#Kris doubts this considerably

[lynxgriffin]

... this is your fault ...

So, does ER!Kris bite his nails? if he does, do they taste like apples does this cause any problems? Does anyone else nibble on Kris for the taste, and not because they are hungry? Has anyone else tried to nibble on Kris?

(Again: they/them please!)

While it seems likely that they might develop some nervous habits after being in the Dark World for awhile, it probably isn't biting their nails, since they've usually got those gauntlets on. And even if they did, they probably couldn't tell.

Considering getting nibbles from the Eldritch beasts still might lose them an arm or leg, Kris would probably be making liberal use of the "stop" command if any of them tried. That said, they might still get pestered this way...

But at least this way, the only thing lost is their dignity.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Okay, I'm genuinely curious about this, so here's a poll:

To elaborate somewhat - this is to gauge why people don't seem to like the Kris x Ralsei pairing, whether as romance or as a queerplatonic partnership, part of a polycule, et cetera. If you do happen to enjoy the pairing, there's no need to respond to the poll unless you're curious to see how people have voted.

I'd love it if you could elaborate on your thoughts in the tags or comments, but if you'd rather not that's okay too :) If you do decide to elaborate, please be respectful to those with differing opinions, and keep in mind that these are fictional characters in a fictional setting.

Rude or hateful responses will be blocked. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt in all cases, but I decide where that line falls, so please bear that in mind before you respond. Thanks for your consideration :)

[kenttheatreblog]

A REVIEW: Oedipus at The Oast Theatre

In Director Paul Marshall’s first production at The Oast, the character and presence of Oedipus was sensed before he spoke. On a simple but monumental set, in unsettling illumination, and with an aching musical soundscape, huge banners hang either side of the Gates of Thebes, presenting an image of a man of considerable power. It was then reflected back to us, the audience, by the chorus, the long-suffering citizens of Thebes whose fates and fortunes are shackled to Oedipus and to the whims of the tormenting gods.  

This Frank McGuiness adaptation of the classical Greek tragedy unifies the local and specific with the global, through universal themes that make the drama accessible and meaningful to contemporary audiences. We may not recognise Greek gods, but know instead the power of distant governments, wars, the logic of economic systems & viruses in our lives. The  interpretation was modern in an understated way, evoking both the power of men in suits, and our apparent need to have confidence in them, and theseemingly marginal role of women.  

Central to the drama were those with special vision or knowledge who bridge worlds and time: notably the Priest, who on behalf of all those suffering in Thebes, asks an almost god-like Oedipus to intervene, and Teiresias, the blind seer, who tries to resist answering Oedipus’ questions in knowledge of the pain and chaos that lies ahead of the truth.   

I did have a couple of issues with the adaptation.. Firstly, to unify the chorus into a single multiple voice on stage so that they can be heard, understood and appreciated artistically as a choir, is a big challenge, But for me although fragmenting the chorus into alignments with various characters was an interesting device, the collective chant of community with common fate was absent. Similarly and, possibly down to the adapted script, it seemed there was little opportunity for either Oedipus or Jocasta (in particular) to dwell reflectively on their self-doubts and intimations of doom. If they did so, it was lost in the speed of the action as further secrets and disclosures tumbled out onto the stage.   

The acting throughout was strong. King Oedipus, played by Kris Robertson, succeeded in conveying the complexities of the man Oedipus and his part within a bigger story. He held us safely in his tormented hands throughout, helping us navigate the complexities of the character, his dilemmas and fate, his part within the bigger story of humanity. As Jocasta, Victoria Whitworth mediated the narcissistic breach between Oedipus and her brother, Creon, and comforted Oedipus with words about the evidence-base for untruth of prophesies, the truth of which she then used in rhetoric to justify her own actions as suited her. She conveyed these aspects of Jocasta and her relationships with kindness, convincingly and seamlessly, and with some of Jocasta’s latent indeterminacy. There was a dignified performance by Andy Taylor as Creon (Oedipus’ brother-in-law who brings unwanted news from Apollo), and from Nick Smith as the blind priest, Teiresias, whose fore-knowledge and courage in eventually speaking truth to power was emphatically conveyed.  The Priest, who was also the chorus leader, was acted with solemnity, detachment, and grace by Fiona Dunn, and her elemental words and movements distinguished her from the crowd whilst still being part of it.  The Stranger (Nadia Higson) and Shepherd (Tom Davies) were also amalgams of the individuals and members of the chorus. The connecting of the chorus with different characters by taking up some of their lines, helped construct the unity of the drama and its concerns – e.g.state v citizens). 

This was a strong ensemble piece, and the whole team (technical and creative ) held the production and orchestrated the drama marvellously, resulting in an accomplished and imaginative presentation of a difficult play. The energy and enthusiasm of cast and crew for working together and inspiring each other was both obvious and fruitful.  The acting was strong, the lighting, set design, and Andy Leggatt’s soundscape were all very complementary to, and coherent with, the artistic interpretation of the play that the director developed with his team.  

Louise Goodbody

Oedipus (an adaptation of Sophocles’ play by Frank McGuiness) ran at The Oast Theatre 28th. Jan – 4th. Feb 2023.

[rimouskis]

Genuinely in shock that somehow we kept Rusty Tanger and Geno. Like before the off-season I was already accepting the fact that we’d lose one of them (at least).

Also somehow Raks too????

I feel like if this experience taught me anything, it's that I don't trust the media worth a damn. I am so frustrated with how this went down from every single angle, and (not to sound like a right wing nut) the media made it ten thousand times worse.

I was genuinely and seriously in "of course geno will come back :)" land when left to my own devices. it was only when I started reading the Panic Pieces from our Dear Favorite Writers that I actually got nervous. then they started publishing, like, multiple articles within 48 hours of each other, escalating in severity and fear. it was ridiculous, and so much of it was.... bunk? absolutely bungled? ill-sourced?

to me it seemed evident that some writers had lost most, if not all, inside connections that they previously had, and that tanked their "inside knowledge" considerably. now: that's not the writers' fault, but that doesn't obligate them to publish rumors, spit on 'em to shine 'em up, and call 'em likely, you know?

like, no one fucking knew about the rusty deal. which: fine, GMRH is quiet, alright, but that it took EVERYONE by surprise isn't how we're used to things going around here, and it threw off basically every reporter's estimation of how this summer would go. and THEN the tanger deal, which was like... basically unbelievable if your impression was garnered from the media (who all agreed that the pens would lose tanger this summer barring a miracle and personality replacement for kris). I was shocked, and that's when I knew something was seriously up, because I had taken some reporters' opinions earnestly and they were being proven wrong on multiple points in VERY short order, and it made their articles look kinda goofy in hindsight.

that's not to say I'm unsympathetic; I know people who have worked in News for years, some who have recently lost their jobs and livelihoods and crafts-of-30-years because of the shuttering of newspapers and traditional reporting. I know that, unfortunately, news is a business and these people need clicks. I don't doubt for a SECOND that this entire ordeal was a fantastic opportunity for them financially. I think it sucks, but it's a reality of the job, and I'm willing to understand it.

however: the geno situation got so, so, so out of control.

good god some of those articles were becoming clickbaity as shit, lol. it got pretty ridiculous at the end, and even though we ALL were sitting here like "alright cool, so geno and the pens are playing hardball with each other and using their favorite weapons on each other: The Media", that doesn't mean that those very-much-intentionally-leaked things didn't cause a ton of stress, ahaha.

I was convinced—CONVINCED—that Geno's "I'm going to free agency, you bastards" move was him DEMANDING that hextall blink first, but that doesn't change the facts that: he said he was open to testing the market, he could have gotten a great offer, and he could have taken it. I don't think he threw that threat down lightly, but I really truly honestly (my friends will tell you) believed that that move was him using the last thing in his arsenal. I could be wrong! he really could have (and by a lot of current indications, did) mean that as an earnest "fuck you, I'll go", but my poor little optimist heart was clinging onto that idea, and I will fully accept and admit that geno was absolutely waging psychological war on the pens front office, very intentionally, in an attempt to

get what he wanted(/deserved) and

make them look bad.

anyways, back to my point: I was genuinely doing really well (yay, disassociation and blind necessary optimism) if I didn't read any media pieces on the situation, and because of my belief that those pieces were written with both a lack of real knowledge of the situation (NO ONE FUCKING KNEW GENO WAS GOING TO SIGN. NO ONE LEAKED IT. NO INSIDERS. THE PENS POSTED IT.) and the intent to drive traffic during an intense and, yes, dramatic moment...

well, we'll just say that in addition to side-eyeing the fuck out of the pens front office/org, I will also be gazing upon several beat reporters skeptically for a hot minute.

[debrisyume]

I’ve seen lots of talk about Kris doesn’t seem to like Ralsei, and how we’re probably supposed to like him more than Kris to make it more clear that we’re different than them. This is an interesting idea, and I’m glad people are being more considerate of Kris’s feelings compared to the aftermath of chapter 1. However, I don’t think it’s super likely? Toby is already more than aware that not everyone loves Ralsei, so the idea that this is how we’re supposed to think of him in contrast to Kris is... weird, and I came away from chapter 2 thinking that Kris does consider him a friend. I will go into detail as to why in this post. Warning for some big Deltarune chapter 2 spoilers, including the alternate route!

Kris calls for Ralsei’s help in the Weird Route final boss, in fact, they call for him first, even though Susie comes before him in the party line, and frankly she’s the stronger one anyway, so logically she would come first, but Kris still chooses to call for Ralsei before her. 

Kris hears Ralsei encouraging them in the Game Over screen. In the UTDR universe, I highly doubt you would hear the voice of someone you don’t care for as a way to convince yourself not to stay dead.

In the normal Spamton NEO fight, Spamton offers Kris “everything he has” in exchange for their soul, and they seem to reject this because of their friends, considering how Spamton then goes “Friends?! Kris?! What are you talking about?! You don’t need friends!!”. What most people will take from this is that they’re talking about Ralsei and Susie, because they’re the friends that are with them right now, and I don’t see why that can’t be true.

The save point after Kris splits off from Susie and Ralsei describes them as missing both.

It’s already been talked about that Kris influences the actions we pick for them, such as taking the money ‘reluctantly’ or how they say they want to perish enthusiastically. People also point out when they’re acting OOC, such as Noelle saying it’s not like Kris to be pushy with her in the Weird Route. 

They also do resist some things, such as them refusing to drop the Lancer and Roulx cards, and not dropping the ball of junk the first time we tell them to do so.

Nothing like this happens when we make Kris be nice to Ralsei or hug him, so I’m inclined to think neither of those actions are OOC for Kris.

But wait, doesn’t Kris hate hugs?

Actually, they seem to really enjoy them!

I was mistaken about this myself, but Asgore never said Kris hated hugs. He’s talking specifically about the crushing bear hug he just gave them. Toriel also hugs them and I don’t think she would do that if she knew they disliked them, and she should know them better than Asgore at this point.

Let’s look at how Kris reacts to hugging the Dummy in chapter 2.

Hmm, instead of us hearing about how icky Kris felt from hugging an effigy of Ralsei, it says that there’s nothing wrong with some extra fluffiness! Remember that the narrator is in tune with Kris’s feelings and often lets us know when Kris hates doing something or doesn’t feel good about it. How else are we supposed to figure out what they want, and learn more about Kris as a person? 

Here’s the flavor text if you don’t hug the dummy. I find the phrasing really funny, it’s saying Kris up until this point was taking the ‘path of fluffiness’. That might be referring to hugging Ralsei or hugging their family. I think they just enjoying hugging fluffy goat people in general.

The flavor text here would have been a perfect moment for Toby to subtly reveal that Kris hates hugging Ralsei, but that’s not the impression you get from hugging the dummy at all. If anything, it sounds like they want to be affectionate with him, but are usually too embarrassed to...? Which is why the narration makes a point to assure that “no one’s looking”.

There are other opportunities Toby had to make it clear Kris doesn’t like Ralsei: Have someone point out they look annoyed to be giving the gift to Ralsei, make Susie say Kris looks uncomfortable when they stand close to Ralsei for long enough that he starts blushing, us having to click “Hug Ralsei” twice to show Kris is resisting the command, but none of that happens! 

I also think Kris influences the ACTs and overworld options to an extent, and what do we see there?

In the dummy battle you can only hug Ralsei or hug the dummy. I don’t think it would be there at all if Kris wasn’t considering it. (The quality is bad because I screenshotted it from a youtube video)

Let’s also look at the Berdly fight.

(I didn’t take a screenshot of the ACTs for Berdly’s fight just pretend you can see “Play Dumb” and “Play Smart” up there, also pretend you can’t see how much I suck at this game)

Kris knows exactly what to do when we click ‘Play Dumb’, in fact there’s a bunch of different ‘dumb’ things they do. They knew exactly how to spare Berdly from being his “rival” for so long, whether it’s them playing dumb or making Noelle play smart, which is why those ACTs come up.

I don’t think Pirouette would show up if Kris didn’t know how to do one, as they’re very difficult to get right (again I took this screenshot from a youtube video)

If none of this is that convincing, I get being skeptical, but I think I have something that will help:

When we shift perspectives to Susie (screenshots from a video again, I uh, never saw this scene in-game lol. I didn’t realize this was similar to the prison scene until later), she doesn’t actually listen to what we say because she can’t hear us, but her thoughts clearly influence the options!

She really doesn’t want Noelle to know ‘Susiezilla’ is a common fantasy of hers, so the only option is to lie.

She doesn’t actually ‘do something crazy’ but asks Noelle what she would do if she could do something crazy right now, showing the idea is on her mind.

Back in chapter 1, we can make Kris eat moss, and you would be forgiven for thinking they don’t actually want to eat any, but in chapter 2 they look pleased to find some with Noelle and eat it unprompted with Susie! I think the only reason ‘eat moss’ comes up at all in chapter 1 is because they were thinking about it.

This is just speculation, but I think the reason why the options for Ralsei are either “be friendly” or “be stand-offish” is because a part of Kris wants to grow closer and be better friends, while the other side of them wants to push him away. We’re ““”helping””” Kris out by making their choices for them, so they don’t have worry about being too indecisive god forbid they get to live their own life

I want to talk about the post Spamton NEO scene real quick. If you turn Ralsei into the ‘Hug Prince’ beforehand he hugs Kris in the scene, and I think it did make them feel better. They ask Susie for a hug too, and going by her reaction they don’t look upset anymore and might have even been asking as a joke (I don’t think they seriously expected a ‘yes’ from her of all people). If Kris looked like they still needed a hug (or if Ralsei’s hug made them noticeably uncomfortable), I imagine Susie would turn them down more tactfully. Either way, I don’t see why Kris asking Susie for a hug has to be taken as a rejection of Ralsei’s hug. 

(I would show more screenshots of what she said but honestly searching through all my Deltarune screenshots is really, tiring lol here’s the full scene in a youtube video. The way she reacts really came across to me as Kris doing it in a teasing way. They don’t even look at her while she’s talking to them until they ask for one, they just keep their face turned toward Ralsei. Both versions of this scene, Kris asking for a hug or Susie’s jacket, might indicate preference for Susie, but not necessarily dislike for Ralsei? It’s open to interpretation imo). 

I want to talk about another Dummy scene. Start watching during the 50 second mark in this video. We can tell Kris to ‘bite on the clothes’ here and they choose instead to bite on the cheek, right in front of Ralsei! Going by their childhood friendship with Noelle, I think when Kris tries to freak you out it’s a sign of affection :) 

That’s all I wanted to go over for now. Even discounting my personal analysis of certain things, I think I can safely conclude Kris considers Ralsei a friend. But we don’t have the full context of their relationship as of right now, so maybe something will come up later that will prove me wrong! I hope this post was interesting to read even if you disagree.

Also as a bonus:

(edit: I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAD THE SCREENSHOTS IN THE WRONG ORDER BEFORE... not that it really changes anything if Ralsei laughed first or not but I made sure to fix it)

Here’s what happens if you make Kris stay quiet during one of the Swan Ride options. I think the dialogue here is interesting. 

I’ve seen theories about how Ralsei cares about the Player more than Kris, but this dialogue makes me think otherwise. He’s outright saying he prefers it when they get to act like themselves. Combined with just how well Ralsei knows Kris (the pie recipe, their love of chocolate, how they like playing video games, and the room he made for them), I find it hard to believe Ralsei only likes the Player.

Am I trying to say everything between Kris and Ralsei should be taken at face value and that their friendship will be perfectly sweet and wholesome? Not at all. I think it’s very likely Kris has some complicated feelings regarding him, and that Ralsei might do something questionable later. However, I also think any conflict between them in future would be more interesting in the context that they care for each other. Kris’s feelings for Ralsei being more nuanced than plain dislike or indifference is just an idea I like better.

