#[PAPER 1 HAS BEEN OVERDUE FOR SEVERAL DAYS]

[talonpaw]

dead week update: i’m officially working on paper 2 to procrastinate working on paper 1. can’t even procrastinate in the fun way anymore 😫

[quitealotofsodapop]

This all goes down while Wukong's dealing with the fallout of the Brotherhood. As much as Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy, and the Ao Longs want to stay with the monkies, especially after everything that happened, they have their own livelihoods to handle and by the time the Brotherhood had first started their coup they has already spent way too much time in the Celestial Realm. So ince they've verified Wukong would be... okayish, considering the massive changes in his life he's got going on, they return home to get their matters in order.

Tang has a lot of backlogged projects and research papers that are overdue for his career, to the point that he nearly lost his job over it. Luckily, the fact he was in the Celestial Realm itself means he could easily convince the board of directors he was just working on a massive, long-term project that took priority and involved preciously unknown information about Sun Wukong... which bought him time, but now he has to slemhow to get permission to reveal the whole "Wukong actually had a Mom" deal, presumably heavily edited to spare Wukong his privacy and the fact he most definitely does not want to have the bureaucratic nightmare he's dealing with follow him home to the mortal Realm if and when he's allowed home.

Pigsy Noodles had several competitors pop up with Pigsy absent and a massive loss of revenue as a result. The restaurant is straight up not doing well right now, and Pigay has to work overtime and a half to get back up to speed. The months Pigsy had spent in the Celestial Realm and on FFM had caused many loyal customers to seek food elsewhere, most assuming he'd closed down for some unknown reason. He has to fight to get them back now (which probably leads to Food Wars)

Sandy's job as a ferry man was not as heavily affected, but his job as a foster for many a cat is heavily affected. The sitter he hired hadn't been able to handle the sheer volume of cats he had, and the place was a mess! Luckily, sll the cats remained healthy in spite of the environment being less than ideal, but many of the newer fosters were back to square one on Sandh earning their trust.

And then Pigsy found a cat demon kitten in the dumpster.

Prev.

Yes! The Noodle Gang were able to support and care for Wukong when he was stationed on FFM, but now that he's a whole Realm away it's become a lot harder to do.

Even if LBD froze Megapolis for a bit, the world keeps turning.

They all have their own lives to attend to, no matter how much they wish to stay in the Celestial Realm. Especially since they aren't sure at first if the Celestial Realm has a time dilation problem like the myths say - luckily it turns out to be a mistranslation, "1 Celestial Day = 1 Earth Year" is a space/orbit thing, the days in Heaven are super long and it takes a whole earth year for a whole "day" to complete. But the guys arent taking chances.

Tang's gotta go back to work. Luckily the tasty lore and tomes he managed to scavange from the Imperial Library gives him a good excuse for his disappearance.

Pigsy is straight back into "the restaurant business is war"-mindset when he gets home. He may have served literal gods while he was away, but that means nothing if he's lost loyal patrons! He does get some odd-looking new customers that couldn't resist glamouring-up to taste "Marshal Canopy's decendant's" cooking though.

Sandy would not forgive himself if any of his foster cats got sick without him. He'd spend literal days inside tending only to them - exiting only to get deliveries and the odd ferrying job. He's been especially busy at the moment with "Little Lady" - a feral momma cat thats moved into the captain's bridge while he was gone, and has a runty blue-furred kitten who needs lots attention.

The Ao-Long couple have arguably more freedom than the rest of the gang, given their status as wealthy dragons. They easily explain the situation to the Dragon Kings and why they had to provide witness statements in a Celestial Trial - Ao Guang has been frozen stiff with terror for days at the thought of Sun Wukong multiplying. They're able to visit the monkeys more often than the others, especially since little Mei and Red Son are getting along so famously, and both have declared Xiaotian their duty to protect. The dragon couple are able to pass on messages and gifts between the monkeys and the Noodle Gang where it would have taken a lot longer otherwise.

The Noodle Gang try their best to visit the Celestial Realm when possible, mainly weekends. Tieshan is a big help with getting them there - Sandy's mechanical creations can only go so far (though little Red is fascinated with his attempts). They have to be careful though, like a casino it's easy to forget how much time is passing withthe super-long days - Tang has like a million alarms on his phone to remind them when to sleep and when to prepare for home. Its good to reconnect and bond with Wukong and his little family, but they often feel on measured time.

Then one night, as Pigsy was taking out the garbage;

Dumpster: (*loud crying/mewing* sounds*)

Pigsy, dread building: "Oh no..."

