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DJ Dapper was not a person who resembled Napstablook in any way.
Dapper, of course, technically was Napstablook, or at least partially so. It hadn’t been their idea to create an anonymous screen-name for which to post mixes to the Undernet without having to worry what anyone would think of them, and it especially wasn’t their idea for Dapper to talk in such a confident, energetic and show-biz friendly manner.
Those ideas were all their cousin’s, and even though he had since gone AWOL, Napstablook found it within themselves to pretend to be DJ Dapper and write the way DJ Dapper did, even though it would physically hurt them to do so if they had a body. Dapper was just too confident, too in control of themselves, too able to actually talk to people. Napstablook didn’t feel like the DJ, they didn’t feel like the ghost who should be flattered by post after post of Awesome! Or Loved it!, and they sure didn’t feel like the ghost that they heard monsters around waterfall chatting about, every now and then.
‘Hey, did you see that new track that Dapper put out?’
That’s really good for them. It’s good that they amounted to something.
What they did feel like was a liar who loved to make music, and a thief who could never share any of it with anyone. How could they possibly manage to explain to anyone that they really were DJ Dapper? No, they would slink back home in embarrassment, and then everyone would think that they were a liar, a disappointment and then they could never go outside again. No no no no no no. That wouldn’t do.
So to Napstablook, DJ Dapper was just someone who posted music that people seemed to really like online, and happened to get all of that music from them, and who spoke like their cousin had said they should speak.
Heats451: [Hey, Dapper, is there an ETA on when the next album’s coming out? Love your stuff!]
DJ DAPPER: [Smart money’s on sometime next week! Got a few little touches I want to put on the last track, but everything else is ready to go!]
xX_jerry_Xx: [i pirated all of ur stuf jus to spite u]
DJ DAPPER: [*Shrugs* Do what you will. I’m just glad you’re listening!]
COOLSKELETON95: [THAT LAST TRACK WAS SO EMOTIONAL!!! IF I WERE THE KIND OF SKELETON TO CRY PATHETIC TEARS, I WOULD HAVE! BUT I DIDN’T!!! ALMOST, HOWEVER!]
DJ DAPPER: [Oh, I’m sure you didn’t ;) . Glad you liked it!]
Exclamation points and capital letters marched out through their keyboard and into this persona, this mask. They would never speak to anyone this way, not in a million years. Their cousin would, but he’s not exactly around anymore. It all felt so utterly fake. It was amusing, in its own way- nobody would ever be able to figure out who DJ Dapper really was, because DJ Dapper pretty much wasn’t Napstablook.
Nobody knew. It was better that way.
Nobody knew until someone ratted on them, anyways.
Knock Knock!
An ugly sound. Excited hands on hard, splintered wood. The knock itself was of a superior quality- precisely measured and executed, to be easily heard yet not unpleasantly loud or… destructive, unlike a certain well-meaning neighbor. But it was still a sound Napstablook never wanted to hear, because it meant that they had to open the door and probably talk to someone, and they couldn’t even really disappear because where else would they even go, they were cornered in their own home.
Obviously, it couldn’t be their neighbor- the door hadn’t snapped in two. She was also out working, looking for humans- she wouldn’t come to check on them until later this evening. She was better than to show up without giving them any time to brace themselves.
Down the list of candidates… could it maybe be that fuzzy guy? He had been here just last week, however, and he usually only showed up on a monthly basis. No, this knock didn’t sound like his either- his was laboriously hushed and placid, holding back great power that he didn’t dare to use.
That’s already the two obvious answers scratched off the list. Not a good start. Maybe it was that short skeleton fellow who occasionally toured through waterfall, tapping out hit-and-run knock-knock jokes? If that were the case, they didn’t even have to open the door at all (how nice would that be?). But no joke had been started, unless the joke was to stand there silently and make everyone feel uncomfortable, but that wasn’t really funny.
Knock knock!
Identical. Precise, sharp and punctual. There was no shift in tone to indicate waning patience- this knock was a perfect, calculated replication of the last. Simply to ask if somebody was home.