[whathappenedtodecember]

some of my chara headcanons........need to post this i've held these in my head for so long and for god knows what reason

- i like to hc that chara is the older sibling or at least same-age as asriel.....partly because the true lab's tapes' "i'd never doubt you!" and chara calling azzy a crybaby all feel like big sib ribbing to me. at the very least the way asriel admired them and kinda, like, put them on a pedestal felt like he couldn't be older than them, as opposed to kris and asriel's dynamic where asriel the big bro used the knockoff controller and took kris to get hot choco to maintain normalcy after the divorce and carried kris to school. and this is doubly interesting to me in the "everything is the same but slightly to the left" universe that deltarune is..........in DR azzy is the older sib so in UT chara is the older sib. it's just neat

- in the same vein as people connecting kris and chara's love for chocolate and knives, red eyes etc.....i like to use this to reverse engineer chara headcanons actually lsdjfsjdfh. so i hc that chara can play the piano. and azzy can sing, ofc. "his theme" is a song chara wrote for asriel a few months into their stay in the underground and the two took to singing it at any given moment, it kinda became their theme song in an endearing way.... so that's why the music box in waterfall only has the barebone melodies of the piece. those are the only parts asgore remembers from a decades-old song

more under the cut so i don't clog people's dashboards

- chara is not a native english speaker to me..........it's true that a lot of their taller vocabs are stuffs they adapted from mimicking toriel but we know they also read a Lot. i think chara primarily learned english from reading books instead of talking to people. you know how sometimes esl/efl speakers sound so formal or stiff, like theyre repeating what they see in textbooks? thats how i imagine chara talks, partly because they died young and havent finished learning english yet and partly because they just think being verbose is cool. i know a lot of efl kids think speaking english like you've swallowed an entire thesaurus is impressive. so that's how chara is to me, an esl/efl speaking kid who disliked talking to other humans and whose first actually meaningful english immersion was in the underground

- so we know toriel can cease to hit you once you've reached 2 HP, but unlike papyrus she's rusty because she hasn't had to take care of a human child for a long time before frisk fell, so she can still accidentally kill you.............i like to think this is a control she's learned to perfect when adopting chara (even though technically there wouldn't be a reason for her to fight chara, which isn't the case for the other fallen humans between frisk and chara, who she probably would have to fight so that asgore wouldn't get to them). i like to imagine she was the one who taught them the basics of monster fights and bullet patterns, and in turn she learned to be careful with them because lbr 20 HP is considerably low when compared to monsters' average HP

> in line with this headcanon and the 'chara is the older sibling' headcanon..........i like to think the 0.1 0.01 0.001 HP and so forth was partly chara's doing. this happens after the sequence where chara's memory of their childhood with asriel plays out so i can be sure that at this point chara was more 'in charge' than frisk was. plus if frisk could actually manage their HP this way they would've done it way earlier or in other fights but this only seems to happen in the fights with asriel (i have a feeling this is what happens in the photoshop flowey fight too, since it takes quite a while before you can die even when your HP bar is extremely low).

so anyway i think this was more something both chara and asriel did from muscle memory - i like to think that while toriel was more careful with chara, asriel was more.......headstrong, both because he was a child and because of his, like, general disposition. asriel always tried to be careful obv he wanted to avoid killing his sibling during playfights, but i think chara would have helped him with this by managing their HP somehow........so there'd be moments in their childhood where asriel would be panicking like 'oh no oh no i hurt chara what am i gonna do ;A;' chara would be forcing themself to stand up and give asriel thumbs up like 'hey! hey! i'm fine!! look at me i'm okay you crybaby it's going to take more than that to knock me out!!' man........theyre siblings your honour..........

- i know the timeframe doesn't match since chara and everyone who appears in game are very obviously not contemporary with each other, but it's nice to think about what it'd be like if chara grew up with the monsters we see in game......they're a weeb we know this so they'll probably go dumpster diving with alphys in search for anime. other than this activity their entire interaction with alphys is in the form of fandom wank and anime discourse. they'll really like undyne because they have so many bonding activities they can do with her........playing piano, drinking tea, geeking over knives and spears, declaring hatred over humanity

i also feel like a chara and sans friendship would be super funny in that whoever taught sans to lace his attacks with karma poisons probably could also be persuaded to teach chara the same trick to compensate for their low HP, but all chara could think about was that they now had to fight an irresistible urge to lick their knife. sans can't say he disagrees

[arcstral]

When he comes to, there is no more glaring sun to look down upon him from blue skies. No more grass-blanketed earth beneath the weight of his prone, beaten form, replaced instead with the marginally softer cushion of a cot and the taut stretch of canvas overhead. The medical tent, in obvious conclusion; with returned consciousness too comes the awareness that the ache of his sustained injuries have dulled considerably. Even before Kris lays eyes upon the winding bandages obscuring them in an aborted attempt to sit upright, no guesses are required to determine that it is the healers' doing — certainly not when he's met with the stern disapproval of one's hands on his shoulders to obstruct further movement. No moving around yet, they say, and back down he goes with little argument to give.

The burns wouldn't scar too badly, at least. That much they take care to assure him of before being left on his lonesome to fend off a growing restlessness, unwilling to allow sleep to reclaim him yet restricted from nearly all else at the moment. Blue gaze wanders in search of something, someone, believing the possibility of another's company preferable to none at all; to perhaps find his way back to the star he'd lost sight of and beg its forgiveness. The familiar scene plays out in much the same manner this time as well, begun again with the dry rasp of his voice to ply the favor of his favorite sun. "Now this is certainly a blast from the past, isn't it?"

The admittance of one certain Altean knight to the infirmary does not go unseen or unheard. His royal guard is easily singled out amidst the abundance of filled cots, even companionably assigned to the space beside his very liege. Fate no doubt possessing curious ways of bringing them together, even in states as pitiful as they are. Two swordsmen worsted by enemies who had not laid upon them a single hand, instead wielding forces of the occult hung far beyond their layman understanding; although, to the king at least his own defeat had not been one of his immeasurable disappointment.

Confined to his own bed rest beside the other man, Marth observed him until the point Kris flicked open his bleary eyes - pressed down by the insistence of two hands he could have easily shaken off. Fighting back his amusement at the sight, their gazes met afterward, and inspired even by so simple an exchange his expression softened fondly. A tightness around his eyes lifting apropos to his worries that Kris would not rouse until much later in the day.

Charmed by his flippant attitude, a quiet laugh shook Marth’s shoulders. “How could I forget? It feels as if it were only yesterday that we found ourselves here. Licking our wounds from innocent battles we were uneager to lose... But surely, I need not remind you of the worse outcomes to be had. You and I have had victories where they truly mattered. If our losses today are the greatest of all defeats, then I dare say our lot is not so bad.”

Their fortunes this year had not shown them different sights, but an unchanging outcome did not necessarily reflect two static warriors who had not improved. They were changed in other ways, weren’t they? Honed into better men by their honest natures, adapted to sweeping new developments that renewed their sense of purpose in one another. All things that made them stronger. That made Marth stronger.

In the companionable silence that followed, his next movements are conducted modestly - so subtle as not to be detected by the unwary eye - as his arms shifts away from his flank. For several near eternal heartbeats, his hand dangles in the chasm between their cots, weathering that lonely void until it found the companion it sought. Encountering the knight’s hand, he curled their fingers together loosely, and wore only the slightest of smiles to betray the secrecy they shared.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 14 is gooo

Taking a short break after this. My hands hurt. Yep

The moment Sans appeared outside of Alphys’ laboratory, he knew he was going to hate this. He took in the good ol’ Hotland ambiance – mostly rocks, lava, and being too damn hot – then kicked the snow from his slippers, brushed off his overcoat, and banged on the heavy door.

It peeked open, and a yellow snout showed in the crack. “C-come in,” a voice said apologetically.

Sans rolled his eyes as best he could. “It’s me, Al. Move it, will ya?”

“Sans!” The door flew open, and the reptilian scientist backed up to look at him fully. “It’s r-really you! I thought the h-humans g-got you!”

“They did. I got better.” The giant skeleton bobbed his head at her as he stepped inside. “How’ve ya been?”

She smiled weakly. “Um...”

He nodded and went ahead into the main area, Alphys shuffling after him. The building was three stories, constructed of brick and steel in order to keep any mishaps contained. Now that he was using his sense of smell, it stank in here; Frisk’s workroom smelled like books and priestess and green things growing, but this was something acrid that made the magic of his nose and throat sting. “I’ve been w-working,” said Alphys, somehow phrasing it as a personal fault. “W-would you like something t-to drink? His M-Majesty brought t-tea.”

Sans came to a halt as he spotted a large shape moving from the back storeroom into the nook by Alphys’ first-floor library. The King of the monsters flipped a witchlight on, and it burned so bright that Sans had to shut his eyes. The humans’ lights really were a lot dimmer. “Welcome back, Sans,” Asgore said jovially, seating himself on a couch and gesturing for the skeleton to take the biggest armchair. “It seems you’ve had quite the adventure. How are you feeling? Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks, Yer Majesty.” The larger boss monster wedged himself into the chair. “I’ve had a hell of a time. What all did the others tell ya, if I may ask?”

Asgore smiled thinly. His beard was longer than Sans remembered, and his hair looked like something had been nesting in it—as if they needed more evidence of how useless he was on his own, Sans thought. “It was quite a story,” said the King. “Would you mind telling me what happened again, please, from your perspective? But first…” He gestured over Sans’ shoulder.

Sure enough, Alphys was hovering behind him, holding something in one shaky claw. “Um,” she explained.

Sans scowled at her. “Don’t gimme that look, Al. I’m not gonna bite ya.” He extended his hand. “That’s a truth stone, right? I don’t care. I’ve got nothin’ ta hide.” Much.

“It’s m-mostly to check for any residual human m-magic that may be affecting you,” the scientist said, presumably truthfully. She allowed him to pluck the cobalt sphere from her grasp and skittered away with a speed that hurt his feelings a little. He and Alphys had never been the closest of friends, but…well, Frisk and her flagrant lack of fear had obviously spoiled him.

Crap. Whatever was in the stone was pretty damn potent, because thinking of Frisk made him want to say things that he had no intention of letting out until he absolutely had to. Asgore was suspicious enough of him having been around the High Priestess and other humans for so long; what would happen if he found out Sans had fallen for her like a ton of bricks?

“Now…” Asgore poured himself another cup. “How did you come to be in the humans’ grasp?”

Sans hadn’t minded telling Undyne all this stuff, but sitting here fiddling with the stupid rock while the King sipped his tea and watched him as if Sans was going to explode—that, he did mind. But he did it, starting with how he’d been out hunting poachers for a couple days straight without eating anything, getting weak enough to eventually be captured, and failing to kill the High Priestess when she came to make him that fateful offer.

Asgore was frowning, one hand to his chin. “She was sincere about taking you as her apprentice, with no attempt to harm you or steal your magic? Didn’t that strike you as odd?”

No shit, King Fluffybuns. “Yeah, it did, but she never even tried anything like that.” It was true; Gaster was the one who’d purloined a bunch of his magic. Sans wasn’t going to muddy the waters by bringing him up just yet. “I could tell she knew what she was talking about with the potions and stuff. She’s pretty sharp.”

“Yes, of course. Forgive me, but I want to be very clear: she subdued you without harming you, single-handedly?”

Sans’ socket twitched. “Your Majesty is correct,” he said stiffly. “She’s the High Priestess fer a reason. Her barriers are stupid powerful. I don’t think you, me, ‘n Tori put together could crack one.”

As he’d intended, the casual mention of Toriel made Asgore twitch right back. From her position behind Sans’ chair, Alphys cleared her throat nervously. “Are you s-sure? A human sh-shouldn’t—”

The skeleton held up the blue sphere, tapping it with one phalange. “Yeah, I’m positive. If humans had anythin’ like boss monsters, she’d be one fer sure.”

Asgore put down his cup. “And this extraordinary young woman also happens to be the child we knew as Kris? Is that correct?”

“Yep. She’s proven it beyond any doubt ta both me and Undyne.” Somehow, Sans doubted Asgore had made her hold the goddamned rock while she talked. “The others forced 'er to lie about bein’ a boy, but everythin’ else about her was real. She didn’t wanna leave here at all, and as soon as she got her memories back, she started figurin’ out how to come back with me. It happened sooner than we planned ‘cause the King tried ta sell some monsters out from under her. She got so pissed off that she broke the law and brought ‘em here on her own.”

“Got her memories b—ah, yes. Undyne said they were taken from her at the convent.” Asgore’s foot patted the floor a few times. “How old was she when she first visited?” he asked, with a new edge to his voice.

Sans frowned. “She said she was ten. She just looked a lot younger ‘cause they weren’t feedin’ ‘er. Why?”

Another slow pat, pat of fur on carpet. “Undyne overheard someone say the High Priestess was King Stephin’s illegitimate daughter. Do you believe this to be true?”

The giant skeleton looked at the blue stone, studying the patterns swirling in its depths. “I’ve seen how the King acts with her, and the guy I was talkin’ to had no reason ta lie. Puttin’ everything together, yeah, it makes total sense.”

There was no response. Sans glanced up. To his surprise, Asgore was staring into his teacup, his brow furrowed; the King set the cup and saucer down so hard that it sloshed all over the table. Sans had never seen him spill his tea before. “What about her other personal connections?” he asked brusquely. “Other friends and family?”

“Uh…” Sans craned his neck around to see if Alphys understood what was going on, but she was pushing her glasses up and looking at him in equal bewilderment. “Well, she’s got a bunch of half-siblings from the King, but she’s not real close with any of ‘em. One actually tried to kill ‘er while I was there.” Asgore blinked in astonishment, and Sans nodded grimly. “She doesn’t have any other family. She said ‘er mom was dead, and I haven’t had a chance t’ask her any more about it. Not many friends, just some lady she knew from school an’ a lot of guys wantin’ ta marry her.” He wrinkled his nasal ridge. “A lot of guys.”

Asgore nodded again. “I see. Thank you.” He finally noticed the puddle of tea, and used the hem of his already-stained cloak to mop it up. “You’ve spent a great deal of time with her. What do you believe are her true intentions? What does she gain from freeing monsters and antagonizing the other humans?”

“Frisk doesn’t think in terms’a what she can get, Yer Majesty,” Sans said irritably. “I know she sounds too good ta be true. I thought so, too, at first. But she really wants to help us, an’ she can do it better than anyone else. She’s already taught me how ta make fertilizer and a bunch of other stuff to improve our crop yields, and she’s got a whole plan t’get us outta slavery fer good—I’ll let ‘er lay it out for you whenever ya talk with ‘er.” He tossed the sphere from hand to hand a few times, then curled his fingers around it. “Did Undyne tell you about the farm on the river?”

The King stroked his beard. “She did, but I have difficulty believing it. I’ve seen that property myself, and I can’t fathom anyone buying it out of pure altruism.”

“’s not just altruism. She wanted t’do it before she even knew she’d been here as a kid, but now she remembers us an’ how much we all cared about her.” Asgore half-smiled in acknowledgment. With considerable effort, Sans forced himself off that tangent, concluding, “Frisk’s the real deal, Majesty. Turnin’ her down ‘cause she’s human would be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

The King sat back, eyes narrowed, and Alphys made a more-than-usually nervous sound. Sans fidgeted with the sphere. “Anythin’ else, Yer Majesty? I wanna get back home.”

Asgore’s gaze shifted from him to the diminutive scientist. “Do you have any questions, Dr. Alphys?”

For the first time, Alphys came around to stand in front of Sans. “Um…d-do you think she’d let me s-study her magic? I just c-can’t believe a human could be that p-powerful.”

Sans shrugged. “On the way here, she hid us with a barrier that kept people from seein’ or hearing me ‘n the wagons for over ten minutes straight. They couldn’t even tell the barrier was there.”

The King looked him, and at the sphere. Sans was rolling it around on his metacarpals at Alphys’ eye level, daring either of them to say he was lying. When Asgore remained silent, the scientist asked, “What else have you s-seen her do that m-most humans can’t?”

“Be a good person,” Sans mumbled, but the stone’s magic prodded him, and he had to add, “Here’s somethin’ weird. I was checkin’ on ‘er after she used up all ‘er magic on that barrier, and I ended up givin’ her a bunch of my magic by accident.”

Alphys’ jaw dropped. “You did what?” the King demanded.

Fuck. “Not like havin’ a kid or anything,” the skeleton said hurriedly. “I just…she’d been sick right before we left, so she was already a little run down, an’ I didn’t want us ta be stuck out there without ‘er magic.” That was true enough, but he had to physically stop himself from saying exactly how worried he had been. “I picked ‘er up, and next thing I knew, she was fresh as a daisy ‘n I was passing out. The exact same thing happened a few hours ago, right before I zapped us inta the Ruins.”