Pigsy dug around praying it was just a cat... only to half-right.

Pigsy, holding a baby cat-demon: "UHHH... Tangy!"

The next few hours are a blur.

Now both Pigsy and Tang are guardians to a tiny abandoned kitten they name "Bai He" - a little white lily sticking out amongst the grime of the alleyway. A quick freenoodles wedding may be required to help seal the adoption papers.

Sandy helps a lot when it comes to cat-specific problems the baby has ("We gotta help her go bathroom!?") in the coming weeks.

Pigsy is a natural father, he isn't sure what nonsense led to his baby girl being in his arms but he's glad she is right now. Bai He is his little princess, can't do no wrong. Tang fumbles a bit, but adapts quickly. Bai He loves listening to him tell fairytales and stories, even the one's she doesn't care for like the White Bone Spirit ("she sounds mean").

The ice powers come in later. They're super confused where those come from.

Wukong is *delighted* to have a new niece! And Xiaotian (now at toddling age) is super excited to meet a new baby in the troop!

[proximacentaurib]

alright this is for the second ask game, the 1-50 one

1, 2, 6, 10, 11, 13, 15 (i expect a classical and a periodic), 19, 23, 24, 33, 35, 40, 44, 47, 48, 48.5 (Describe yourself with one quote (be serious (no ironic humor))), 50

get perceived again bucko

Going to speed through answering these because I do have a paper to write and if I don’t answer this ask now then I’ll keep thinking about it instead of writing my overdue essay

1. Do you prefer writing with black or blue pen?

Honestly don’t have a strong preference but I’m leaning towards black

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or the city?

City, probably

6. Do you prefer baths or showers?

Showers. Baths got ruined for me in 6th grade when I overheard this girl telling her friend “ew omg you still take baths? I just think that’s gross. You’re like just sitting there in a soup of your own dirt. With showers it just washes right off” and I thought “man she has a point. Guess I’m never taking a bath again” and I kid you not I literally have not taken a single bath in the 8 years since

10. Do you like your name? Would you ever change it?

I think my name is cool as a name by itself but I actually kind of hate it (and have for the past several years) in reference to myself because the vibes are all off and it really just doesn’t feel like me. I forget I even have a name most of the time. Unfortunately no other names sound right either so I guess I’m stuck with this one

11. Who is a mentor to you?

I have been asked this question countless times in my life for random icebreaker questions and personality assessments and whatnot and I never had an answer because I don’t consider anyone a mentor. Like I do admire a fair number of people for different aspects and aspire to reach those levels, but none of that is mentorship

13. Are you a restless sleeper?

Not at all, as evidenced by the 15.5 consecutive hours of sleep I got the other day. I mean I will get bouts of insomnia occasionally but that’s been happening really rarely since I got out of high school

15. Which element best represents you?

Air, probably. When I was 4 I was genuinely convinced I had magic powers that let me control the wind, and I kept believing that until I was about 9

When Shem asked me this question the other day I think I did put bismuth down as an answer, or at the very least I considered adding that as an answer (genuinely don’t remember. What if I never even answered the ask and only imagined answering. What if there never was any ask. Who can say, really). But anyway I just think bismuth is cool. As for what periodic element actually represents my personality…maybe like argon or something. If I remember correctly the etymology of argon points back to “lazy”, and it’s also a noble gas and I’m not only the noblest person around but also the world champion of mental stability

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten?

I am an EXTREMELY picky eater so I avoid strange foods. I think my grandma made me try kholodets (meat jelly) when I was a kid and it was…not good, to say the least

23. Have you ever met someone famous?

Not like FAMOUS famous but I’ve gone to some book signings before if that counts??

24. Do you keep a diary or a journal?

Come on, you know the answer already. Do you really think someone who keeps a diary or journal or has literally any normal method of cataloguing daily events would act the way I do and have texting patterns as deranged as mine

33. What is your favorite scent?

I’m not particularly attuned to scents, so I don’t know. I like the way some of my favorite teas smell?

35. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life?

I would have so much cool art and so many cool other items and have the best interior decorations you’ll ever see in your life. And I will also be extremely humble about it

40. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it?