Names fluttered through them. Shyren, Woshua, Aaron… but what could they possibly want with Napstablook? They only even remembered their names because it would be so terribly inconsiderate to forget, they’ve talked maybe once, and it was a short, awkward talk at that.
…oh…… i’m keeping them waiting……
Of course. Didn’t even consider that they were taking so long, how rude. They didn’t know what to expect and they hated it, as much as they could summon up the temper to hate anything, but they really did need to answer that door. Don’t be a disappointment. Don’t be scared.
You got nothing to worry about, Blooky! It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you but me, and I think you’re wonderful!
Remember what they said. Just don’t think about it. Open the door, don’t think about it. Be a machine, be a robot. Just answer their questions and they’ll go away just go away oh goodness gracious why are you even here.
The creak of rusted, disused hinges was unbearably uncomfortable to listen to. They both cringed.
“……hello….?”
On the other side of the door was a finely dressed woman, with skin of pale lavender and a set of six spindly arms that hung patiently down by her knees, fingers woven together in a well-mannered gesture.
“Good afternoon. My name is Muffet, I’m here to inquire about your musical talents, if you have the time.” Her tone was artificially confident- it would have been real confidence, but there was something sitting on her shoulders, something she would have to say to them soon that would put her in some sort of vulnerable position. Still, her manners were immaculate, as if she had been trained.
It was… a bit much for Napstablook. Someone they had never seen before, dressed so fancily, as if this meeting with them was something to be on her best appearance for. Speaking with so much purpose- she was here to ask something of them and the thought bubbled up a familiar worry.
Worst of all, she said ‘Musical Talents’, implying that she already knew more about them than almost anyone. Nobody in waterfall knew they mixed music.
Play it cool, like cousin would tell you. Play it cool.
“……i’m sorry, i… don’t know what you’re talking about….. maybe you have the wrong house….”
Cool.
She looked genuinely disoriented, and they weren’t sure if that made them feel guilty or relieved. Maybe she really DID have the wrong house, but there weren’t many others to choose from down here. Maybe their neighbor was getting better on the piano?
“Oh? You are DJ Dapper, no?”
What.
“…..uhhh…um…err…..uuhhhhhh……” Normally, Napstablook wasn’t much for facial expressions- a natural, relaxed frown was more often than not perfectly adequate for describing their mood, but their eyes were wide with some sort of primal, fight-or-flight terror now, at the mere mention of that forsaken name. She knew. She knew, how could she ever know!?
Nope, not dealing with this. Nope nope nope.
SLAM!
The hinges peeped a little bit, one more time, at the sudden burst of movement applied to them. It was a confused, startled noise; Napstablook never slammed doors, especially not in someone’s face. So rude. But then again… she knew. This was seriously freaky. They had never seen this woman before in their entire, long, long life, and she already knew more about them than almost anybody else. How did she find out? Was it just obvious? Was it something they posted? Did EVERYONE know now?
Oh god oh god oh gee oh no.
“Oh my. I’m so sorry, dearie, did I offend you? I did not mean to, I promise!” Still so full of good manners and kind posture, even on the other side of a slammed door. In her face. So rude.
They really wanted to know how she had come to find their true identity. That much seemed like rather valuable information. But that would mean opening that door again, and it had been hard enough the first time when it wasn’t quite as incredibly awkward as it would be now.
You have to learn to stand up for yourself, darling. Be brave! Be the showstopper you really are! I’m not going to be around to do that for you, forever, you know!
There was so much depressing truth in those words. Cousin was right, they had to be brave. It would be a lot easier if he was here now, repeating that chant of confidence for them, but they just had to make do with the echoes in their memory.
The door squealed and whined open, holding a grudge from when they had slammed it shut for the first time ever. A sheepish smile was stretched over her fangs.
“Again, so sorry if I offended you in any way. Oh, it is my fault; he did tell me that I shouldn’t be so direct…”
He. Someone else. Someone else knew how did anyone know. Who else had ‘he’ told? How did he know?
Just slam the door again just slam it and then bar it shut and go lie down escape into a cosmos of garbage you’ll be safe there.
Shaking, seething in anxiety, they spoke so very slowly. “….how….do you know who I am...?”