“I see.” Somewhat mollified, the King stroked his beard again. “Was she able to use any of your abilities, or did she convert your power into magic of her own?”

“She put a barrier up with it, so it was all her.” As he’d told Frisk way back in his prison cell, monsters were useless when it came to barriers; even if a human stole their magic and tried to use it to fuel a barrier, it wouldn’t stick. “Givin’ it away didn’t hurt me at all. It was jus’ like I’d been workin’ really hard, and I was fine the next day. I’m still a little tired from last time, but I feel like I just need ta get home ‘n go to sleep.”

“Hm.” At least Asgore looked thoughtful now, not angry or alarmed. “Has she ever passed any magic to you in a similar fashion?”

Something came into his mind and straight out his mouth: “No, but we did share a dream where she was able t’touch me, even though we were way far apart. Think that has somethin’ ta do with it?” Argh, that stupid fucking stone—

Luckily, this information didn’t seem to make as big an impression. Asgore just shook his head, looking helplessly at the scientist. “What do you think of all this, Doctor?”

“Hmmm…” The reptilian monster folded her arms. “The humans’ royal family has always had the g-gift of magic. She didn’t get any training as a ch-child, did she?” Sans shook his head. “That means it kept growing until she c-came to the Underground, and this environment p-probably stimulated it further. Humans who don’t use their magic as children will usually h-have more power as adults, and her magic didn’t manifest as anything d-destructive, so she was able to w-wait until the optimal time to learn how to use it.”

The King picked up the teapot. “How is she able to turn a monster’s power directly to her own use? And what about the shared dream?”

“I d-don’t think she’d be able to do that with a regular m-monster, Your Majesty. I think it’s because a boss monster’s S-SOUL is powerful enough that he had magic to spare, and his intention for her t-to have enough magic to p-protect them was the impetus.” She turned to Sans. “Have you been in proximity to her at another t-time when she needed m-magic and you wanted her to have m-more, or was this the first time those c-conditions existed?”

The skeleton thought it over, and had to shake his head. “Nah, this was the first time we were in that bad a situation. So, it’s not gonna keep happenin’ at random? It’s just ‘cause she needed it an’ I wanted her ta have some?” And we were cozying up? he managed not to add.

“I th-think so. It doesn’t hurt that you’ve spent so much time around each other, or that she’s been to the Underground and already l-likes monsters. Given that and your naturally strong c-capabilities, that could explain how her body was able to internalize your magic and express it for her own p-purposes. The same factors would facilitate physical c-c-contact in your dream.”

Sans nodded as calmly as he could, clamping his jaws shut as the truth spell urged him to say something about wanting to give her a lot more magic on purpose.

“Fascinating,” Asgore murmured. He absently picked something out of his beard. “All things considered, it doesn’t sound like she poses an immediate threat to any of us, and we may well benefit from her presence. Therefore, I will trust your judgment and Undyne’s, and allow her to stay for now. However, I will hold both of you responsible for her actions. Is that clear?”

“Sure, Yer Majesty.” Sans held the stone out to Alphys, who slipped into her coat pocket. “I’m gonna get goin’ now, if that’s all right.”

“Absolutely,” the King said, getting to his feet. “Welcome back.” He started to extend his hand, but withdrew it as Sans hopped up and started toward the door, hands in his pockets.

“I-I’ll see you out,” Alphys said quickly, covering the awkward moment. “If you’ll e-excuse me, Your Majesty—”

Asgore nodded, sinking back to the couch. A glance over his shoulder puzzled Sans: instead of being mad at the deliberate slight, the King was scowling and staring at nothing again, obviously back to his unhappy thoughts.

For once, Alphys went straight ahead of him, holding the door wide and closing it right behind them. “I didn’t w-want to ask this in f-front of King Asgore,” she stage-whispered up at him, and Sans obligingly knelt to hear her better. “Everything you were saying about exchanging your m-magic—are you…um…”

Sans gestured impatiently. “Spit it out, Al. Like I said, I’m not gonna—”

“A-are you in love with Frisk?!”

…Well, shit. Sans had forgotten how invested Alphys could get in any kind of narrative, and how quickly she’d pounce on any hint of romantic feelings between anyone, fictional or not. When he failed to immediately deny it, the scientist’s face nearly split in triumphant glee. “I knew it! The way y-you were going on, trying not t-to say too much—it was b-better than a whole p-play!”

“Shhh!” he hissed, though no one was even in sight, much less earshot. “Come on, Al! What would that even matter?!”

“Are you k-k-kidding me? Direct magical c-conversion doesn’t happen every day! It’s only possible between m-monsters in a reproductive context, and I’ve never heard of it at all between a monster and a h-human! Y-you gave it to her and sh-she used it twice!” The scientist slapped her own face and rocked side to side so gleefully that Sans thought she was going to keel over. “Everything I said to His M-Majesty was true, b-but there’s n-no way your magic could be interchangeable unless your SOULs had developed an incredibly strong b-b-bond!” Something like a tiny squeal. “I c-can’t b-believe this! You’ve g-g-got to promise me to b-bring her here tomorrow so I can s-see it for myself!”

“She was gonna come visit you anyway!” Sans protested. “I’m not puttin’ a show on for ya, okay? You can just study her magic!”

Alphys dropped her arms and gave him a look that made him more nervous than the entire interview with the King combined. “What?” he asked warily.

She held up one claw, then pulled a small device out of her coat. It was a square of glass set on a rod only a few inches long, framed with stones in eight colors. The scientist rubbed the white one and held it up as the glass came alive, flowing and surging within its frame like a drop of oil on water. “Hold s-still, please.”

Sans allowed Alphys to peer through the glass to check his SOUL, wishing more than ever that he could see it for himself. “How’s it lookin’?” he inquired carelessly, fooling neither of them. “What’s my LV?” A remarkably stupid question: it had been 20 for four or five years now, and LV didn't go any higher than that.

The scientist stared for so long that Sans had to reach down and tap her on the head. “Hellooo? Alphys? Ya there?”

Alphys didn’t move, except to say, faintly, “It’s 17.”

A very long pause. “I must be misunderstandin’ something,” Sans finally rumbled, “‘cause yer makin’ it sound like I lost a few LV. That doesn’t happen.”

“Be honest,” said Alphys, still staring. “How many p-people did you k-k-kill when you were with the h-humans?”

“Uh…one. Just…one. Someone who was tryin’ really hard ta murder her right in front’a me.” It was true, no matter how hard he thought about it. He hadn’t killed that group of poachers on his way back from bringing Snowdrake to the Underground, or even the fucking bastard who’d said something about her and called him names right to his face. “What does it matter? How would I even lose EXP? It’s not like I un-killed anyone!”

Alphys was starting to grin again. “I, er, w-won’t ask too many p-p-personal questions, but…do you feel…nicer when y-you’re around her?”

Sans scowled, but it was hard to keep up. “Are you sayin’ I’m gettin’ so mushy that it’s knockin’ my LV down? Remember the part where that’s literally impossible?!”

“These don’t l-lie, Sans.” The scientist waved the device at him. Sobering, she said, “I don’t th-think we should mention this to Asgore. He’s still a little, um, t-touchy about humans and m-m-monsters.”

“Agreed,” Sans mumbled.

She grimaced, and fiddled with the device, staring at the ground. “Um...d-does she still like p-plays? At all?”

Sans didn't know what to say. “If it'd make you happy, then yeah, I guess she does.”

“Hmm. I think y-you're probably right.” Alphys smiled in a quiet way he didn't usually see, then gave him that knowing look again, tucking the glass back into her coat. “I have a p-proposition for you. Just let me track your LV when you come here with Frisk tomorrow, and I won’t s-say anything strange to her about your SOULs. D-deal?”

He didn’t bother accusing her of blackmail: it was blackmail. Sans tried to look very scary, but she just folded her stubby arms at him until he stood up, said, “It’s too fuckin’ hot out here. See ya,” and was gone.

 ~

 “Wow,” said Undyne. “That’s…wow.”

“Indeed,” murmured Toriel. She took another bite of apple, dabbing her mouth with the household’s single clean napkin. “You opened the box, and reclaimed your memories?”

Frisk nodded, cheeks glowing. “It’s been very hard,” she said, unable to keep a little quaver out of her voice.

This was honestly not what she'd had in mind. She'd planned to tell Toriel everything that had happened with Sans, explaining her mission and her plans for humans and monsters, and what a peaceful future could look like; instead, the former Queen had asked a few questions about her personal life, and now Frisk couldn't stop talking about it.

Toriel took her hand, breaking her out of her guilty thoughts, and Frisk smiled at her gratefully. “I think I’ve cried more in the past week or so than I have in the past year,” the priestess confessed. Not to mention more hugs in the last three weeks than the past three years. “So far, the second fortune seems to be coming true. Making it to the Underground was one of the hardest parts, so we’ll see how my plan might work from here on. And…” She coughed. “I’m not ashamed of what else might happen, I just…”

The air in the room got a little more heavy, the silence more complicated. They were sitting around the table in the chairs Undyne had charged out to grab from someone else’s house; Frisk had been feeling so emotional in general, and so grateful to have two other women to confide in, that she’d told them nearly everything, including the fortunes and the bit about having a child very soon. Undyne was visibly working up to the giant, inevitable question of “Who?” when the boss monster shook her head. “I hope, Frisk, that you’ll think very carefully before you make any decisions of that magnitude,” Toriel said disapprovingly.

Frisk was about to answer when all three women stopped, looked at the kitchen, glanced at each other, and did a sort of collective shrug. Toriel cleared her throat. “Besides abstinence, of course, do you know the steps you should take in order to avoid that outcome?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frisk replied. Undyne looked lost, but Frisk wasn’t in the mood to explain human biology and birth control—it was awkward enough having to say why she needed to bring her bag with her to the bathroom. She also planned to never ask Toriel whether she thought a run-of-the-mill contraceptive would be sufficient against a boss monster’s magic.

“Well,” Undyne said firmly, moving on, “if it’s a big damn family you want, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Stop it, or I’m going to cry again,” Frisk scolded her, and they chuckled.

There was a more comfortable silence as they finished the last of the apples. “I hope this goes without saying, but if there is anything I can do for you while you are here, my child, you need only ask,” Toriel said, dabbing at her fur again.

“Actually,” said Frisk, “I would like a favor. We brought two wagons with us. One of them has gifts for everyone, and the other has a few provisions and my herbal supplies. Could you please check whether they’ve been inspected, and when we can go unload them?”

Toriel hesitated. Frisk understood why: it was a more official duty than Toriel had performed in a while. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” the human said, “but…”

“For you, dear, I will.” The boss monster sighed deeply. “I’d better do so now.” She folded the napkin and pushed her chair back. “Will you take her home with you, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I—” Undyne’s face fell. “Oh. Uh. Actually, my house is…”

Toriel sighed again. Frisk couldn’t help grinning. “Did you burn it down, or wreck it?”

“It was a training exercise that got too awesome,” the Captain said proudly. “I regret nothing! But, uh, I don’t have a house. I’ve been crashing with Papyrus.” She thumped the table. “Don’t worry, Frisk, I’ll stick with you. I’d do it even if His Majesty hadn’t ordered me to!”

Frisk winced, recalling what Sans had told her about the royal pair’s falling-out. A moment later, the fish monster caught herself and winced.

Sure enough, the former Queen’s hands were now gripping her robe, her eyes distant. “Did he?” she inquired. “How typical. Heaven forfend he speak to you or protect you himself, my child.” The boss monster shook her head. “You may either stay here or at the inn tonight, but starting tomorrow, my child, I’d like you to stay with me in the Ruins. You’re very welcome, too, Undyne.”

“But—” Frisk wished she could stuff the word back into her mouth as the monsters looked at her curiously. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say that that was too far from Sans. “We’ll see,” she said lamely.

Undyne nodded. Toriel studied Frisk for a moment before saying, “All right, then. I’ll check on the wagons before I head home. Good night, dear.” She got to her feet, giving Frisk another hug. “Sleep well, Undyne—” She raised her voice. “I don’t know why you’ve been lurking back there, Sans, but I hope you also sleep well.”

“Yeah, I know it’s your house, boss, but eavesdropping is creepy,” Undyne said in the kitchen’s general direction. “Good night, Your Majesty. It’s, uh…it’s good to see you again.”

Toriel smiled a little, and let herself out.

The giant skeleton emerged from the back room, grumbling something about privacy. “Oh, bullcrap,” the fish monster retorted. “It’s not our fault your magic’s so damn strong. A kid could’ve felt it when you came in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sans went into the living room and stretched out on the floor, looking at them upside down. “I see Tori got my note. Must’a woke ‘er when I knocked.”

Frisk and Undyne exchanged nods of agreement to not tell him what’d happened. “How’d it go with Asgore?” asked the latter.

“Pretty much what I expected. He made me use a damn truth stone, but at least now he knows I wasn’t lyin’ about Frisk wantin’ ta help everyone.”

Undyne scowled. “That sucks.” She sniffed. “You know what? It reeks in here. I don't mind it, but Frisk deserves better. C'mon, pu—Frisk, we're going to the inn.”

The priestess glanced at Sans, who looked as irate as she felt. “Maybe—”

“That's great. Night, boss!”

It was no use. Twelve minutes later, Frisk was staring at her reflection in the hotel's bathroom mirror, listening to Undyne's energetic nighttime routine in the next room.

The human sighed as dramatically as she could, turning out the light. Oh, well. At least she'd be able to get some sleep.

 ~

 Frisk was too tired to sleep.

For one thing, her brain just wouldn't stop berating her for not sleeping, and for being at all unhappy. She'd made it Underground! She was home! She'd hugged Toriel just a few minutes ago; Undyne was in the next room; the abused monsters were all safe with their families; Sans and Papyrus' house was in easy walking distance...

It was wonderful. It was everything she'd wanted so much as a child that she'd had to forget it to even function again.

...But she couldn't sleep, because she couldn't scoot over and curl up against her giant, grouchy apprentice, which he...probably still was? They hadn't talked about that. They hadn't talked about several things that they really should have already. She'd been exactly brave and tipsy enough the other night to convey her intentions, but that had been pretty one-sided. Just for fun, Frisk tried saying it to herself: I gave him homework to do before he can have sex with me. It...didn't sound better in her head.

She heaved a sigh and burrowed under the thick hotel pillows to escape her own thoughts. Could this situation be any more ridiculous? How many steps had they skipped in a normal courtship? Was it even a courtship if he was both desperate and terrified to touch her?

She didn't care. She just wished he was here.

Frisk must have dozed off like that, because when she sat up, the pillows tumbled off the bed. “Sans?” she whispered.

Something rustled by the door. The priestess fumbled for the lamp, but her hand encountered bone as he reached it first.

It should have been a lovely moment, but the light clicking on forced her to throw the covers over her head. Sans chuckled, giving her a little shiver. "Nice ta see you, too," he murmured.

Now Frisk was squinty and self-conscious. There had been just enough room in her satchel for her oldest, frumpiest, most easily wadded-up nightgown; she'd also forgotten to pack a hairbrush, and the hotel only had huge, saw-toothed ones for monster fur. “What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding more petulant than she meant to.

Pause. "Leavin', I guess," he said in evident displeasure.

"No!" Frisk flew out of the covers and grabbed for his wrist. "I'm sorry! Don't—"

"Hey, hey, easy," Sans said gently, sitting on the floor and smoothing her hair out of her eyes. Frisk moved over on her knees to bury her face in the white fur of his collar, and he rested his hand on her back. She missed the soft, disbelieving smile that crossed his face. "Just wanted t'check on ya. 's kinda weird bein' back in my stinky ol' bachelor pad with just me 'n Pap."

"I bet," Frisk said, petting the fur on his collar. "I wish we could find another bed big enough for you. Mine's been in that room for a couple of centuries at the very least, so it's not going anywhere."

He snorted. "I don't think my room's even big enough ta hold it. The whole room'd just be bed." They both considered this, and he said, "Honestly, I'd be okay with that," to which she had to nod agreement.

It was quiet, except for the snoring next door. "Is Papyrus still asleep?" asked Frisk.

"Yeah. I hope Tori got the wagons taken care of so we can feed 'im tomorrow." Sans lifted both pillows back onto the bed. "I'd be okay, 'cept ya went an' got me used to eatin' every day, so..."

"I'm not sorry." Frisk yawned. She was getting hungry for something more substantial than apples, but knew better than to ask. It was impossible to forget the fear of not knowing when she'd eat again; she had to remind herself that she wouldn't die from missing a couple of meals, and that the monsters had been living this way for years. If she had her way, it wouldn't be for much longer!

Sans was playing with the ends of her hair. "So..."