“Had to”? Are you trying to fucking kill me or something? I’d get a heart attack and die instantly at the first touch of the…apparatus (forgot what they’re called. The multi-needle contraptions with the ink. Is there even a word for that?). I also don’t have any pictures in mind

44. If you could travel back to any era, which would you choose?

I don’t know, I don’t care enough about the past to have an answer for this. Maybe I could silently skulk around Ancient Rome or something

EDIT: this isn’t a historical era but it’s an era to ME and I’m the only one that matters here. I would travel 4 years into the past because I have quite a few bones to pick with my 15-year-old self. I think a punch or two and several bits of prophetic advice should be able to solve and/or prevent a good amount of the issues I graduated high school with

47. How would you spend your ideal day?

Genuinely don’t know what would actually qualify as “ideal” but just any day where I can comfortably hang out with friends, I guess. My standards are extremely low so I will genuinely be overjoyed to do people’s chores for them or something

48. Describe yourself using one word

Halfhearted

48.5. Describe yourself using one quote

First one that came to mind was this quote from Crime and Punishment:

“Existence alone had never been enough for him; he had always wanted more.”

Second one that came to mind was this quote from Shriek:

“He is not a human being at all, but composed entirely of digressions and transgressions.”

Third quote that came to mind:

“You are the smartest funniest coolest most awesome most amazing most talented most beautiful most brilliant most well-rounded most amicable most enlightened brightest warmest kindest and overall best entity in this whole galaxy” —my legion of 20000 devoted fans

50. Invent your own word. What does it mean?

What, like on the spot? Uhhhhh blorgle and it’s what I did to your mom last night

There, finally done after 30+ minutes. God I am so far behind on this paper it’s insane

[wondernimbus]

stressful times — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

request #1: Can I request soft Fred Weasley comforting his girlfriend when she’s not feeling well/on her period and falling behind in classes/ homework? Pretty please 🥺

request #2: Can you write a Fred x reader where the reader is on her period while at Hogwarts during a time when a lot of tests are happening and she needs to be studying but isn’t and Fred notices cause usually she’s like Hermione and always does homework/studies and he figures out why she isn’t and helps her feel better? 

a/n: THIS IS WAY OVERDUE IM SORRY but i decided to combine these 2 reqs bc they were pretty similar !! 

[Y/N] is stressed.

School has never been a piece of cake for anyone—not even for Hermione Granger, who is one of the brightest people at Hogwarts, and certainly not for her, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Chasers, and on top of that, a prefect currently studying for her N.E.W.Ts.

Wood expects her to practice out by the Quidditch pitch every free period in preparation for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. This goes for every member of the team—even the ones who, like [Y/N], are studying for the so-called "big exams". And despite [Y/N] wanting to do well in her tests, she also doesn't want to lose her position in the Quidditch team—so she goes to the practice sessions, anyway, even if it's at the cost of her sleep.

That—coupled with her prefect duties and schoolwork—is wearing her out. So far she has managed to miraculously plow through, but when that time of the month comes and she can barely even bring herself to get out of bed, [Y/N] begins to wonder whether giving up would be a better option.

She could do it. Drop everything and lay in bed all day for the next week or so with a bag of chocolates at her side and pillows cushioning her entire body.

She could—technically, anything in the world is possible—but she shouldn’t, because she has obligations. Prefect tasks; patrolling the corridors and making sure no first-years go astray in the Forbidden Forest (it already happened once—she's not going to let it happen again), N.E.W.T. revisions, homework, Quidditch practice, homework, and then even more homework—

The very moment she wakes up and feels the pain in her lower abdomen, she knows she is done for. She only barely drags herself out of bed and trudges to her classes the entire day feeling like pure and utter dung. Her entire body is sore and her entire mood cranky, but that hardly matters because she has homework to do. And classes to go to. And Quidditch practice and patrolling and studying and Merlin-knows-what-else.

The sourness of her mood doesn't go amiss by any of her friends, and certainly not by her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, who automatically just knows when something is out of the ordinary with her. And while her friends decide to leave her alone after noting her less than pleasant mood, Fred does quite the opposite.

Which is, of course, no different from what he does everyday: stick by her side like glue. And while they'd been best friends for a while, it's only been a few months since Fred finally sucked up the courage to ask her out. So naturally Fred has very little experience with, ah, women’s dilemmas.

To put it simply, he doesn't know how to deal with a girl on her bloody (no pun intended) period. For the love of Merlin, he can't even tell.

So he's a little surprised and his feelings are a teeny bit hurt when he nudges her in the middle of Charms class and whispers, "Was that an earthquake? Or did you just rock my world?" only for her to shake her head without even as much as looking at him.

And so Fred's thought process goes like this: he's done something terribly wrong. He doesn't know what, but he must have, and now he has to make up for it—whatever it is.

First, though, he has to figure out what.