Her face brightened up a bit, her many eyes widening like she had just remembered something that had been on the tip of her tongue. “Oh, of course. I asked a… business friend of mine if he knew anything about how I could contact you face-to-face, and he tipped me off. If it bothers you, dearie, then I’ll make sure to ask how he knew next time we chat!”
“umm… you could have just used the undernet…..” So rude, so so rude. No manners, unlike her. But some questions need answers. Be brave. Stand up for yourself.
She stiffened a little bit. Oh no, she didn’t like that. Oh no. “I was raised to believe that all matters of business should be settled in person, dearie.”
She didn’t tell them that it was because she really just couldn’t figure out this whole computer thing, no matter what the other spiders did to try and teach her.
“oh, that makes sense… sorry… do…”
Deep breath, even though I have no lungs.
“…do you want to come in?”
The air stood still for a brief moment, before her smile brightened again. “Yes, please. There’s quite a bit I would like to discuss with you, but not out here in the open!”
The sound of the door squeaking closed again behind her did a lot to punctuate what felt to them like a colossal mistake.
They tried, somewhat frantically, to remember the protocol for guests. Last guest they had was cousin, and cousin was something of a master at making himself comfortable. There was some tea around here, somewhere, that they had gotten just in case their neighbor or the fuzzy guy ever needed to stay for a while. They could get her some tea, offer her a seat and-
“oh, i’m sorry… there’s nowhere for you to sit…. oh no….”
They turned around to apologize, but she was already sitting neatly and cross-legged on the floor, stifling a soft giggle.
“oh. umm, would you like some tea…?”
“Tea sounds wonderful, dearie. Thank you.”
The rising whistle of the dusty old kettle was a splendid anchor for them, a perfect focal point and distraction whenever eye-contact was starting to linger and that old creeping feeling of awkwardness and being a let-down was bearing upon on them. But, such a comfort was short lived, and the tea was ready eventually. They lowered themselves a little bit, to create a vague impression of having sat down. It was really just symbolic, but it felt like the polite thing to do.
“Anyway, about what I wanted to ask… do you suppose that you could do a commission?”
“um…” A commission? She wanted a tune of her very own? But that would mean that she knew that they had made it, and just for her, what if she hated it? Oh gee…
“I can pay you, of course!” She winced a little bit when she came to the word ‘pay’. The money was for the spiders, she had said, and only for the spiders. But they had all insisted that she do at least one nice thing for herself.
“It’s just… I finally honed my magic to the point where I have my own battle theme, but it’s… well, it’s quite a mess to listen to.”
Oh sweet lord above no. A battle theme commission? Battle themes were approaching sacred, a special, personal thing that each monster creates with the underlying tones of their very soul whenever they grew strong enough. Ignoring the obvious inner detachment it would take to request to ditch your own and get a new one, they could never do this for her. What if it wasn’t good? How horrible would it be if she was waging bloody war for her life or her honor and she had some poorly tuned synthetic squeal as backdrop?
But, the unfortunate part of it all was that it was completely possible. Napstablook had spent quite a bit of time with cousin, tweaking their own themes, adding unique touches to the others as a gesture of friendship. A brand new theme could easily be adopted, with a good amount of focus and finesse.
They could do it, and they really didn’t want to say no to her… she looked so hopeful.
“um… i guess i could. you don’t really need to pay me or anything, though…
can i hear your current theme, just for reference?”
Her smile brightened yet again, a little bit giddy now. “Thank you so kindly, dearie! And, yes, I suppose it would be a bit important to have an idea of what you’re working with…”
Tick-tick-tick.
It was Napstablook’s turn first, but they weren’t actually fighting, so they didn’t even bother with their prized and special do-absolutely-nothing-and-apologize-for-it move. They could hear her theme, as clearly as it could be heard. They wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but they had to agree- it was a mess. Cacophonous. The timing on the beats was clumsy at best and just plain misplaced at worst.
“See what I mean? In a real fight, I’d get laughed right out of the underground! What if I face a human one day, or a spider-hater? I could never murder someone to this!” The smile curdled now with her obvious displeasure.