"Mm-hmm." Despite herself, Frisk was relaxing, her legs complaining about having to keep her upright. It'd been a very long day, and the little tugs on her scalp felt wonderful.

The giant skeleton nodded vaguely. "Alphys wants t'see ya," he mumbled. "She missed you, a'course, but she mostly doesn't believe me 'bout your magic bein' super-duper amazing." Frisk made a pleasantly indifferent sound. "And..." She felt him tense up. "You were right."

"About what?" she asked, opening her eyes, not quite looking up at him.

"Alphys checked my LV—ever heard of it?" She shook her head. "It stands for 'level of violence,' which is exactly what it sounds like. Monsters figured out how ta quantify it a long time ago, 'n mine's been 20 for years an' years. If it could go higher than that, I'd probably be in the forties or fifties by now. Well..." Deep breath. "It's gone down to 17."

"Hm." Frisk scratched her nose where a few white strands were tickling it. "Is it usually difficult to lower it?"

That must not have been the reaction Sans was looking for: he growled at her under his breath, withdrawing his hand. "It's not 'difficult,' kitten-pants, it's impossible. LV is what it is. There's no take-backs on killin' people. I shouldn't be so spoiled by livin' in a nice place with a nice lady an' nice food that I somehow got less evil. It doesn't work like that."

"You're not evil, Sans. You're not perfect, and you have done a lot of terrible things—" He grunted, and she persisted, "—but that doesn't mean you're irredeemable. If you were, you wouldn't care if you were evil or not."

He grunted again, which was not the answer she was looking for. Frisk poked his sternum. "I think you're looking at it the wrong way. You've been absorbing years of accumulated negativity down here, haven't you? What if you've been...I don't know, negating it with better emotions, or maybe sloughing it off like Gaster said? Would that account for your LV going down?"

He just shrugged, and she retaliated with more poking. "Then tell me this: did you kill anyone yesterday, before Undyne attacked you?"

His massive ribcage swelled, carrying her outward and back in as he sighed. "No. One guy said somethin' gross, so I stabbed 'im in the foot. That was it."

She believed him. "And if you'd encountered him a month ago, would you only have stabbed him in the foot?"

The orange of his eyes dimmed. "...No. I'd'a killed him an' all of his buddies, no questions asked."

"All right, then." Frisk absently ran a finger down his ribs, pausing halfway down as he twitched. Was he ticklish? "That's another thing: if your magic's poisonous, why didn't I get sick and die when you gave me some of it?"

The skeleton laughed, short and harsh, nudging her hand away. "I barely even know how ya got it in the first place, sweetheart. Don't ask me why it worked or didn't work a certain way. 'm still not okay with just goin' for it the ol'-fashioned way an' hopin' you'll be fine."

That was the second time he'd called her that. Frisk's heart was in her throat. There was no wine or home-ground advantage here; she had to jump right in. "So..." She tried to sound playful, and was pretty sure she just sounded nervous. "Is that a 'no' after all? You don't ever want to try it? I know you haven't had much chance to practice what I asked, but..."

He had stopped moving—no breathing, nothing. The priestess pulled back a little. "Sans?"

"Then what?" he rumbled.

Frisk's hackles rose. "What do you mean, 'then what'?"

"I mean, what happens if we do it 'n I don't kill ya? Then what?"

It was a reasonable question, and she'd just been telling herself they needed to talk about it. Now that she had to answer, though, her mind was a roaring blank. "...Then...that would be...good?"

His hand flattened across her back and shoulders. "Yeah. At the very least, you could cross it off the list of stuff that's gotta happen for monsters t'go free. Sucks that gettin' knocked up is part of the deal.” Snort. “Maybe it's not too late ta find someone you'd actually want the kid to look like. You've still got a zillion guys ta pick from. There's, what, a month left before the timing starts t'get—"

The priestess pushed away hard, ignoring the pain in her chest. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, sitting back to stare up at him. "Is it supposed to be some kind of joke? Or are you saying I'd sleep with anyone in order to make everything else happen?"

He blinked, realizing exactly what he'd said. "Uh. When ya put it like that..." The skeleton tried to shrug. "Heh. Nah, I was...I was just kiddin'."

"No, you weren't!" She jerked a hand upward and snapped her fingers twice, creating a bubble in which she could convey her thoughts at the proper volume. "I know what a joke sounds like, and that wasn't it!"

Sans scratched the back of his skull, bone grating on bone. "Fuck. I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean what?" Frisk was too tired and hormonal for this! "What kind of shallow, selfish, irresponsible moron do you think I am, Sans?!"

"I don't!" The giant skeleton held up his hands, scooting back against the wall. "Wouldja calm down? Yer not dumb, or shallow, or whatever, and ya gotta be the least selfish person ever! Jus' forget about it, okay?"

"No!" She glared at him till he couldn't meet her eyes. "What were you trying to say? Was it, 'Frisk, I am concerned that you're rushing a major life decision for both of us based on something someone told you at a street fair, and I would like to discuss the long-term consequences, such as the ramifications of a child being half human and half boss monster'?"

"Yes! Exactly! ...Pretty much!"

"Then why didn't you say that? Why frame it as me being a shallow, selfish, irresponsible moron?!" The pain in her chest was getting worse. "No, don't answer that! Here's a better question: are you really that insecure? Do you honestly believe that the only reason anyone could ever love you was because they had to?!"

Sans looked as if the universe had crashed to a standstill. His eyes had gone blank, and his mouth moved a little, but nothing came out.

Frisk cleared her throat and swept her hair behind her ears, face burning. "I know you can't change how you think of yourself overnight, but until you do, I'm not going to sit here and let you insult me or you like that," she said, soft but firm. "Is that understood?"

No answer. His gobsmacked expression didn't change; in fact, he wasn't moving at all.

Despite herself, Frisk wanted to laugh. Poor Sans. He hadn't expected that word, had he? Purely to snap him out of it, the priestess said, "If you really can't make up your mind, then tell me so I can find someone e—"

"No!"

It was Frisk's turn to sit very still as the echoes died away. The boss monster glanced up at the barrier. He shook his head violently, scrubbed his face in both hands, and let his head drop back against the wall. "Look, I'm...I didn't think I was still so damn scared, okay? I thought I was gettin' over it, but when we're actually talkin' about this stuff, I—"

"You don't think I'm scared? I'm the one who's having a child!" If she had to spell it out for him further, then so be it: "Listen to me, Sans. I'm not doing any of this because a fortune told me to. It just helped me figure out how to get what I already wanted. Do you understand?"

His sockets slowly widened, his entire skull reddening, and now her face was hot again. "It's your turn to say something," Frisk mumbled.

Her apprentice rolled his head sideways, eyes flicking toward her, as if he'd scare her off by looking for too long. "So...ya really..." His voice faded and didn't come back.

Frisk desperately wanted to hug him again. Instead, she sighed, rubbed her breastbone – was it heartburn? – and summoned all her priestessliness to say, "Here's what I'd like to happen, Sans. We'll still be friends, I'll be your teacher, and you'll remain my bodyguard until we both decide otherwise. If you make up your mind and decide you want more than that,you need to tell me when you're ready. I won't bother you about it again."

Sans shifted his weight, but didn't answer. The priestess turned onto her side away from him, cuddling a pillow to her midsection—stress always made her cramps worse. "It's very late. In fact, at this point, it's very early. Please go and see if the wagons have been brought in, and have the gifts and the herbal supplies moved to Snowdin. The food can be distributed wherever it's most needed." She didn't hold in a yawn. "I'm going to sleep in for as long as Undyne lets me. We'll come to your house as soon as we're both up. All right?"

No response. "All right," she said. A click of her tongue, and the barrier was gone. Frisk got under the covers, rearranging the other pillow under her head. "Turn out the light, please."

Silence. The light clicked off. She heard him move toward the bed; something smooth touched her cheek, and without thinking, Frisk reached up and clasped his forefinger. "Good night, Sans."

His hand slipped away. Her chest hurt so much that she wanted to cry again.

...He hadn't gotten up yet. Could he tell that she didn't mean the calm, logical things she'd said, and how much she wanted him to stay?

No, it wasn't his job to read her mind, and at least one of them had to be sensible about all of this. Frisk stayed quiet, burying her face in the pillow as she heard him climb to his feet.

But instead of the whisper of magic taking him away, there came a shuffling sound and a soft thump, and another shuffle and thump; a whooshing sound, the smell of leather—the boss monster was removing his slippers and his overcoat, tossing them on the floor. Frisk sat up, trying to see him in the total darkness. "Sans, what are you—"

There was a strange feeling in the air, and a sort of grunting sound, analogous to a human trying to break wind. "There. Think I got it," he said after a moment.

That was strange; he hadn't moved, but his voice sounded much closer. Thoroughly confused, Frisk edged away as he sat down on the bed. The pain in her chest had almost disappeared, but she forgot to breathe as Sans shifted even closer. The mattress creaked, and his shoulder bumped hers as he reached across her lap, resting his weight on her other side and bringing his face just a few inches away.

Frisk's heart was thumping so hard that she couldn't think straight; she didn't understand what was so different about him until she reached up to touch his cheekbone, just below the light from his sockets. Suddenly, it hit her: she could spread her fingers and cover almost the entire side of his face. "You shrunk?" she squeaked.

Sans chuckled again, and Frisk felt-lightheaded. "Ya wanted me t'work on that, right?" He placed his human-sized hand on hers. "Ta-da." Pause. "Man. It's like wearin' clothes that're way too tight. Dunno how long I can keep this up."

Still in disbelief, the priestess rubbed her thumb across his nasal ridge, feeling his breath on her forearm. That explained why his eyes were only about a foot above hers now—it was convenient, but extremely disconcerting, to say the least.

"Till then..." He took her wrist. "Here's somethin' else I wanna try."

Frisk shook her head. "What do you mean? Something like—yeep!"

"Shit!" Sans dropped her hand like a piece of red-hot metal. "Did I bite ya? 'm sorry, I—"

"No! No, I just thought..." She tried to look at her palm, which of course she couldn't in the dark, wondering if she was losing her mind.

Sans let his head drop to her shoulder; she had the impression that he was getting ahold of himself before he sat back up and reclaimed her hand. Frisk tried not to jump as it happened again: he pressed her palm to his mouth, and instead of bone, she felt something warm and soft, exactly as if he'd kissed it.

She now had no idea what to say or what to expect. It was a huge relief to be drawn safely against him, his arms winding around her, stroking her hair and down her back. "So, yeah," he murmured into her hair.

At this size, his touch was a little less gentle than usual, not as light or careful, and he was holding her tighter. Her heart was doing the glued-together thing again; like every other part of her body, it reveled in being held like this, but it wanted her to move even closer and let him squeeze her harder. "Yes?" she managed.

"So...what all did you want me t'do again? Fix the size thing, make up my mind, quit hatin' myself?" The bones of his arms and ribs were starting to dig into her as his grip tightened. "Is..." He exhaled. "I still don't like me that much, so...is two outta three okay?"

Frisk's heart soared. She put her arms around him – all the way, for once – and let him bury his face in her neck, nearly crushing her against his ribcage. He was definitely hurting her now, but she didn't care—if anything, it wasn't enough. "Maybe," she said into his shoulder, playing with the folds of his shirt, which he obviously hadn't figured out how to downscale with the rest of him. "You don't have to be as confident as Papyrus, but are you willing to at least tolerate yourself?"

The skeleton shook his head a little, as if trying to rattle the words loose, then raised it enough to say, "I 'unno. 'm pretty lazy, an' it sounds like a lotta work."

"There you go again!" Frisk tugged on the shirt for emphasis. "You're not lazy. You've done so much for me and for the other monsters—would it kill you to do something for your sake?"

A long pause, ending on a shaky sigh. "Can I start with yer sake, maybe work up to mine?"

She closed her eyes, melting a little. "Deal." It was incredibly tempting to tell him how cute he was, but she didn't want to risk embarrassing him enough to start a full-blown pout. And as long as they were doing this... "Would you turn the light back on, please?"

A short pause. "Don't wanna."

"Why?" Inspiration struck: "I know I look awful, but you can just close your eyes."

"Wha—what kind of stupid crap is that? You—"

"Ha! You see?" She poked him in a random rib. "See what it's like?"

"Ha, ha, lady," Sans growled in her ear, making her pulse flutter again. He shifted his weight without letting her go. "'s not you, dummy. 'Sides, I can see pretty well in the dark already, 'member? I just figure I look goofy as hell, all bones and then this fleshy stuff hangin' off my mouth. At least ya can't see my tongue when I've got it out."

"Your...oh." Frisk's face was even warmer. "So that's what that was." Well, that was good to know. If he was worrying about how he looked with lips on, then that meant he planned to keep them on, which meant...

"Yep. I figured it out from bein' human. Wasn't that hard." Sans ran his phalanges over her scalp, and stopped dead at the sound she made. "Wouldja knock it off? I can't think straight when ya do that."

"Do what?" A sudden, kittenish impulse made Frisk run her nail down the back of his skull.

He growled again, much deeper. "That does it." Before she could react. Sans' fingers wound themselves into her hair, metacarpals spread in a loose grasp on the back of her head. She swallowed very hard, but let him tip her face up to his and lean in. His mouth brushed her lips, the lightest touch—

Frisk made another small sound, and to her frustration, his head snapped up. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "'s not my fault I don't know what I'm doin', I'm just tryin' not ta—"

He stopped as Frisk took his head in both hands. "Nothing's wrong. Now do it again," she whispered.

With a blink, and a deep breath, Sans let her pull him down to touch mouths again, but only for a moment before he ducked his head and dropped both hands for the first time. "You know...maybe this ain't such a good idea." She'd never heard him sound like this—not angry, but so self-conscious that he couldn't bring himself to look at her, even in the dark. "There's gotta be other stuff I can do fer—"

"Sans," she said, and when his eyes cut back to her, Frisk rose on her knees, groped around for the back of his skull, and leaned down to kiss him so hard that he had to catch himself before she knocked him over. Whatever magic he was using felt real enough to her: warm and yielding, it offered just enough resistance for him to kiss her back as his arms came up again, almost shyly.

She enjoyed the slow, deliberate movements for several seconds, then paused, silently daring him to stop; she was almost immediately rewarded with a hand threading its way back into her hair, pulling hard enough for a very nice twinge of pain. His other arm circled her waist, and Frisk scowled as his head moved down again. But a moment later, something sharp grazed her neck, and she cried out, grabbing blindly to keep him there.

Luckily, Sans seemed to have gotten the point. He chuckled, an almost predatory sound; something hot and damp trailed up the curve of her throat and along her jawline, his grip on her hair holding her in place so he could lick her neck again, and again, pressing his tongue hard enough to send chills and heat racing through her.

The boss monster let his teeth drift over her skin once more, a little edge of fear sharpening the pleasure. He nipped here and there, careful to lick anywhere he'd bitten too hard, until he misjudged and made her gasp aloud. When he paused to check on her, Frisk shook her head and leaned into him, humming the tiniest bit of encouragement.

That was all the invitation he needed: the world spun as Sans lowered her to the mattress, shoving the pillows aside and discreetly hitching up his baggy trousers. Frisk allowed him to settle himself most of the way on top of her, breathing deeply into the crook of her neck and giving it a few gentle laps. "You didn't mean it, didja?" he said, barely audible.

The priestess swallowed, trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. "I don't—"

He nuzzled her cheek, his phalanges tracing her collarbone. "I know ya didn't really mean it, findin' someone else if I couldn't make up my mind, 's just kinda..."

Frisk sighed impatiently. "I meant literally everything I said except for that."

Tap, tap went his fingers on her shoulder. "Everythin', huh?"

"All of it." Frisk rested her cheek on him. Compared to the incident in the bathroom, when all that had set him off was a glimpse of bare skin, he seemed in complete control of himself; maybe that was another reason he'd wanted the lights off. Either way, she wondered what would happen now. Was he going to go back to his house right away? Cuddle with her till Undyne got up? At this time of the month, it wasn't as if they could—

"'Kay," said Sans, with a different note in his voice. He shifted upward and kissed her again, more confident. Frisk started to speak, but forgot it when his tongue flicked against her lower lip, his hand working its way under her head. Her arms draped around his shoulders as her lips parted, and the feeling of his tongue sliding into her mouth made her whole body turn to plaster itself against him.

Letting him taste her was so absorbing that it took Frisk a minute to realize what his other hand was doing. The backs of his fingers stroked down her neck and along her collarbone, but they didn't stop there; his phalanges deliberately traced the side of her breast, and she was tingling in anticipation when his hand kept right on going to her waist, reaching under her thigh to pull it up so he could—

Frisk went rigid and shoved at his clavicle. The moment her mouth was free, she emitted a steady stream of "Waitwaitwaitwait!"s that brought him up short.