—

It's midnight. [Y/N] doesn't know how on earth she managed to get through the entire day without passing out, but she did and now here she is in the nearly empty common room, sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace with several sheets of parchment and open textbooks splayed out before her.

Jotting down History of Magic notes, her face is scrunched up in the utmost concentration. Fred watches her from where he's sitting on the couch, pouting a little.

"Don't you think you should be resting by now?" tries Fred, the concern in his voice audible as his gaze darts from her to her homework.

She doesn't respond. Fred sighs and gets up off the couch to sit down next to her on the ground. But even then, she doesn't look up from her homework, so Fred takes matters into his own hands and reaches out with his hand to gently cup her cheek, trying to tilt her head towards him.

"Not now, Fred.." she mutters, leaning away from him a little to keep writing. His hand hovers in mid-air, fingers now just barely brushing her face as she's moved away. "I have to.. finish this.."

Her tongue is poking out in concentration as she almost feverishly moves her quill over paper. Fred tries not to feel too dejected and lets her be, waiting until she's broken out of her trance enough to grab her attention again. In the meantime, he props his elbows on his knees, the pout on his lips very much evident as he watches her work. He still doesn't know why she's been acting so distant, and no matter how much he tries to mull things over in his brain, he still doesn't know why exactly she's angry at him. Or if she even is angry.

Was his pick-up line really that bad? Could it maybe be because he'd kept trying to play with her hair in potions class the other day? Or is it because of what he did last week, when he’d talked McGonagall’s ear off about how wonderful a girlfriend he had? Maybe Fred should've been a bit more considerate—[Y/N] has always been a teacher's pet, after all, and he knows that the teachers themselves were surprised when they found out that she was dating him, one-half of the devious Weasley twins who had six O.W.L.s combined..

[Y/N]'s hand stills, and for a moment Fred thinks she's finally finished her homework, but her shoulders have bowed a little and her eyes have closed. The effect this image has on Fred is instantaneous: the pout on his lips is replaced quickly by a fond smile as he lets out a quick breath of slightly dubious laughter and moves to gently tap her on the shoulder.

Slowly, slowly, her eyes blink open.

Another tiny laugh. "You fell asleep for a second there, love," says Fred softly, hand moving to touch her hair, and he's so bloody endeared by her it hurts. Voice a mere mumble like he’s afraid of speaking too loud, he says, "Reckon we should turn in for the night, yeah? You and me both."

There's silence as she exhales, leaning into his touch almost unconsciously as her eyes close and her shoulders slump. "I'm really tired," she tells him quietly, nose wrinkling a little as her mouth stretches open in a yawn. (Good grief, Fred's heart aches.) He scoots forward a little into her, gathering her into his lap where she almost automatically curls up, head on his shoulder and her lips just barely grazing the side of his neck.

Fred can't even remember what he'd been agonizing over just moments before. All his fluttering heart cares about at the moment is his sleepy girlfriend, who's shifting a little in his lap to get herself more comfortable, mumbling something inaudible in her half-asleep state. He has to physically suppress himself from throwing his head back and laughing out loud, because something about the situation he's in is making him feel oddly euphoric. He only has to think about if for a few moments before he realizes why: it's because of how adorable she's being. And Fred’s heart might be melting in his chest—should he be concerned?

"I'm gonna carry you up to your dorm, okay?" says Fred, tone just loud enough to make himself heard but quiet and soft enough so as to not jar her awake. He feels her nod a little against his shoulder. Carefully, he gets to his feet, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back the way a groom would carry his bride. (The thought crosses Fred's head very briefly and just like that he's smiling goofily to himself.)

And the moment is romantic and intimate in a quiet, calming way, until Fred makes the big mistake of murmuring, "I'll fix up your homework and bring it to you so you can work on it tomorrow" and [Y/N] quite literally freezes in his arms. Her entire body goes rigid.

"Homework. Oh, crap." Fully awake now, she lifts her head off of his shoulder, looks back at her pile of homework still on the ground, and then, her panicked eyes meeting his, she says, "Oh, no. No. I can't—I've got to get it done now, Fred."

An incredulous sound tumbles past his lips. "I could've sworn you were asleep two seconds ago.”

She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds before peeling them open again. Fred notes that the bags under them look even more pronounced up close; something that has him frowning at her. “Put me down, please? I really have to get that essay done."