Despite being a mess, however, they could sense a really solid motif beneath the noise. Some really unique patterns, here and there- it was teeming with unrealized potential. Already they had so many ideas; a little repeat here, a drop there, some cleanup over here…
“…it’s not so bad, there’s some really good parts of it…. um, what exactly would you be looking for? intense? atmospheric?”
She hummed in consideration. “If this were a real battle, I’d have all my little lovelies alongside me… they really like to dance along to your more energetic tracks. Something with a catchy beat would do wonders for their morale!
Actually, dearie, I quite like your theme. Did you make it yourself? Modify it, I mean, of course you made it yourself…” She trailed off with an embarrassed, two-beat tee-hee.
“oh… yeah, sort of. i had a lot of help though…….”
They made sure not to talk about that last part further, cousin was a bit of a touchy subject and they really didn’t want to start crying in front of this lady. Instead, they thought about what she had said about their own theme. Funnily enough, the two tunes were rather similar, it wouldn’t be hard to use their own motif as a sort of base, and then pick and choose elements from hers to build on.
Already, they could hear the chorus of it in their head, an exciting melody preluded by a teasing build-up. They glanced at their computer with a muted, patient longing. Soon, they could get started; they just needed to get this nice person out of their house…
A rude thought, maybe, but they were far beyond their social interaction quota for the day, which typically was none at all.
“…i guess i have some ideas. i don’t know how long it will take, but i could probably get started right away…..” They found themselves caught between hoping that she hadn’t noticed that they were getting antsy at her continued presence and hoping that she had picked up on the cue.
“Wonderful! Thanks a million, dearie! Oh, here’s my card, in case you need to contact me;” Her fingers performed a swift, wavering dance, forming a small web sheet with a set of neat, cursive contact details in the center. P.O. Box 1821, Hotland L3. Hotland? That’s an awful long way to come to ask a favor. Whoever this mystery informant was, he must have had great things to say about them.
“And I’ll shoot you a letter in case something comes up, instead of visiting, so I don’t bother you.”
“…oh, don’t worry about that…… sorry if I made you feel unwelcome…… didn’t you say that you were raised to do things face-to-face…?”
She rose from the floor and smiled astutely as another faint giggle hummed between her fangs. “I was also raised to be an excellent liar.”
Napstablook’s stammering stopped her before she could reach the door. “…oh, wait… before you go…. please don’t tell anyone who i am, it’d mean a lot to me…..” They looked at the floor absentmindedly, having had enough ocular contact with this five eyed lady to last a millennium.
“Of course. Your secret is safe with me. Mettaton, too, I doubt he’d dare tell anyone else. The hounding I had to do to get that man to spill… Ahuhuhu, I don’t think you have anything to worry about! Farewell, dearie~”
With that, the door gave yet one more squeal of discontent and clicked shut. Napstablook considered that they ought to oil the hinges.
They also considered that the famous Mettaton apparently knew the true identity of DJ Dapper, let alone knew of them at all.
They also considered that they had spoken more in the last few minutes than in the rest of the month combined, at that left them feeling pretty exhausted.
They wondered, while gazing into the stars wavering around them, how the song should start.
…
The human’s arrival had been long foreshadowed by an especially familiar and glamorous fellow in a shifty cloak- it was far from a surprise when their feet got entangled within Muffet’s bridge of webbing. Such horrible things she had heard about this little demon. They hadn’t wanted a piece of her pastries, but she hoped they were hungry now, because they were about to have a cobweb topped piece of her mind. They’ll be eating, alright- A croissant boomerang to the face, that is. Spider squashing jerk. She wondered how she could use the leftovers- cider, perhaps. Run them through a juicer and bam, delicious, premium quality cider for at least a month, depending on how much blood was in them. If it came out too chunky, maybe she could brand it as a pasta sauce… there’d be a well-paying, albeit niche market for that.
An entrancing melody riffed to life as she weaved their soul into a web of purple, lifting her spirits considerably. She couldn’t stay angry when this lovely gift was playing in her ears. Her kin were all clapping along to the beat in anticipation.
“Ahuhuhu… what a lovely dance we’re going to have, human~!”