Very reluctantly, he sat up, and she grabbed a pillow to hold between them as an extremely ineffectual barrier. "What the fuck?" the boss monster snarled.

She could have slapped him. "Don't give me that!" she snarled right back. "No one said we were going any further than that, and we can't right now!"

Sans was panting so hard that she could feel it heating the entire pillow. "Okay," he said, trying very poorly to sound reasonable. "Right. Asgore, destiny, can't get knocked up yet blah blah—"

Well, at least she was too angry to be embarrassed. "It's not just that! I've got my period, Sans. You know, menstruation? Did you come across it in any of my books?"

He blinked again, this time in thought. "Yeah. Is that how you say that word? I think I was drunk when I read about it." He shook his head. "So you're...what now?"

God damn it. "I'm bleeding from the exact place where you were going. It's technically possible to go ahead and have sex anyway, but I'm tired, and it already hurts a little, and it would make a horrible mess, and I would completely hate it. That's why the answer is 'no' for at least four or five more days, and then there's Asgore and destiny blah blah. Understood?"

Sans' ardor seemed to have cooled. "Yeah, I get it," he said grudgingly. "Here, close yer eyes."

Frisk thought he was trying to go in for another kiss, but a moment later, the light clicked on. From behind the pillow, she felt another strange pulse of magic. "There. Man, that's better." His clothes shuffled; when her eyes had adjusted enough to look at him, he was back to his usual stature.

She waited, very patiently, and he eventually glanced at her. "So...d'ya want me ta leave?" A beat of silence. "Forever?"

"Of course not, unless you want me to think that you're not interested anymore," Frisk said before she could stop herself.

Squint. Glare. "Is this another thing where you're makin' up stupid crap ta prove a point?" She looked away, and Sans smacked his forehead. "Shit on a brick! No, I'm not ditchin' you 'cause I can't get laid right this second! I just figured..." Squirm. "That was really...y'know..." He sat down again, face glowing. "'m sorry. Did I hurt ya?"

Frisk winced. Now that the mood was officially gone, her neck was starting to feel distinctly chewed-upon, but she didn't want to talk about that. "No, I just meant my period. It's normal to have some pain or discomfort as your body's getting rid of certain things. Basically, it's Nature's punishment for not having a baby yet."

"Wow. That sucks big time." Scratch, scratch. "So...what can I do right now to not get in any more trouble?" he asked slowly.

The priestess gave him a wan smile. "That's an excellent question, but the answer is that you're not really in trouble. If you hadn't stopped when I said to..." She drew a finger across her throat. "But you did, and the rest of it was...fine." She smiled wider, though she couldn't quite look at him. "I think we should go to sleep now."

“Agreed.” Her heart sank as Sans stuck his feet into his slippers and retrieved his overcoat. The lamp clicked off. "Don' mind me," he said abruptly, and turned onto his side, the orange light of his eyes fading.

Frisk sat there for a moment, then climbed over the second pillow, to where his head was resting on the floor. "Good night," she said, and pulled the covers loose from the foot of the bed to get under them from the wrong end.

There was no response, but she felt him reach over to touch her cheek again. She squeezed his forefinger again as his hand rested on the bed; neither of them quite let go as they lay back down, and both swiftly fell asleep.

 ~

 Bam. Babam. BambamBANG went the door.

Frisk jerked awake as light streamed in from the hallway. "What's wrong?" demanded Undyne. "Are you sick, or—"

There was a perfectly frozen moment as the Royal Guard Captain, in her fish-print pajamas and comfiest eyepatch, stared at the High Priestess, resplendent in her rumpled nightgown and a severe case of bed-head, and then at the bleary skeleton on the floor. Then there was no skeleton on the floor, only Frisk reaching for the lamp. Undyne blinked. "Uh..."

"Good morning," Frisk said, not being casual or sheepish, because why would she? "What time is it?"

Undyne scratched her neck, sweeping her loose hair aside. "It's almost eight o'clock. Don't expect me to let you sleep this late again." She glanced at the floor, as if doubting herself. "Rough night?"

Frisk looked at her, and she said, "Yes."

"That sucks." The fish monster came into the room and opened Frisk's satchel. "Not a lot to pick from, is there? You could borrow some of my stuff, but I don't think anything would fit. You're still pretty shrimpy."

"I'd argue if I could." Frisk yawned. "I'll see if I can go shopping later. In the meantime, I should have at least one clean outfit left."

Undyne did a quick, professional sniff test, locating the gown in question and turning to hand it to her. "Here. We've got a busy day. The wagons are ready to be unloaded, and I already had 'em take out...the food...for. Uh." Her eye widened. "That's...wow."

The priestess had been feeling fairly confident that she'd avoided any awkward questions for the moment, though she was dreading the hints Undyne would drop when they got to Sans' house; that wisp of security evaporated under the Captain's stare. "Wow," she said again. "I...damn! Seriously?!"

Frisk had no idea what she—oh. Oh, God. Oh, no. No no no no no—

Undyne had the decency to let Frisk run to the bathroom and stare at herself in the mirror for the count of twenty; then she sauntered in, allowing the human time to snatch her collar up to her chin. "Yep," said Undyne. "Here's your dress." She set it on the counter.

Frisk had another pathetic little hope that that was it, until she glanced in the mirror and saw that her friend's face was completely contorted with the effort of not grinning her giant, toothy, giant grin all over the place. "Really?" Undyne asked rhetorically.

"Shut up." Frisk stared dully at the bruises and occasional tooth mark ringing her neck. "Please, please shut up."

"Pffft! Like I have to say anything!"

"Shut up, please!"

Undyne was shaking her head, not as a threat so much as sheer disbelief. "I—seriously? No offense, but, Sans? I don't believe this!" Her grin faded a little. "Well...” She shrugged. “Not that it's anyone else's business, but just so you know, this is gonna mess some people up pretty bad." The grin faded to a smirk. "There's no way we can tell Her Majesty about this, or she'll turn him into a million toothpicks." It faded a little more. "I dunno how serious you guys are, but..." The smile was gone. "I don't think His Majesty would take it that well."

"Undyne, please don't tell anyone yet," Frisk said urgently. "Sans and I agreed not to let things get too far before I've spoken to Asgore about a peace treaty, and don't give me that look! This is as far as we got!"

The Captain held up her hands. "All right! All right! I know how serious you are about makin' peace, and about all of us. I won't mess that up." She straightened and gave a sort of salute, looking very stern in her pajamas and comfiest eyepatch. "My lips are sealed."

The High Priestess nodded. "Thank you." She examined her neck again in the mirror. Undyne closed the door, still shaking her head; when she was gone, Frisk finally permitted herself to smile.

[rosesgonerogue]

Let the Sunshine In Chapter 4

AO3

He was gone. Marinette wasn’t sure how or when, but when she woke up, Jay  was gone, the destroyed house standing as the only evidence that he had actually been there.

She didn’t know what she had expected from the situation. Logically, Marinette knew that Jay couldn’t have stayed long-term. It didn’t make sense, it’s not like she could have let him stay on her couch for the rest of their lives. She couldn’t help but worry though. He wasn’t recovered, not by a long shot. She would be thinking and worrying about him for potentially the rest of her life. 

Even more, though, Marinette burned with questions that now would likely never be answered about him. After Robin had died, Marinette had lost much of her curiosity. She didn’t feel the need to know what her friends were up to at any given time, and sometimes she struggled to stay engaged in their lives. She loved them, she just didn’t have much left to give. 

But with Jay, Marinette was feeling the sparks of that same… nosiness, that same curiosity that she could have sworn died with Robin. But for some unidentifiable, irrational reason, she also trusted him innately. Something deep in her whispered that he was someone important to her, and he needed help. He needed help, but he ran away before she could give it to him. 

The kwamii gave her some space to come to terms with things before she forced herself to her feet.  Cleaning up the house, Marinette methodically separated the damaged things into piles of things to be repaired later, and things that would simply be replaced. She likely could have used the Miraculous Cure, but at the moment she needed the mindless action to ground her. 

It took the majority of the morning and the early afternoon to clean up the room. She should have used the rest of her day working on her commissions, but they would have to wait a while longer. She was fairly sure she couldn’t  handle anything that took considerable mental exertion. 

By some act of mercy, there were no akuma attacks that night. Marinette spent the time trying to bury the emotions that Jay had brought with him. 

It wasn’t working well. 

The next morning, her reprieve was over. She was woken bright and early by an akuma alarm. After so many years, it was routine at this point, and she rushed out to take care of things. 

Marinette should have been able to handle it with no problem. She had dealt with more difficult akuma alone, it was a simple case of indignation over the shortcomings of the mailing system. This was one of the most visually distressing akumas yet, and whenever she ended up finding Hawkmoth, she would definitely inform him that envelopes and stamps were not acceptable clothing material. Once she stripped him of his Miraculous, of course. 

After a particularly nasty collision with a mailbox, Marinette found herself whisked away by Chat Noir. “Are you okay, M’Lady?” 

“Sorry Kitty, I’m a little stuck in my head today.” Ladybug shook her arms out, hoping she would loosen up. “I’ll be okay now.” 

“Are you sure?” Chat Noir looked more concerned about her than he had in years. “I can handle this one alone as long as you purify it.” 

“No, we’re partners.” She shoved herself to her feet. “Let’s go save Paris.”

She could see that his doubt and concern lingered, but he smiled anyway, holding out a hand. “Shall we?” 

“Absolutely. Let’s do this.” 

As she was steeling herself to face the akuma once more, she and Chat Noir were startled by the foreign sound of a gunshot. In that moment she was finally able to push away her lingering emotions, because someone had decided to bring a gun to an akuma fight. 

She and Chat Noir rushed to where they had left the flurry of miscellaneous postage items to find the akuma clutching a shoulder, shocked. “He asked me questions about Hawkmoth, and when I didn’t have answers he shot me!”

The two heroes exchanged looks. They’d seen their share of vigilantism in Paris, but none to this degree. It was concerning, to say the least, but they didn’t have the time at the moment to track him down, and there was no trace of the man. It made more sense for them to prepare and gather what information they could. For now, there was an akuma to purify - and a civilian to heal. Thank goodness for the Miraculous Cure.

The customary swarm of ladybugs was new for Jason. A few blocks away he watched everything that was going on from behind a dumpster. Ladybug and Chat Noir really were no joke, even with whatever had been going on with Ladybug earlier.

He didn’t know how he felt about akuma. It was unsettling how easily controlled these people were. If it was truly based off of emotions, then Jason was a ticking time bomb with the anger that only seemed to get worse every hour since he’d left Marinette. He hoped she was safe and happy, and-

No! It had only been a few hours, and here he was ruminating on the Parisian saint. He didn’t have time for this, he had things to see to, like getting an actual vigilante costume. 

Bruce, being Bruce, had supply houses all around the world, including one in Paris. Jason had visited to get a few guns, a good deal of money, and some food, but the only vigilante clothing options were either the original Robin suit (which was tiny and also awful) and a batsuit (which was a definite no). 

It was definitely time to make a name for himself now. That meant he needed a look to match. Pulling off the paper bag he’d been using to conceal his identity, Jason ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to look as professional as possible while wearing the pajamas Marinette had given him. He probably should have made finding shoes a priority, but it was too late now. 

His destination was a tailor’s shop that advertised custom jobs for reasonable prices. If they couldn’t do it, they might know who could. The secretary was clearly judging him from the moment he stepped in, but Jason couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He looked down at his hand, where he’d scribbled some French phrases. “Bonjour,” he said, before going on to massacre every syllable that followed. 

Unimpressed, the secretary said, “I can speak English. What do you want from me, American?” 

“I’d like to commission a few bulletproof pieces, if you can do that.” 

The secretary gave a long, weary sigh. “‘Zis is a store for custom suits and tuxedos. We do not make anything bulletproof.”

“Have you considered it?  It sounds quite lucrative to me.” 

This time, the secretary simply pretended she didn’t hear him. “Check with a freelance designer, they would likely be closer to what you want. This one is fairly talented, and she likes a challenge. You can send a mail order form with specifications of what you want, or you can do it through her website. Now begone, we have work to do.” 

Jason accepted the business card the woman offered before allowing himself to be ushered out of the store.Outside, he checked out the card. It was simple, elegant with a dash of pink thrown in. He didn’t know who this MDC was, but it was worth talking to her, at the very least.

Taglist: 

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[girlbossdad]

@soulcaging asks : kris crosses their arms as they look over queen, as if to judge how she looks, studying her carefully... before... "do you have a second smaller head in your mouth?" they forget to mention she reminds them of a xenomorph. but like, a xenomorph in kneehigh boots. they lean a little closer, barely noticeable. "can i see it?"

             eyes pivot from previous expense to now bore into the knight's own lack thereof , hidden beneath bangs that cascade doubt along stoic features . such rigorous curiosity envelopes her stead , canvases unspoken curves &&. integrates beyond motherboards that seemingly fry beneath her sightline . belfry toils a visage that abstains from their question , etching smile wider than anything humanly possible .

                               ❛ - smaller head ? OH ha ha ha ha hoo haa haa ! what a funny notion , light nerd . no but my husband would know something more like that . - ❜ a hand plasters to lips , smothering another laugh , bold &&. proud as the last . fanning herself attempts to smolder the remnants of a fawning experience . a lightner — fixated on a woman's tongue ? literally gross .

             it takes the spread of those fingers up to a temple for her gaze to grow minutely irate , if only frustrated with the protest of their consideration being to confirm their suspicions . wait , were they serious ? maybe she hadn't enough to drink yet — was this just their adolescence talking ? or perhaps inexperience with women in general . . .

                               ❛ - y'know kris , it's really rude to like , ask a lady of her personal preferences . &&. stuff . - ❜ especially regarding her bodily cumbrances . a hand moves , hefting its back under breast to lift it almost antagonistically . ❛ - you've denied my bosom once before , what makes you think i'd alleviate my hinderances with you in regards to other assets ? - ❜

             that's when a sweat breaks , brow heavy with guilt . ❛ - besides , i'm not an adultery type of gal . - ❜

[rajrag66]

Indian Expeditions Down Under

There is a certain allure to cricket played in Australia. This could be attributed to the massive iconic venues, sunny weather when it is cold and dreary in most parts of the world, revolutionary television coverage pioneered by channel 9 and sporting wickets.

As the test series gets under way in Sydney with the 1st ever day and night match between the two countries, my mind goes back to the battles waged down under since I started following cricket in the 70s. The Aussies were practically invincible at home for most of that decade as they humiliated their bitter rivals England in 74-75 & the mighty Windies in 76-76. I still recall hearing about the exploits of Lillie, Thompson & the Chappell brothers through the crisp commentary of  Alan McGilvray & Jim Maxwell on Radio Australia short wave.

There had been only 2 previous tours by India to Australia in 1947-48 & 1967-68. On both occasions, the hosts had won 4-0. Therefore history was against the tourists, when they visited Australia at the end of 1977 after  a gap of 10 years, However India were up against a severely weakened team due to the exodus to Kerry Packer’s world series cricket. Only Thompson resisted the temptation of joining the Packer bandwagon and a 41- year old Simpson was recalled after several years of retirement to captain a young and virtually unknown team. It still turned out to be a close series with Australia winning 3-2. Simpson apart from marshalling his young troops well, also scored an epic 176 in the 2nd test at Perth and 100 in the final test in Adelaide with 539 runs in the series. Australia won the first 2 matches at Brisbane and Perth narrowly by 16 runs & 2 wickets respectively. Tony Mann became only the second batsman in test history to score a century as a night watchman at Perth.  India came back strongly with thumping wins at Melbourne & Sydney, as the Indian spin trio of Bedi (captain), Chandra & Prasanna wove their magic for the last time in their illustrious careers. Chandra picked up 12 wickets at Melbourne as he bowled India to victory. The final test at Adelaide went down to the wire with Australia romping home by 47 runs as India almost reached the massive 493 set for victory.  India felt the absence of a genuine fast bowler and in hindsight could have included Kapil Dev who was just making his mark in domestic cricket. Gavaskar scored 3 consecutive centuries and was well supported by Vishwanath and Mohinder Amarnath, all three finished with over 400 runs in the series. The Aussies uncovered a number of new talents during that series such as Peter Toohey, Rick Darling, Wayne Clarke, Graham Yallop, Gary Cozier & Craig Sarjeant.