He huffs, shakes his head, and starts walking towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. "What—" [Y/N] yelps, looking up at him with an expression that suggests he’s admitted to strangling a rabbit. "Fred, I said put me down—"

"And let you work yourself to death? No can do, love." Fred looks down at her, lips pressed together in a sorry smile as he shakes his head. He lifts his gaze back away from her as he begins climbing up the steps, trying not to jostle [Y/N] too much in his arms. His tone sing-song, he says, “You need to rest. The essay can wait."

[Y/N] opens her mouth to predictably retaliate, but Fred stops halfway up the staircase and presses a kiss to her lips, effectively cutting her off. At first she’s stiff, but it only takes her a few seconds to relax and melt into him.

When Fred pulls away with one last peck to the lips, he smiles down at her, eyes twinkling. “Have I changed your mind with my superior snogging skills?”

Unable to help herself, she lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. But even then her gaze lingers on her homework, still on the floor in front of the fireplace—totally not yet finished—

“But I’ve only got a few pages left to go,” she says in one last stroke of adamancy.

”And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you stay up all night without getting enough sleep?” They’ve reached the top of the staircase now, and Fred is fumbling with the doorknob of her dorm room, trying to open it with one hand without having to set her down.

“But Freddy.”

Fred pauses trying to open the door, lips unconsciously twitching up into an incredulous grin as he raises his eyebrows at her. Of course she had to use his one big weakness against him—he loves when she calls him Freddy. Or perhaps love is a severe understatement, because he always goes all putty in her hands whenever she sings it into his ear or shouts it at him from all the way across the hallways.

But Fred isn’t having it, not this time. “But [Y/N],” he mimics her tone, still grinning, and the voice in his heart tells him to peck her lips again, so he does. “I'm telling you, love, you need sleep. And besides, we’re already here—once I get this door open—aha!”

The door clicks open and reveals behind it the dark seventh year girls’ dorm room. Fred peers inside, unsure as he steps a single hesitant foot through the door, and then he withdraws back into the landing. “Suppose I'll have to drop you off here,” tuts Fred. “Can’t really barge into an all-girls dorm room in the middle of the night—even when I’m with you. Mum would have my head.” Gingerly, he sets her down on the ground, making sure she’s standing up completely before he takes his hands away. Grinning, he holds his palm out towards her and says, “That’ll be twenty galleons.”

”I didn’t even ask for—“

“A kiss, then.”

And her incomplete homework is still lingering in her head, bothering her—she really does need to have that done at least before breakfast tomorrow—but Fred is standing in front of her with the same playful smile that [Y/N] has never learned to resist so she sighs and stands on her tip-toes, places her hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.

Fred is smiling—she can feel it against her lips. Eventually she starts smiling too, unable to help herself. When she pulls away, Fred cups her cheeks in his hand and pecks her forehead—and then her nose, and her cheeks, and her eyelids, and then she’s laughing, saying, “What are you doing?”

Fred lands another kiss to the tip of her nose, then drops his hands back to his sides. “You look far too lovely for someone in dire need of sleep.”

At the mention of sleep, a yawn tears its way out of her throat. Fred has to restrain himself from doubling over and sobbing because Merlin’s beard was that adorable.

”Fine,” [Y/N] says through yet another yawn, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I am tired.”

Fred gasps far too dramatically. “Who ever could have guessed?”

[Y/N] may be sleepy, but she still has enough strength within her to reach out and shove him lightly by the shoulder. Fred is as theatrical as always; he clutches the spot where she’d touched him as though he’s been fatally wounded.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. Another yawn. Fred drops his act and shoves his hands into his pockets, expression somber as he looks at her, eyes dancing over her own tired ones. “Go get some sleep, alright?”

She purses her lips, shoulders slumping in defeat as she nods. “Okay. Suppose I’ll just try to finish it as fast as I can tomorrow.” And then, voice going soft, she says, “Thanks, Fred.”

Fred is so goddamned endeared.

“And. Um.”

”Yes?”

“Sorry about being so bloody cranky. I'm—“ she pauses, eyes darting away for a moment as she gestures wildly to nothing in particular.

Fred raises his eyebrows.

“On my period,” she mutters. “Have I made it awkward? I'm sorry. I just didn’t want you to think you’d done something wrong for me to be acting.. you know.”

Fred’s brows have risen so far up his forehead he’s surprised they haven’t disappeared into his hair. His mouth has fallen open a little in surprise; whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. But part of him is relieved at the knowledge that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting like someone pissed in your tea,” says Fred teasingly. She rolls her eyes again—another yawn; the largest one so far, actually. He can’t help the fond laugh that tears its way out of his heart and past his lips. Reaching out, he places a hand on the back of her head and kisses her forehead. “Sweet dreams, love.”

