which do you find more conducive to developing emotional intimacy? in my opinion, it’s so much easier to fall in love with someone who supports you and has your back and trusts and believes in you and tries to understand you and can have a genuinely caring conversation with you when you need it. by the way, it’s not like kaga’s mc doesn’t sass him either! they have great bantery chemistry and she shit-talks him ALL THE TIME (a lot of the time under her breath and he’s like HUH? it’s great). 

and yet... we still actively see her caring about him... instead of being like WHOOPS my tongue slipped, i can’t help that i’m naturally insubordinate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

by the way, i’m not trying to put the onus on female characters/heroines to be caring/empathetic/kind/loving. i’m putting the onus on ALL characters to be caring/empathetic/kind/loving in their own ways if we’re supposed to be convinced that they’re falling in romantic love. sure, kaga’s mc is exceptionally loving but kaga returns that love with his own ALL the time ;~~; anyway i’m gonna stop talking about them for now bc otherwise i would just completely derail and keep going on and on about them. 

anyway, back to takado, i actually find him to be more caring and loving than his mc? i actually genuinely like takado as a character and i think that real life me and him would be great together so i’m like extra offended that he’s with her rather than ME??? i would treat him so much better. 

i consider this lack of emotional depth to actually be a bigger hindrance on my enjoyment of the game than the lack of flaws thing. voltage’s recent wave of mcs with the love choice titles have been trending towards the ‘perfect woman’ type of mc, but while i have some Thoughts(tm) here and there about the other protagonists, none of them strike me as being as hard to get along with as rmd’s mc. so i’ve mentioned my issue with the masukisu mc’s weird moral boundaries (more an overall voltage issue that manifests the most strongly in her character), but i also do find that they don’t let her make big mistakes and they present her as this perfect superwoman figure with no weaknesses which like... unrelatable. but at least her banter is flirty banter and there’s a lot of chemistry there (even if it’s sometimes lacking emotional depth, as in some of kazuomi’s scenes - and that’s not her fault, that’s 100% on kazuomi lol). you can definitely understand why they’re attracted to each other at least, and you can definitely see real, deep love form between her and yuzuru the most. even though the masukisu mc is a ‘perfect woman’, the premise is designed to spark relationship conflict and the writing really helps us understand the emotional turmoil of falling in love with a target because of how much it lets the mc dwell on it. destind too basically has a perfect mc in terms of work/career, but they let her have her very glaring weaknesses and, once again, the premise forces her to address her shortcomings with regards to her idealistic view on soulmates/destiny and explores the head vs heart thing where she has to really examine her emotions and how they potentially come into conflict with her preconceptions of and preoccupation with numerical compatibility. 

thinking about it objectively, i feel like takado’s mc and mlfk ayato’s mc have a couple of similarities in the way that they don’t realise they’re in love for the longest time (although obviously childhood friends to lovers provides a better context for not realising that love - same with my boi natsume), but there’s just something lovable about mlfk’s mc that i don’t see in rmd. without going too deeply into it bc (1) i’m tired and (2) i’ve been going on about this for WAY too long now, i think that comes back to tone or writing (and possibly translation) style. i think at some point, i might actually go and compare the language in the “omg am i in love...?” scenes between takado’s mc, ayato’s mc and natsume’s mc but uh... not tonight haha. 

actually, at some point, i genuinely wondered if rmd mc was aromantic. i really just thought she did not experience romantic attraction because i literally got no sense of it through her internal monologue bc they kept pushing the whole like “i only relate to people’s ~aesthetics~” thing. and then i wondered how they were going to make an aromantic mc fall in romantic love...? because... it’s an otome game? (btw i’m not saying that aro people can’t enjoy otoge, i definitely know people who do! but there’s a big diff between someone playing an otoge vs someone being a character falling in romantic love in an otoge. but please call me out if i’m misunderstanding aromanticism!). anyway, long story short, rmd mc (takado’s especially) falling in love is absolutely unconvincing to me because i find her dialogue - both internal and external - rather unfeeling. 

these three points (1. translation that favours colloquialism over communicating emotional tone; 2. characterisation of a hubristic mc who doesn’t need to overcome significant challenges; 3. lack of emotional depth and empathy/understanding) are basically why i don’t think that she has good romantic chemistry with the love interests in romance md that i’ve read so far. i also have some very petty personal gripes (sekai...........) but they’re not relevant to this particular topic and frankly just... really petty so i don’t want to get into them here.

so anyway, long story short: i agree that i don’t think she would really vibe with kasumi in her current given state. like, they could be friends, maybe.