The Packer boys had come back by the time India toured next in 1980-81. Thompson & Ian Chappell were no longer playing, but the home team had Len Pascoe, Alan Border, Kim Hughes, Graeme Wood  & Rodney Hogg to support stalwarts such as Greg Chappell, Lillie & Walters. The tourists made a shaky start losing easily in Sydney and scrapping through to a draw in Adelaide. Sandeep Patil was the hero at Adelaide with a blistering 174 after being knocked down by Len Pasco in the previous match. India defied expectations with a thrilling victory in the 3rd test at Melbourne to draw the series. Vishwanath whose place in the team was in doubt, silenced his critics with a brilliant century at the MCG. Gavaskar almost forfeited the match when he forced his partner Chetan Chauhan to walk off the field after an altercation with the opposition following a doubtful LBW decision. Luckily the manager Wing Commander Durrani intervened to cool things down. Chauhan who had a brilliant series was unlucky to miss out yet again on a well-deserved century. India successfully defended a meagre target of 142 thanks to the brilliance of Kapil Dev who braved a knee problem with pain killer injections to finish with figures of 5 for 28 as Australia was skittled out for 83. Kapil was ably supported by Dilip Doshi and Karsan Ghavri who bowled Greg Chappell round his legs in the 2nd innings. In addition to the test series, there was also a tri-series ODI competition featuring New Zealand as well. As was expected, the Indians who were still finding their feet in limited-over cricket did not fare well in this series. It was a treat to see the highlights brought by channel 9  for the first time during the 80-81 series. Even in those early days, their coverage was really innovative and brought out a different dimension to watching the game on TV.

After a gap of 5 years, India toured again in 1985-86. At the beginning of 1985, India stunned the cricketing world again in the ODIs. Following on from their shock win in the 1983 world cup, they won the world championship of cricket which was likely a mini-world cup  and held to mark the 150th anniversary of the European settlement in Victoria. The enduring image of the win was the Indian team going around the MCG ground after easily winning the final against Pakistan, in the Audi car won by Ravi Shastri who was declared the champion of champions. We were privileged to watch most of the matches in that tournament live and by then the channel 9 coverage had evolved considerably. Messers Greig, Lawry & Benaud delighted Indian fans with their magnificent commentary and insight into the game.

The 1985-86 tour was a tale of missed opportunities as India could not get over the line in at least 2 matches. They were foiled by some stoic resistance from the Aussies especially the captain Allan Border. Gavaskar scored 2 centuries and others like Amarnath & Srikkanth piled on the runs against a relatively weak attack. Craig McDermott was the only potent bowler on the Aussie side and they were still in a rebuilding phase after Kim Hughes had quit  the previous summer. Steve Waugh made his debut in the 2nd test and showed early glimpses of his talent . The other newcomers like  David Boon, Geoff Marsh and the beanpole like fast bowler Bruce Reid were to be become mainstays of the team in future years. India did very well in the ODI tri-series which also featured the Kiwis. They however could not beat the Aussies in the finals.

The next series in 1991-92 was quite a let-down for the Indian team which could not quite match a strong home side led by Allan Border with experienced cricketers like Boon, Marsh, McDermott, Merv Highes & Dean Jones. Mark Taylor who was establishing himself in the team had a brilliant series with 422 runs second only to David Boon who finished with 556 runs. Shane Warne had the most inauspicious start to his career at Sydney and his bowling was taken to the cleaners by Ravi Shastri who scored a double century. The saving grace for India was the batting of Tendulkar who displayed his prodigious talent in no small measure with 2 brilliant centuries.The other big gain for India during the tour was the emergence of Srinath as a genuine quick bowler following in the footsteps of Kapil Dev who still a force to reckon with on the tour capturing 25 wickets. Manoj Prabhakar also ended with a creditable haul of 19 wickets. In the tri-series which followed also featured the West Indies, India managed to reach the finals but were no match for the Aussies who won easily. Kris Srikkanth won 2 player of the match awards during this tournament on the last international tour of his career. The world cup which was the climax of a long Australian summer was also a disappointment, with the only bright spark for India being the victory against the eventual winners Pakistan. 

India had to wait almost 9 years for their next tour in 1999-2000. This was a very low-key series and the Indian team led by Tendulkar was no match for the Aussies. Bret Lee who was at his peak  broke the left thumb of the Indian opener Sadagopan Ramesh and along with McGrath proved lethal for the Indian battsman. India lost all 3 tests by huge margins despite Tendulkar’s determined displays. Ponting, Langer, Waugh & Gilchrist dominated the Indian bowling.The tri-series one-dayers featuring Pakistan were equally disastrous with India notching a solitary win in 8 matches.

The tour in 2003 was a watershed in India’ test history abroad. Well led by Sourav Ganguly, India proved they were no pushovers any more overseas. Ganguly set the tone for the Indian performance by scoring a brilliant 144 in the first test at Brisbane, which was drawn. Rahul Dravid’s brilliant double century to match Ricky Ponting who achieved the same feat and 6 for 41 by Ajith Agarkar helped them register a historic win in Adelaide. Australia came back strongly to win the next test at Melbourne. India almost won the final test at Sydney, which was Steve Waugh’s last match and he signed off with 80 in the 2nd innings. India had earlier posted a mammoth 705 for 7 in the 1st innings thanks to 241 from Tendulkar and 178 from Laxman.

It was mixed bag in 2007-08 and the tour was shrouded in controversy The second test in Sydney marred by poor umpiring decisions against the visitors, also saw the Monkeygate scandal when Harbhajan Singh was charged with racial abuse against Andrew Symonds. Harbhajan was suspended from the next test, which  was revoked after  a protest by India. Steve Bucknor who made some contentious decisions was stood down by the ICC from the next match at Perth, which also created a controversy. The Sydney test had a dramatic climax, with Michael Clarke getting 3 wickets in the last over of the game. India went into the Perth test  down 0-2  after losing the 1st test at Melbourne by a massive 371 runs and the 2nd test at Sydney by 122 runs despite gaining a substantial  1st innings lead. The tourists stayed alive in the series winning the Perth test  mainly due to some splendid bowling by the young Ishant Sharma. His spell in Perth against Ponting arguably the best batsman in the world at the time is still a vivid memory. Sehwag made a triumphant comeback with 151 in the last test in Adelaide, which ended in a draw. Laxman who relished batting on the hard wickets continued his dominance over the Australia bowlers. He finished 2nd in the batting averages after Tendulkar who got over 500 runs with 2 centuries. Kumble’s leadership during a difficult series was commendable and he also led the bowling averages with 20 wickets second only to Brett Lee with 24 wickets. India lost the series 1-2, but had the consolation of winning the tri-series that followed, which also featured Sri Lanka.

The tour in 2011-12 was a rather forgettable affair and capped a miserable year following India’s crushing defeat in England that summer. Two legends Dravid & Laxman retired after the Aussie series. They will be remembered as much for exemplary conduct as for their sublime batting skills. Their record match winning 376 run 5th wicket partnership in Eden Gardens against Steve Waugh’s men in 2001 is the best in Indian test history. The 2011-12 series also saw the coming of age of Virat Kohli who resurrected his career with a brilliant 116 in the last test at Adelaide. This could not prevent India reeling to a 4th loss and a series whitewash. They also finished last in the tr-series also featuring Sri Lanka.

The 2014 test series was preceded by the one of the biggest tragedies in cricketing history. The young and promising life of Philip Hughes was cruelly cut short after he died following a head injury during a Sheffield shield match. The series was slightly delayed and itinerary rearranged as this extremely unfortunate event cast a pall of gloom. India almost pulled off a sensational win in the 1st test at Adelaide chasing 364 to win falling short by only 49 runs. Credit for this goes to Virat Kohli who scored a sensational 141 to add to his 115 in the first innings. Kohli also deputised as captain for the injured Dhoni, before taking over on a permanent basis after the 3rd test at Melbourne when Dhoni announced his retirement from test cricket. Murali Vijay was another big success scoring a century in the 2nd test as well as coming close to 3 figures on two other occasions with 99 &  80. India drew the last 2 tests after  losses at Adelaide & Brisbane. India had a disappointing tri-series featuring England, losing 3 of the 4 matches. They also failed to defend the world cup held in Australia in 2015, losing convincingly to the hosts in the semis after a promising run including a quarter-final win over Pakistan.

India created history during the 2018-19 tour by finally winning a test series in Australia 2-1. The biggest hero from an Indian point of view was Cheteshwar Pujara who ended with 3 centuries including a brilliant 199 in the last test at Sydney. He was ably supported by Kohli, debutant Mayank Agarwal & the young Rishabh Pant who also got a century in the last test when India scored a mammoth 622 for 7 in the 1st innings. Bumrah was sensational with the ball and was ably supported by Shami & Kuldeep Yadav. India also won the ODI series that followed the tests 2-1 ending possibly one of their best ever overseas tours. The only slight disappointment was the absence of Warner & Smith who were serving their suspension due to the ball tampering incident in South Africa. This should not detract from the merit of India’s performance.

It has been bit of a roller coaster ride for the Indian team down under over the years. In the same vein, they had a fairly rough start in the ODI series this time, salvaging some pride in the last match after losing the series. However they made up with a brilliant 2-1 victory in the T20s, which saw a new star in the horizon in the form of the debutant T.Natarajan. Kohli who was in top form in the T20s, will be missed both as a captain and batsman when he is away on paternity leave after the 2nd test. The experience of Pujara and Rahane will be needed in the absence of Kohli. India will also be hoping that the younger batsmen like Mayank Agarwal and Shubman Gill make a substantial contribution. Ishant Sharma who has been a star against Austraia will also be sadly missed, but hopefully Bumrah and Shami  will repeat their performance from last time. Fans on both sides will be hoping that this rivalry which is the next biggest after the Ashes lives up to its billing.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 31: Antidote (Trial 47)

Word count: 1873

Chapter warnings: Mild language and themes

-----

       "[Dare] 47: Create an antidote." She read out in befuddlement. Admittedly, most of the challenges were presented with little to no context, but this one's title was already concerning.

       "I assume there's extra text?" Kyungsoo asked. His prediction was correct.

       "Yeah, it says, 'One of the players has consumed a poison of considerable strength. The players will be given approximately one hour to create an antidote."

       "Wait, who's eaten recently?" Suho asked, looking around. None of the boys said anything. "We're going to find out sooner or later." He continued impatiently. Still nothing.

       "Wait, who's the limited power?" Sehun asked. Without even looking at the screen, nearly all of the other boys along with Y/N mumbled,

       "Lay." It would make sense, obviously, as his healing powers would have proven more than useful for a situation like this. And without Tao, the results of the limitation could be... less than desirable.

       "We can't create an antidote without a recipe. Or at the very least a knowledge of what substance was put in the food." Kyungsoo pointed out. Chanyeol was quick to mention,

       "But if we don't know who ate it, we don't know exactly what was poisoned, or what was in it, or anything."

       "We could try creating an antidote that would cure most general forms of poison?" Kyungsoo offered.

       "Or it could react badly and make it worse." Kai pointed out.

       "We could, uh..." Y/N didn't want to say it, as it hadn't turned out so well the last time. "We could ask for assistance. In the search bar."

       "We haven't taken the time to think out other options, though." Suho countered.

       "It's not like we have a lot of time to begin with," Kris said impatiently. "One of us is dying here, and we don't even know who."

       "Just... give me a minute to think." Well, one minute turned out to be more like ten minutes as Suho paced around. Kyungsoo was also deep in some sort of logical process, no doubt convoluted beyond his own understanding at this point. Lay leaned back against the wall, sliding down as his head tilted back, eyes shut. Unsure of where else she could be of help, she chose to go talk to him.

       "Hey, uh... everything all good?" She asked, sitting against the wall next to him. Audibly trying to swallow, he nodded.

       "Yeah, it's just..." Before he even finished, he was staring up at the ceiling, not saying anything. She wasn't sure if he had zoned out, fallen asleep with his eyes open, or what. Touching his arm lightly, he jerked away from her, looking surprised at his own actions. She figured she'd just startled him, until his arm moved involuntarily a second time.

       "S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

       "It's fine." She said without a second thought into the matter. "You were saying?"

       "Huh?" He tried to think back to the question. "Oh, I'm alright, I just have this splitting headache..."

       "It seems like you haven't been feeling all that great." She pointed out. Laughing weakly he shrugged.

       "Yeah, well... Has anyone?"

       "Fair." Before she could continue, Kris groaned from where he'd been peeling off paint from the wall.

       "This is ridiculous. One of us is probably dying and we're just sitting here."

       "It could be Lay." Chen pointed out, strangely more perceptive than she was used to. "He's been kinda iffy. Y/N just said so, even." She had forgotten that in such a quiet atmosphere, people were bound to listen in. Still, they weren't wrong.

       "Lay?" She asked. He shook his head.

       "That's impossible. I barely ate at all, and what I did was given to me and you. I made it myself, there was no difference. If anything, you added extra sugar to yours, so you should be the one that got sick. It's not me."

       "It's getting old." Suho growled out of nowhere, receding back into his occasionally-angry personality that only seemed to arise in certain situations. "Everyone is going to tell us everything they've eaten today, and we'll decide from there." Starting in order, most of the boys had eaten breakfast together, meaning they'd consumed the same food. Xiumin had also eaten a roll from the kitchen, so it could have been him. When they got around to Baekhyun, though, they quickly realized what had happened.

       "I ate breakfast with everyone, and then I had an extra drink before we left, and then I ate a cookie that I found on the drum kit, and-"

       "You what?!" Suho asked, putting a hand to his face. "That is so obviously it, are you kidding me?"

       "Why were you even eating food that was just lying around?" Kai asked, visibly disgusted. Baekhyun shrugged, unsure why everyone was freaking out.

       "It was a perfectly good cookie."

       "Evidently it wasn't, seeing as how it is full of poison." Kyungsoo exclaimed in exasperation. Baekhyun could only do so many stupid things before one of them came back to bite him. It was all the group could do not to be thankful that it was to his own detriment rather than theirs. Still, now they had to fix it. "Is there any of it left?" The man asked in some tiny semblance of hope.

       "Why would I leave any of it??" He asked in confusion, nearly driving the other man to madness just out of sheer uncaring regarding the situation.

       "Suho. I don't think we have a choice." Kyungsoo muttered under his breath, glancing to Y/N's hand, in which sat her phone. He was insinuating that they'd have to ask the app for assistance. They'd seen what it'd done to lay, and although he was able to help himself, they weren't sure what the repercussions would be this time. Everything always seemed to get worse in this game, especially on repeated instance, so there was no guarantee it wouldn't just make things worse. Still, they had nothing else to go on.

       "Baek, are you okay with that?"

       "What? Oh, yeah, sure, do whatever."

       "Do. Whatever." Kyungsoo repeated, trying not to lose it. Finally, he just turned to Y/N. "Alright, ask for the ingredients, I guess." Clicking into the search bar, she asked quite simply, what is the recipe for the antidote? Surprisingly, it did not reply with a recipe, or even a witty reply. It responded, For which player would you like the antidote? Confused, she read it a second time. Showing it to Suho, she asked,

       "Does that mean more than one person is sick? Or is it a test to see if we figured it out?" He looked over is as well, but finally just said,

       "I guess put in Baekhyun." She did so, allowing it to load as a recipe came up. It was all things that could be found in the vicinity, which made sense. It wouldn't really be a fair game if it was material they didn't have access to. However, as Kyungsoo read over the list, his eyes dimmed in concern.

       "These are all pretty complicated reactions. If we get even one thing off, we could just poison him a second time."

       "Let's try not to do that." Bakehyun laughed, spinning a pencil between his fingers nonchalantly.

       "Is there anything we can do to help? Xiumin asked as Kyungsoo and Suho began walking towards the kitchen.

       "Honestly, there's more of a chance of something going wrong if there are too many of us in there. Just wait, we'll handle it." It didn't feel right to do nothing as Baekhyun sat there, potentially dying, much as Kris had expressed a few moments earlier. Still, it wasn't like they had a choice. About thirty minutes into the whole affair, he finally showed the first signs of illness.

       His signature obnoxious grin had begun wavering, forehead just lightly beaded with sweat. He mentioned rather randomly that it felt kind of hot with a weak laugh, just before he threw up all over the ground. Chen had wondered aloud if maybe that would have miraculously ejected the poison from his system, but his symptoms only grew worse. By minute 40, he was lying on the ground shivering, but still sweating.

       "How's it coming in there?" Kris yelled, obviously trying not to act concerned, but nonetheless kneeling at Baekhyun's side. After receiving no response, Y/N chose to go and check on them. Walking into the room, the two were arguing under their breath about something, which couldn't have been good.

       "What's the problem?" She muttered. "No pressure, but we're running out of time. We don't know how long exactly it's been since he ate that thing-"

       "It's the last piece." Kyungsoo said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He was visibly stressed. "It doesn't have an amount. They did that on purpose, the fucking-" Before he could complete his list of profanities, Suho cut in.

       "We know that if we put too little, it won't work, but if we put too much, it'll react badly with everything else."

       "So all you need to do is put just a little bit less than that, right?" Y/N said.