She wraps her arms around his middle and nods into his chest, and Fred’s heart melts. “You too, Freddy.”

—

The next morning, [Y/N] wakes up to a mysteriously completed set of History of Magic homework and a bag of Honeydukes' chocolates on her bedside table.

[arashikitten]

“I am Danny Phantom”

Who knew that four words were all it took to turn someone’s entire life on its head? Well, Valerie knew, her father being fired and her subsequently being dropped by the A-listers proved that, but....

Danny Fenton. The small, quiet, funny, space-obsessed, sleep-deprived, nervous guy who slept in class, made puns out of everything, her boyfriend... was Phantom. The ghost who had ruined her life, who was a menace to the town, who had committed several crimes including kidnapping the mayor. They were the same person.

Her suit was on before she could blink, guns powering up and aimed at Phantom- Fenton- Danny.

“One reason. Give me one. Goddamned. Reason why I shouldn’t put a hole in your head.” Everything was red. She felt nothing but the blood in her veins turning into fire, only heard the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. It would be so, so easy to turn this... this monster into a pile of ectoplasm. All it would take was one little blast...

“Because it was an accident.”

Silence. It rang in her ears like a gunshot, quieting the pounding of her heart like the forest before the storm. Where her anger was once fiery red, now it was cold, calm blue, freezing everything in her path.

“What?” Her voice sounded flat, no hint of anger, and yet the ghost shuffled back slightly, wringing it’s... his hands nervously. (Somewhere in the back of her mind, a part of her recognized that was a habit of Fentons, that Danny- no, Fenton has been doing that earlier. Valerie shut that thought down before it reached farther into her head.)

“It was an accident. That ghost dog... Cujo, he- he was, um, looking for his- his toy because he’d been euthanized by Axion labs after they got the, uh, new security systems. He was just loking for his toy.”

“Then why were you there, spook?”

A pause. He was wringing his hands again. It caught her off guard slightly, how... human he looked. If you took away the glow and bright white hair, he could’ve easily passed as a normal highschooler. (That’s because he is human, part of her mind screeched at her. That’s your boyfriend for fucks sake, it said. Again, she shut it out.)

“I can sense them. The ghosts, I mean. Whenever one shows up, there’s this sort of... smoke, kinda, that I breathe. And that’s how I know if one’s around. So that night, when- when Cujo showed up, I sensed him and went to check it out. I never meant to get your father fired, or to- to fuck the place up as bad as I did. I’m sorry.”

Anger bubbled up in her again. He thought- he really fucking thought that a simple damned apology fixed that? Hell no! He’d screwed over her entire life, got her father fired, committed several crimes, and he thought a simple ass ‘I’m sorry’ would fix it?

She took aim, charging up her blasters.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. You’re a ghost, a crook, and a thief. And I’ll be doing the whole world a favor by getting rid of you.”

Her blasters were charged up. All it would take now was for her to-

“Then do it.”

Valerie almost dropped her blaster. Had- had she heard that right? She stared at Phantom.

He was rooted to the spot, arms down by his sides, eyes scrunched shut. He was still in his ghost form, but he wasn’t levitating.

What in the hell?

“What do you mean ‘then do it’?” You’re not- you’re not even gonna try to fly off?”

“No.”

“Why?”

At that, Danny- no, Phantom opened his eyes. He looked, scared. Sad. Like he had seen a massacre, or a war.

“A couple of weeks ago... when- when we were about to take the CAT... I- well I got the answer key to the test. And... I wasn’t in a great place, mentally, at the time. I mean, I’m still not, but... it was different, in a way. But basically, what, well, what happened was that I was so stressed out, because I was trying to protect the town and my friends from ghosts, and my parents were just getting worse about trying to hunt me down, and my grades are already shit, and Mr. Lancer kept saying that this test would determine my future and I just...” Danny stopped, shaking and hugging himself. He looked.... Valerie didn’t think she’d ever seen him look this distraught, as Phantom or Fenton. It made something in her chest tighten, made her stomach twist.

“I... I had the answers. And I was already so worried about... well, everything, that I decided to cheat. I figured that maybe I could just do it one time, and then that’d be it, you know? But... of course, of course, it couldn’t be that simple.” Now he sounded... tired. Worn, and not in a good way, more like a war veteran disallusioned with the world. (Something in Valerie told her that maybe this was the real Danny, the part of him he refused to show anyone. The tired fighter who wanted nothing more than to be able to go to sleep without worrying if he was going to wake up with a gun pointed at him.. or if he would wake up at all.)