       "What do you mean?"

       "He needs enough of it that it'll work, but you're afraid of the bad reaction. Do you know which parts of the chemicals will react badly?"

       "I- Kyungsoo does, yeah?"

       "Then just do the littlest bit less than that, yeah?"

       "How are we supposed to calculate that, though? Those are, like, big numbers."

       "Suho, your item is literally a calculator. Also, you have a phone." The boys looked to each other as if they were stupid. Kyungsoo immediately grabbed his phone and started typing something in, as she moved back outside to check on Baekhyun. His shaking had increased to be more like spasms, uneven but more violent, subsiding occasionally. Everyone was crowding around him, undoubtedly making it worse for him.

       Only moments later, Kyungsoo and Suho rushed in, holding a plastic cup with an admittedly strange colored liquid. Shaking Baekhyun's shoulder lightly, they tried to get him to open his eyes and listen to what they were saying. His expression was a strange mix of sad and gross, saliva glazing the corners of his mouth and all of his skin strangely hot.

       "Baekhyun, you need to drink this-" Suho held it, pushing him.

       "Get him up." Kai said, rolling him out of his positioning onto his back and trying to pull him upwards. His eyes were fluttering open and shut, but he didn't seem to really know what was going on. They tried to put it to his mouth, but he struggled against them, tilting his head away.

       "We're running out of time-" Xiumin mentioned nervously, although rather unhelpfully as well. Finally, Kai reached his hand around the boys face and held his nose shut while Suho poured it down his throat. He had no choice but to swallow it if he wanted to be able to breathe. Honestly, she was surprised he didn't completely pass out. Once he had swallowed, he shivered in disgust.

       "That shit was nasty." He mumbled, before falling asleep in Kai's arms. No one knew if he was alright, but they'd have to just wait and see if he woke up.

Go to Chapter 32

[torreygazette]

Music Review: The Highwomen

Few debut albums in recent memory have been received with such critical fanfare as the Highwomen’s self-titled effort, and for good reason. Brandi Carlile, Amanda Shires, Maren Morris, and Natalie Hemby each have considerable songwriting and performing talents, and together they create a number of terrific songs that have you realizing what a supergroup of Loretta, Dolly, Patsy, and Emmylou might have sounded like. And with Dave Cobb at the mixing board, whose recent production credits include Chris Stapleton’s Traveller, Jason Isbell’s Southeastern, and Prine’s The Tree of Forgiveness, The Highwomen manages to pay musical homage to outlaw country without being overcome by nostalgia. No small feat.

Morris leads the women in singing “Loose Change” as the singer stands up for her value to a lover who has long since taken her for granted; Morris’s blending of emotional vulnerability and resilience still has me surprised this isn’t a Dolly cover. And “Crowded Table,” with its images of hospitality and welcome, is wonderfully crafted by all four Highwoman singing around a crowded mic. Hemby’s “Don’t Call Me” is a classic country rocker and “Heaven Is a Honky Tonk” makes something written by Ray LaMontagne actually sound fun. 

But these are the true peaks of the album, and I find myself skipping the title track and “Redesigning Women” to get to them. That’s because the Highwomen have adopted a supergroup identity fundamentally derivative of the famous Highwaymen outfit of Cash, Willie, Kris, and Waylon. That move requires songwriting decisions to support it, and these tedious songs end up distracting from the very real talent on display elsewhere on the record. The album feels strained at times because the Highwomen are trying to simultaneously make a name for themselves while adopting a male group’s name and ethos. And the effort fails—perhaps not for the moment, but I doubt that this debut album will match the durability of the Cash/Nelson/Kristofferson/Jennings debut effort.

I realize this is something of a female Ghostbusters take and so I should explain myself. After all, I enjoyed the female Ghostbusters and thought it had some great moments.  Ghostbusters had the advantage of a tried-and-true concept, an obvious plot, and some terrific actresses delivering laughs via one-line zingers and rib-splitting slapstick scenes. In my view, a lot of the criticism was just whinging. So what makes this album any different? Unlike a prefabricated narrative, a record is like a blank canvas; it offers artists the ability to address anything. Given that wide range of possibilities, what do you write about? What do you sing about? For The Highwomen, the answer is often contemporary political or social commentary too often reliant on the acceptable preferences of the moment.

The album’s title track exchanges the Highwaymen’s highwayman, sailor, dam builder, and astronaut for a refugee, a Salem witch-healer, a Freedom Rider, and a preacher; and if the lyrics weren’t direct enough, a new fifth verse is there to provide the moral insights that you might have been too obtuse to infer. “Redesigning Women,” another critically popular track, provides an anthem for the late-capitalist female who successfully manages a professional career, full care of the household, and Joanna Gaines-level home renovations. “Redesigning” deploys these images, which impose real burdens on both homemakers and professional women, without any interesting engagement, and ends up reifying these expectations when challenging them would have been more interesting, lyrically and morally. These tracks, and others on the album, don’t strike me as particularly brave lyrical efforts. Instead, many of these purported outlaw songs are written for a critical and popular audience that is already guaranteed to approve of them.

The Highwomen didn’t invent this kind of overwrought, hyper-relevant lyricism, though. Rather, their album is affected by something I’ve heard on other recent country albums. Jason Isbell’s latest efforts, both individually and with the 400 Unit, have suffered from the same didactic approach to songwriting that I find perplexing for an artist who wrote “Outfit” and “Decoration Day” a few days after he got out of diapers. Country music has a rich history of anthems and stories, with heroes and villains, but the legendary albums that have come out of Tennessee have rarely been so on-the-nose with moral instruction, even when singers dusted off their hymnals to record a Gospel album. This didactic turn from some of country music’s new legends has me reaching for a paragraph about a new kind of honky-tonk version of Socialist Realism, but I’ll spare the reader for now. After all, we still have Prine.

I would expect we have more of these kinds of albums headed our way. The broadly shared cultural understandings (good or bad) that had allowed singers to focus on the key elements of county aesthetics—lyrical narratives or songs of loss joined by tasteful Telecaster arrangements—have disappeared. In their absence, artists seek to fill the gap by alloying old musical forms with instruction in the new morality, whether it’s the celebration of political causes du jour of “Highwomen” or the lesbian clap-back track “If She Ever Leaves Me.” This tedious combination of aesthetics, ethics, and indeed religion will often feel pretentious, disjointed, and worse—boring.

None of this means that the album is unlistenable or unenjoyable. Aside from a handful of tracks that have been lauded by professional critics, it’s a good album, and on the whole a great first effort. While I might not return to listen through this album completely, some songs will stick with me and I’m glad for that. But I imagine I’ll be satisfied with the songs and heroines the Highwomen themselves love; if the Highwomen release another record I’ll lift the needle off Don’t Come Home a Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ on Your Mind) and give it a listen.

[noahreids]

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 14/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 | Ch.14

A/N: I can’t believe we're here, the final chapter. This has been an absolutely amazing experience, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And it’s honestly because of everyone that’s read, liked, reblogged, left comments, tweeted and just really simply being awesome amazing people. I know I’ve said it before but I appreciate the heck out of each and every one of you. You have no idea. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I wish I could take each of you out for a Guinness or hot chocolate, your choice ;) xoxo

So much love to everyone at @captainswanbigbang your encouragement, patience and work to put this event on is out of this world. Thank you. Thanks to @shippingtheswann, @imagnifika for amazing collaboration and to @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. 

And last but not least, please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. We are one lucky fandom!

And now will Killian find Emma?

Chapter 14

Emma tightly grasps the arms of her chair, whitening her knuckles and holds on until the tips of her fingers begin to hurt. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she turns her head, eyes wide. And there, just across the room stands Anna in all her spirited grandeur, hair damp and frizzing from the rain, cheeks pink and eyes bright with elation, like she’s just come in from a race.

Emma isn’t sure if she wants to throw herself into Anna’s arms or collapse into her chair and cry in relief. She’s momentarily frozen, simply trying to find her voice that is currently nowhere to be found. The how and the why and the do you know where he is are all clamoring hard to come out first that they get stuck in her throat, forcing Emma to remain silent instead, blinking at her friend, a new tear escaping.

“Oh, Emma. It’s okay!”

Anna rushes to her side and grabs hold of her hands.

“Yeah?” she squeaks out her question.

Anna squeezes her fingers and her expression gentles from excitement to understanding.

“So, okay. I promise. Let’s call Killian right now, he’s sporting the same expression you are, although with a little more self-loathing.”

Emma’s face scrunches in confusion.

“But he doesn’t --”

“Have a phone? I know, what a dummy! But listen to this, Kristoff and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat at the Brazen Head, and there was Killian, pacing outside a coffee shop. He was trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi on the phone he’d just bought, muttering over and over that he must have missed a hostel as he looked for you. So anyway, I run over to him and--”

“Anna,” Emma interrupts, eyes pleading. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Uh, we only called you about a thousand times,” she says, shaking her phone in front of Emma’s face.

“What are you talking about? My phone never rang.”

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket, only to find the screen dark. Her stomach drops. She presses the home button and the dreaded dead battery image flashes across the screen.

“Oh look, here’s Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s grinning face fills Anna’s screen and all Emma wants to do is steal the phone away, she wants to ask more questions, she wants Killian to suddenly appear directly in front of her.

“Kris, are you with Killian? I found her. At Abrahams on Lower Gardiner. You’re where? Oh!”

Emma tries to follow the conversation, she really does, but when she hears that Kristoff is with Killian, all she wants to do is be where he is, now. She frantically stuffs everything back in her pack, unaware Anna has stopped talking or that the front door has opened once again.

She just needs to get to him and everything will be alright. She’s sure of it.

“Anna, you need to tell me where he is.”

She is met with silence.

She looks up to find Anna watching her with that same soft smile. One she doesn’t have time for.

“Swan.”

She drops everything. Her bag lands with a loud thump, falling precariously close to the end table, rattling the tea cup and saucer but she pays no mind because he’s there. Killian is in the lobby, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. His chest heaves with quick breaths as they stare at each other.

“Killian,” she says with relief, with a small gasp before her feet are moving her across the room. He keeps them both upright when she reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck, lips meeting in a hard desperate kiss.

His arms come around her, and hold her tightly, as she changes the angle of the kiss, wanting more, breathing him in. She only pulls a breath length away, hands gripping the collar of his jacket, eyes closed, words rushing out.

“How, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been to every hostel in the city, some twice and when I found Anna and K--” his explanation breaks off on a laugh as she peppers his face with kisses.

“You really found me,” her voice comes softer, surprise tinting her words and she watches as he turns pensive, eyes searching hers for the words she isn’t using.

He cups her face, thumb catching fresh tears on her cheeks, gently wiping them away.

“Of course. I will always find you. Did you doubt I would?”

She doesn’t want to say yes, or to admit to all the fears and worries that had threatened to overwhelm her, not when he had been looking for her as frantically as she, but he must have read it as clear as day on her face. He has always teased her about being an open book.  

“Emma, where did you think I went?”

She opens her mouth but how does she explain such a thing? Her grip on his jacket tightens and she tries again to explain that there is a little voice that whispers to her when she is at her most vulnerable. One that tells her she isn’t good enough to keep anyone around for very long, one that tells her she doesn’t deserve him, but the words don’t come. She also wants to tell him how badly she wants to fight that little voice, how she didn’t want it to be true with him.

The front door opens and a group of young women tumble in, carrying with them their giggles and a current of cold air.

Emma shivers, tucking herself against Killian. His hand drops to her back, running up and down.

“Emma, you soaked through, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry.”

She buries her nose into his shirt, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

“I’m fine.”

Another shiver and he tuts in disapproval, and she is grateful for the distraction from his question, for him not pushing it further, for now.

“We have to find a place to stay. They might have rooms here, we can ask,” she whispers as the girls pass and disappear up a staircase, dropping them into silence once again.

“I’ve booked us a hotel, with an ostentatiously large comfortable bed, eternal hot water, and room service. Come on,” he explains, finding her hand against his chest and giving it a squeeze.

“But? Why?”

He shakes his head and leans down to capture her lips in a slow, sure kiss. She chases after his lips when he finally pulls away, and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I never want you to wonder where we’ll be sleeping again. We’ll keep it for as long as you want.”

“Killian,” she whispers, a touch of awe.

His lips brush her forehead before dropping her hand and walking over to wear she left her bag. He hikes it onto his back and comes back to join her, lending his hand out to her.

“Let’s set sail, love.”

She grabs on tightly but takes a last glance around.

“Wait, where’s Anna?”

“She slipped out with Kris. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”

Emma nods to herself but glances quickly towards the front desk. She finds the clerk, watching her over his book.

“Thank you, so much. Especially for the tea.”

He smiles and nods.

“Any time, the door is always opened.”

She leaves him with a last smile and lets Killian guide them to their hotel, never once letting go of her hand.

xo

The room is only dimly lit by the small bedside lamp, casting a golden glow across the white duvet. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking the outside world from intruding in and muting the late night sounds. The quiet calm, only disrupted by the central air kicking on in a cyclical fashion. Emma takes it all in with long, slow looks and deep even breaths.

She sits crossed-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, comfortably sinking into plush blankets. Her skin is pink from the hot water, fingers a little wrinkled from the generous amount of time she took in the shower and her hair sits in a messy bun a top her head. She is wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, practically disappearing into the soft cotton and in no hurry to get dressed.

She spots her bag across the room, slumped on a chair and knows she could find something dry to sleep in but she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to crawl under the covers, feel the warmth of Killian’s skin against hers and sleep for days, but that would require Killian being back by her side.

She listens and hears the water still running in the bathroom, he too choosing to luxuriate in the first real shower they’ve had in a long time.

She’d tried to convince him to join her, but for once he stood his ground.

“If you’re in there with me, my mind will only be focused on one thing.”

She’d pouted but followed him into the large bathroom.

“But,” she’d tried but he simply silenced her with kiss.

“Most importantly, we need to warm you up and then we can have a nice chat.”

He turned the water on and the bathroom slowly filled with steam. Satisfied he’d turned and helped rid her of her wet clothes. Each layer he’d peeled away, he’d kissed a new spot. Her shirt came off, a kiss to her shoulder. He knelt while pulling her leggings down, he’d pressed his lips to the jut of her hip, warm breath lingering as he looked up. He’d given her a little amused head shake as she whispered please.

“Come here, just for a second,” she’d tried a new tactic and pulled him up. Her naked self, deliciously pressed to his clothed front.

She’d kissed him hard, feeling him hard. She’d sighed and it had been his turn to shiver.

“Emma,” he’d warned. “This is why,” he’d added, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath before pulling away and pulling back the shower curtain.

“In you go. I’ll call for room service so it’s here when you get out.”  

She’d finally reluctantly agreed and here she is now, waiting for him.

She spies the plate of goodies besides her and while she really isn’t that hungry, she can’t resist the hot chocolate, a sprinkle of cinnamon still decorating the top of the whipped cream.

And that’s how he finds her, in the middle of the bed, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, mid-sip.

When he hesitates at the edge of the room, clad only in boxer briefs, she finishes her sip and drops the mug on the end table, licking her lips and encouraging him to join her.

It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s pulling the covers back, settling against the headboard and before he can protest or explain why it’s not a good idea, she’s straddling his lap, her shy smile quieting any words of concern.  

Her fingers trace his features, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re sure you won’t eat anything?” he asks, eyeing the barely touched plate.

She shakes her head slowly, finger tips running along the shell of his ear, down his neck and resting over his heart.

She likes that it beats just as wildly as hers.

“And you’re warm enough now?” he asks, hand running up under her robe to rest on her thigh.  

A nod.

He gives her a wry smile.

“So am I going to have to guess why you were so surprised I found you? Or was it that I was looking for you at all? Or are you going to tell me?”

Her eyes leave his lips and look up, worried she is going to find a trace of anger or disappointment but what she finds is a smile and patience and something that might be love. She thinks of the words on her postcard.

And thinks it might be time to be a little brave.

“I -- for a moment I thought maybe you left. That you realized what a mess I was. That you’d had enough and it was the perfect out.”

“Emma, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks for the lie and doesn’t see any.

“We could teach surfing in Doolin and eat fish and chips at that little diner every night,” he offers with a squeeze to her thigh.

“You were terrible at surfing.”

He shrugs, not offended.

“Eh, I was improving by the end.”

That gets a laugh out of her and a thought pops into her head, her own suggestion.

“We could run boat tour in Dingle.”

“And visit with Fungie every day,” he finishes for her, inciting another laugh.

But soon she falls quiet, eyes on her hands in her lap.

“Or,” she starts and stops.

He parts her robe just a bit and rest his warm hand over her frantically beating heart, her next suggestions on the very tip of her tongue.

“Or? Or what, Emma? Your heart is racing. Tell me.”

“Or we could go back to Storybrooke?” she finally asks, voice small, full of nerves, eyes downcast but his hand leaves her heart and trails up her neck, tipping her chin up.

“Okay.”

Emma blinks, the word barely registering. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Just like that?” she asks.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You just -- you’ve never mentioned it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs and attempts to move off but his hand and wrist fall to her hips, keeping her in place.

“You just, you talk of all these exotic and extraordinary places that you’ve already been to and all these new places you want to see. But you’ve never once mentioned anything in the US, never mind Storybrooke.”

Now he does look at her like she’s at least a little crazy, so she forges on.

“I know Storybrooke may not be as glamorous as Rome or Bali or wherever, but I need to go back.”

“Emma, those are all places we can visit someday if we want to, but now? I just assumed I’d be going back with you. Did you not think I would be by your side? I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

He looks away and seems to contemplate his next words.

“And perhaps I’ve been a little reluctant to talk about leaving because in one way, it means saying goodbye to Liam but--”

“It doesn’t!” she interrupts, cupping his face, passionate, sure of her statement and he smiles, turning his head to kiss her palm. “This is definitely not goodbye. This trip felt like a beginning and he’ll always be with you and any trip we take.”

“Thank you, I hope that’s true but that’s only part of what I need to explain. Perhaps you aren’t the only one with fears, Emma. I’ve quietly held onto my own worries, that you may not want me--” before he can finish his statement she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Take that back.”

And she doesn’t move her hand away until she sees the smile reach his eyes and the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll have me?” he asks, hand slipping down to the knot in her robe.  

“Of course.”

His fingers deftly undo the loose knot, warm hand parting her robe further, slipping it off her shoulders to pool around her waist.

“When do we leave?” he asks, moving closer, mouth finally, finally, moving along the curve of her neck, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

“Not right now.”

She feels his smile as his lips reach her jaw and move to her ear.

“How long do we have this room for again?” she asks, her voice grows softer with each press of his lips. She arches as he cups her breast, fingers finding her nipple, teasing, pinching and making her gasp.

“As long as you like.”

“A few days then, just you and me.”

Her hips rock slowly.

And she feels his groan against the curve of her shoulder before he flips them, hovering over her.

“As you wish,” he whispers as she helps him with his boxers, lowering them over his hips.

He moves against her, where she’s wet and aching for him, they both sigh.

“I’m sorry for running,” she whispers, voice tight with emotion.

He shakes his head, before capturing her lips, grounding her.

He pulls back, finding her eyes before sliding home, they both groan.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He pulls out before sliding back, stealing her breath and taking them late into the night, together.

xo

The next few days tumble into a week, and while she would like to say they visited all the sights, explored Dublin, got lost in history and legend, in reality they barely left the room. They rarely got dressed for that matter and it was more than okay.

They did manage to see Anna and Kris once, where Emma pulled Anna aside and thanked her for everything.

And they did get dressed to taste some whiskey at the Jameson Distillery before tumbling back into bed, a little warm, a little drunk and full of laughs that melt into moans.

But catching her breath on her final days in Dublin, Emma thinks that she might remember those days and nights caught up in each other, just as clearly as some of the most beautiful cliffs and ancient castles.

She’ll remember the comfort she felt, waking up each day, knowing there was no end no matter what happened next.

It’s this comfort that allowed her to finally pick up the phone and reach out to David and Mary Margaret. With Killian by her side, nodding encouragingly, it had been easier to not hang up when someone picked up after the first ring. It was his hand in hers that helped her apologize for taking so long to call and when Mary Margaret had protested immediately, telling Emma to take all the time she needed, it was his smile that had her asking if they could and meet and talk when she got back home.

“Any time, any where, anything you need. Oh, thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret had whispered and Emma had known it was finally time.

They booked their flight the next day.

And as their plane climbs higher and higher into the sky, and Dublin slowly disappears from view, she knows they’ll be back again one day.

“Okay?” he whispers as they reach cruising altitude. Emma casts a last look out the window before pulling down the shade.

“Perfect. Just tired.”

“Sleep then, I’ll be here when you wake.”

She drops her head to his shoulder and does just that.

xo

“So this is where Emma Swan calls home,” Killian says as she lets them into her little apartment, flicking on a light and breathing in the familiar smell. She glances back to him as he drops his bag and kicks off his shoes.

“I think wherever you are is home.”

She says and quickly retreats further into the house, shaky hands holding the flowers that were on her doorstep when they arrived. She had told Mary Margaret and David when they were getting in and they had kindly sent a welcome home gift.

It was surreal. She couldn’t believe things were going this smoothly, that maybe she was allowed to be this lucky.

“Swan, are these all the postcards you wrote?”

His voice is distracted, far away. She freezes as she fills a vase with water but then after a beat she lets out a slow breath.

“Unless someone else was sending me post cards.”

“Will you allow me the honor of reading them?”

She smiles at his words and then thinks of what saying yes would mean.

Should he? So many of her truths are on there. So many words to him. Now that she thinks of it, they weren’t so much postcards as love letters to Killian.

“Now?”

“Mmm,” comes his distracted reply, maybe already glancing at the back. Although she knows if she says no, he’ll drop it. It’s that truth that makes her say yes.  

“Sure, go for it. I’ll just be in my room, second door on the right,” she finally responds, not like he won’t be able to find her in the small space.

She thinks maybe she can unpack, maybe she should shower, maybe -- maybe she can’t do anything until he comes to find her or she hears the front door slam shut after he runs away. She shakes the image right out of her head. She knows he won’t do that but what will he think?

Minutes pass and she settles at the edge of the bed, lying back and letting her legs dangle over the edge. She counts her breaths in an attempt to stay calm. After awhile she hears his quiet footfalls down the hall, until they come to a stop in her room.

“Emma,” he whispers but she can’t bring herself to move. She closes her eyes and he walks in further. She feels him standing at the edge of the bed, knees brushing her bent ones.

“Is it too much?”

She peeks up at him through one eye.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters in the most loving way possible and then he tells her to wait and disappears. She hears him unzip his bag and rummage around.

He comes back, still only her postcards visible in his hand.

“I love all of these. Thank you for letting me see a little glimpse into your thoughts but I have to admit, there is one I like one most of all.”

He holds up the last one, the one holding the words ingrained in her mind. She holds her breath.

“I do, I do,” he echoes the last line to her and she scrambles to sit up.

“You do?” she whispers, her question imbued with hope, with awe.

“I do. I love you too.”

She’s not going to cry again, she not going to -- he tosses the postcards onto the bed, scattering beside her and reaches into his pocket.

“Whoa.”

He smiles indulgently, fingers holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

“Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing but this is a promise. That it’s you and me, Emma, as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want you to worry about --”

“Yes.”

His words trail off and his eyebrow pops up, a grin she loves so much, pulling at his lips.

“Swan?”

“I’m not worried, not about you. It’s you and me.”

He opens the box and gently removes the ring, and even though it’s not a proposal, when he slips the delicate claddagh ring on her finger, she knows it’s forever.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

“Always.”

“And not just that day in Dublin.”

“I know, Swan and I’m pretty sure you found me too.”

He kisses her again and again, following her onto the bed.

She cups his face, pulling back long enough to make sure she has his attention.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

She pulls him down again, vowing to never ever let go.

THE END.

---

My goodness. That’s it. 

Thank you for reading, I loved writing these two and thank you for coming along on their journey. 

It’s possible I may write a look into their future because I don’t want to say goodbye but... we’ll see.

Have I said thank you! <3

[roseate7]

A team with a core of superstars should feel like a boon on top of a roster of well-paid solid talent. But in the Pens' superstars' post-thirty years, that's not feeling like the case. It feels like a confused team yo-yoing through highs and lows who have superstars that are keeping the whole thing afloat. I don't think this is a problem with the superstars or with the rest of the team. I think it's that management and coaching aren't even aware of this situation, or at least are not acknowledging it.

As Brass' exit interview proved, and as everyone but "why can't everyone see I'm amazing" Sprong agrees, there's no toxic culture in the Pens locker room. It's not as boisterous as some teams but it's also not cliquey and there are no rules about personal habits beyond guys needing to keep language and behavior somewhat clean considering how often children visit the Pens facilities. Social media is often a bit more stifled than most teams for much the same reason. But you see lots of mingling of new and older guys on the job and in their social lives. New boys get invited to dinners and parties no problem. Sid’s known for not being a yelling captain or a buddy-buddy captain, he’s a listener and a teacher and he’s open almost 24/7. Geno is honest as the day is long and a much needed balance in leadership with Sid. It’s a solid system up top and if you’re a guy who wants to work hard then there’s a place for you waiting among the team. For all that GMJR plays musical chairs with his trades, the team itself wants to bring these guys into the fold and love them.

Which I often wonder if that's part of the problem. Is it better to have a rowdier boys-club locker room where everyone loves their job but there's a healthy balance emotionally between giving your all at work and going home to get away from it, than your team being your second family and the head and heart of it all are two generational superstars who've gotten used to an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny and pressure?

Sid and Geno have faced absurd pressure and media interest since their teens (and from childhood in Sid’s case)  as well as a heightened level of expectation and criticism. The bar was set ridiculously high from the start and yeah they’ve gotten used to it. But while they have been able to handle and keep up with all of that, when you combine it with the talent of the Pens’ Cup-winning core - there's just no escaping how much higher expectations are when you show up to work there.

Especially considering the history GMJR in particular has of bringing in players currently in rough patches and wanting to rehabilitate them. It's gotta be weird being that guy who was a healthy scratch for much of his latter days at his old team and then suddenly you're grabbing a gatorade next to Kris Letang and Patric Hornqvist is trying to kiss you.

Then you see Sid and Geno walking around the halls of a venue they built. They're not even the types of hockey idols who are goofballs. Geno has a great sense of humor and shows his love by chirping, but the weight on his shoulders is palpable. The guy has long shadows in his past and in what's still expected of him, to say nothing of his fraught relationship with the league. Sid especially is so swamped with media responsibility and visiting groups from charities, schools, interviews and meetings that there's never really a sense of being "off". I don't know that that disconnect from normal guy reality ever really goes away when your captain grew up having to watch his every single word and gesture, even in casual moments, because everyone is waiting to catch him out at being human and flawed.

Like, hockey players are heavily flawed by nature. They're overgrown boys given way too much money too early and their lives have had the privilege of revolving around a sport that eats up almost their entire lives. They're socially more like figure skaters or ballet dancers than contact sports athletes because of how much their existence has to revolve around their work. But the balance for that is usually being rowdy, being excessive, and finding women who will put in the work to cultivate a home and family for them.

Sid has more than once gotten a bit of a nudge or a side-eye for not performing the usual post mid-twenties to early-thirties settling down ritual. While I absolutely respect him for being smart enough to keep his personal identity limited to himself for so long, it's plain to see that this aberration is viewed by at least a portion of the hockey world as a destabilizing one. For all that that is backward as hell, it's a real issue if enough guys buy into it. It's clearly not going to peer pressure him into making that kind of commitment, but it's a consideration for the subject of this drawn out ass post.

To bring it all back around: it's not going too far to say that Sid absolutely views his team and his franchise as his second family. Hockey itself has been his childhood best friend and I don't think anyone is in any doubt that the degree to which he's emotionally woven his life into hockey is a good old little bit too much. He's got a LOT of friends scattered across the world and a big ol' family, but Pittsburgh considers him "their Sid" because they're the family who get him the most out of the year. It's much the same for Geno whose Russian bleeding heart has cultivated a Pittsburgh-centric American identity for himself. They gave themselves permanently to this club and the club in turn has declared them as their own until their retirement. They've already achieved a legacy that most NHLers consider out of their reach. They're warm and kind people, but they're also walking that bit apart from everyone else. It's just how things have worked out for this particular dynasty. Most clubs have one superstar who navigates a way to stay integrated with the team (or not, in some cases) or the rare instance like 90s Detroit where the majority of the roster is made up of superstars. But it’s what makes the Crosby and Malkin dynasty so unusual in modern hockey: the arrival of the salary cap era put an end to one team hoarding generational talents. Having a Crosby and a Malkin who agree to huge discounts in pay and tally their income close to each other is, well it’s just fuckin’ unheard of. Likely never going to happen again, to be honest and I don’t blame other superstars at all for not following that pattern.  

So I just wonder if that comfort of knowing you have these two leaders and this stellar Cup-winning core changes the mentality for the rest of the players, regardless of their own talent. And if there is something inherently difficult for a player who walks into a franchise where every turn reminds you that your team is expected by the league, by the media and by the fans to perform and behave at a certain standard or else it's considered abject failure. The reaction is intense and harsh.

It's why I want coaches and management to start imagining a team with their core stars taken out and figure out how to get the other guys to gel together and strategize in a way that will exist on top of the core's ability to ride in and save the day. Examine how, when young players throughout the league play with the Pens core on national and ASG teams, they say that it's almost absurd how easy their job becomes. Maybe that's a hint that the guys outside the core can't figure out how to get their teeth back into their play when they're practising with guys who can generate chances every single time. Maybe the motivation isn't there if they can't find a place where they're needed. 

Maybe there actually does need to be some cliquey-ness to the locker room so that the guys outside the core can train and practise on a level that they feel the urgency again.

Maybe no matter how nice the busy superstars are to you and how much they wanna just be one the guys, sometimes they just can't. The separation is out of their control. And that other players want to huddle up with guys who face the same challenges in their play but who aren't staying hours after a game to talk to media and meet hoardes of fans or having to change dinner plans so no one can see who they're out with.

Idk it's a thing to think about.  

(I know it’s pretentious as fuck to link to myself but it’s for reference I promise)

[iamchikara]

CHIKARA weekend this weekend, it’s King of Trios ‘19. Let’s see if I can preview all three nights in one go. Night One, as is tradition, will feature solely the first round of the tournament. That round is as follows. NDK (Nick Gage, Thomas Santell, and Kris Statlander) vs. Team Pump (Scott Steiner, Petey Williams, and Jordynne Grace) The Quack Attack (Mike Quackenbush and the Ugly Ducklings) vs. The Colony (Fire, Green, and Thief Ant) The Velocities (Mat Diamond, Jude London, and Paris De Silva) vs. The Crucible (Ophidian, Lance Steel, and Princess Kimberlee) The Legion of Rot (Hallowicked, Frightmare, and Kobald) vs. The Carnies (Nick Iggy, Kerry Awful, and Tripp Cassidy) The Crucible (Evan Matthew Demorest, Matt Makowski, and Devantes) vs. Team Queens (Solo Darling, Willow Nightingale, and Freddy Mercurio) F.I.S.T. (Icarus, Travis Huckabee, and Tony Deppen) vs. The Embassy (Prince Nana, Jimmy Rave, and Sal Rinauro) The Nations (Mick Moretti, Jack Bonza, and Adam Hoffman) vs. Karate Kat Xtreme (Lucas Calhoun, Stray Kat, and Missile Assault Man) The Hatfields & The McCoys (Dasher Hatfield, Boomer Hatfield, and Molly McCoy...who should be called Team Dysfunction) vs. The Creatures of the Deep (Oceanea, Merlok, and Hermit Crab) Currently on deck for Night Two... The quarterfinal round of the King of Trios tournament. As is also tradition, we don’t have brackets out that far, so it’ll be fun seeing how that goes. There will be the traditional elimination four-ways for the Rey de Voladores tournament. Please keep in mind that RdV is not for points. Apparently we only have Alex Zayne, Danjerhawk, and Cajun Crawdad announced prior, so it’ll also be fun to see who else enters. John Francis of Coronado, who is in current possession of two points, has issued an open challenge. Knowing something about open challenges in professional wrestling, this has a high probability of backfiring on him dramatically. The creator confronts the creation! Certainly BLANK has to be smarting that his creation, Still Life With Apricots and Pears, has been achieving considerably more success than he has, plus there was the situation with Penelope Ford. Now the Artiste looks to destroy his last remaining creation and begin anew, but I highly doubt Still Life will be put down that easily. They’ve taken on a life of their own in recent times, etching themselves into the record books by shattering Frightmare’s record of most successful defenses of the Young Lions Cup. This will be non-title, so a point will also be riding on it. Currently on deck for Night Three... The semifinals and finals of the King of Trios tournament, as always. The Rey de Voladores tournament final, as always. The traditional tag gauntlet. Teams currently announced: Los Ice Creams, The Closers, Callux and Volgar of the Proteus Wheel, Jakob Hammermeier and Der Wildebeest, Cornelius Crummels and Sonny DeFarge, and two unnamed members of the Crucible. (That last one might mean a Crucible team bows out of the tournament or that they’re fielding The Whisper and Frey Nassar, as neither are currently scheduled for anything, or some combo of them and Tunku Amir who I just plain forgot about.)