“Essentially what happened was that Sam, Tucker and I got sort of... teleported about ten years into the future, and... apparently me cheating on one stupid test leads to the end of the world, because Mr. Lancer would find out that I had cheated and would call a meeting with my parents at the Nasty Burger, which would then blow up and kill my friends and family.” Danny was shaking now, arms wrapped around himself as though he was trying to protect himself from his own words.

“That, in turn, lead to me tearing the ghost part out of me, which then proceeded to fuse with Vla- the Wisconsin Ghost. When- well, when that happened, it- drove my ghost half.... I-insane. And then he was killing people all over and... and I- I killed people in that timeline! I did the- the one thing I said I would never fucking do, and I killed someone.”

Danny was on his knees now, quietly sobbing. His black hair (when had he turned back?) shone in the sun.

Valerie was rooted to the spot. How in the hell did someone deal with that? Fuck, how in the hell would someone deal with any of this? In the span of about thirty minutes, Valerie had discovered that not only was her boyfriend dead, but was the town’s widely considered hero and had apparently fought an evil version of his future self and had almost seen all of his friends and family die.

And, to top it all off, he’d discovered that not only were his own parents hunting him, but she was too. Valerie felt sick.

Jesus. Just how much shit had she put him through? Fuck- was that why he was so nervous about telling her he was Phantom? Granted she was still pissed at him, but not for the Cujo thing. Not really.

“Danny.” He looked up at her, and she felt something in her chest break at just how scared and sad he looked. Was this the sort of shit he had to deal with every damn day? All that fear, over being hunted, or experimented on, or getting everyone he loved killed- was this how he felt all the time?

Slowly, Valerie stepped towards him and knelt down. Her eyes never left his.

“Danny. I care... so, so much about you. You... you were the first person to really give a shit about me, after the A-listers dropped me.”

Immediately he tensed, and distress filled his eyes.

“I’m-“

“Nope, don’t, stop. You’re not apologizing. Not right now. Maybe later. Not fucking now.”

He fell silent, eyes wide and searching. Still scared, still tense.

“You love space, and puns. Your favorite video game is Doom 4 even though you’ve never won. Your favorite subject is science, you’ve always wanted a dog, and you doodle in the margins of your paper when your bored.” Valerie paused.

Danny seemed to be noticeably more relaxed, as he was no longer gripping his knees so hard that his knuckles (how had she not noticed the scars? They weren’t exactly small.) were white. Good.

“You adore your mom and dad, even if they embarrass you all the time. You look up to your sister more than anyone on the planet, even if you don’t act it. You don’t make friends often, but when you do you stick with them through hell or high water. You’re incredibly smart when it comes to science and math, even if you have bad grades. And above all, you care so much about bathe people around you. You sacrifice everything, your grades, your relationships, your time, to help people who you think need it. And that applies to phantom and Fenton.”

He was crying again. But this time, there was a small, shaky sort of smile there, one that said something like this was looong overdue.

Slowly, Valerie recalled her suit, and wrapped her arms around Danny in a loose hug. He hugged back burying his face into her shoulder as he shook.

They would be okay. They’d figure it out, eventually.

But for now, they just enjoyed the relief in each other.

——————————

Aaaaand that’s a wrap folks! Part three is finally here! Not gonna lie, I wrote this in the span of about two and a half hours on mobile from 9 to about 11:20 pm, so apologies if there are any inconsistencies.

That being said, I would like to do a poll. I have about 120 followers and I was wondering if I should write something special for y’all once I reach 150. So, would you rather I write:

1) a Danny phantom/Rise of the Guardians crossover,

2) a Danny Phantom TUE! Au fic,

Or

3) part 3 of my Glass ghost au?

Comment your choice below and have a happy weekend or whatever.

[gstqaobc]

🇨🇦🇬🇧🇨🇦STOP THE PRESSES🇬🇧🇨🇦🇬🇧

STOP PRESS: We thought you'd be delighted to hear that, thanks to members’ generosity, our first advertising about the League for many years in La Belle Province appeared today in the leading newspaper of Quebec City, Le Soleil. If you would like to receive a pdf copy of the ad, please request by return email.   ECOMM 8.5.21 A JUBILEE BLESSING...OUR THANKS... LEAGUE FLAGS - again available LEAGUE TARTAN SCARF - update and last but not least A SPRING SALE OF MONARCHICAL ITEMS PLATINUM JUBILEE MEDAL Our thanks to the many members who told us they have contacted their MP and the Prime Minister’s office to express their support for the issuance of this Medal in the Canadian tradition.  We look forward to hearing of replies any of you may receive; and we ask you keep up the chain of advocacy by thinking of friends to whom you can send our original message, and urge then to participate in our efforts. A BLESSING ON THE QUEEN IN THE IROQUOIAN TRADITION A member of the UEL Association who is a Kanienkehaka Embassador at Large, wrote to the League as follows: Please remember our Mohawk members, who would like to express our good wishes and thanksgivings to our Sister. You may be familiar with our ceremonial blessings, and the thanksgiving address to be offered before all matters; it is an Iroquoian custom:

Next year marks the 70th Anniversary of The Queen’s reign. Our Monarchy has never before seen a Platinum Jubilee! Thus the occasion calls for celebration, thanksgiving and above all, a sense of gratitude and unity. LEAGUE FLAGS NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER AT DISCOUNTED RATE With hundreds of new members in recent months, the League has received a number of requests as to when we will re-issue the League Flag. Part of our Armorial Bearings, it bears a Royal Crown by personal permission of Her Majesty The Queen. Produced for many years by our friends at the Flag Shop, it is ideal for your den or boathouse, a kid's bedroom, college dorm - with grommets so it can if you wish also be flown on a flag pole outdoors Its dimensions are 24 x 42 inches, and it is made of 200d nylon.  We order and keep only a limited stock, so as not to tie up funds in inventory, as it is a specialty item. PRE-PRODUCTION SPECIAL: $85 INCLUDES POSTAGE LIMIT: TWO PER MEMBER If you wish to reserve a Flag (we should receive it in around three weeks) kindly access the League’s online store at https://store.monarchist.ca/en/products and make a “Fighting Fund” donation for $85.  We will know your purpose, and get a Flag right off to you once we have received them.   THE LEAGUE’S TARTAN SCARF Progress Report Thanks to our friend Matthew Rowe, who runs the Prince of Wales-patron Campaign for Wool in Canada, we have located a UK manufacturer who is willing to manufacture scarves in a small quantity by commercial standards. The fine Tartan chosen by you, and designed by our member Carol Martin, will be woven of  wool, sized 180cm (app 70 in) X 30cm (app 11½ in) with tassels of 7cm (app 2 3/4 in). We will approve the cloth material this coming week. It appears a custom label may be expensive given the quantity required - we will do our best to resolve that issue and deal with somewhat tiresome but important details remaining, such as the method of shipping to Canada and potential duty and taxes. It is our hope to come up with firm pricing in June, and shortly after to solicit pre-orders within the price range acceptable to the several hundred members who expressed interest in a scarf.  All of which is to say - we are on track, and look forward to producing and getting to you the League’s first - and long overdue - piece of apparel suitable for both women and men!   AND NOW.... WHAT (SOME OF) YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR... OUR SPRING SALE! These monarchical souvenirs, for one reason or another not suited to our annual Silent Online Auction in September, have been donated to the League in recent months. Many would be suitable for young people to interest them in the Monarchy and history. IF YOU WANT TO PURCHASE AN ITEM/ITEMS, PLEASE CONTACT US FIRST TO MAKE SURE YOUR CHOICES ARE STILL AVAILABLE. WE WILL THEN CALCULATE THE POSTAGE APPLICABLE TO YOUR ORDER, AND GIVE YOU A LIMITED TIME TO PAY ONLINE VIA THE LEAGUE STORE, THE ONLY FORM OF PAYMENT FOR THIS SALE, BEFORE MAKING THEM AVAILABLE TO THE NEXT MEMBER REQUESTING. 1) THREE CORONATION 1953 MAGAZINES The Sphere, Illustrated, and The Illustrated London News, lovingly used condition, each telling the story of the Coronation as only the British can do!  The advertising is fascinating, too. These will be enjoyed as living images and texts describing the beginning of a glorious Reign! $20 2) SIX ROYAL SOUVENIR PUBLICATIONS Maclean’s magazine’s tribute to Diana on her death; Pitkin glossy colour booklet Charles and Diana’s Wedding day; The Queen’s Silver Jubilee Pitkin-sized booklet; another similar-sized booklet by Ronald Allison: The Queen - The Life and Work of Elizabeth II; Illustrated London News Royal Year 1986; Illustrated London Newscoverage of The Marriage of Princess Anne, 1973. $25 3) HMY BRITANNIA POSTER Sized app. 16 x 20 inches, a glossy photographic portrait (2002) of The State Rooms aboard Britannia.  Especially appropriate now that the Yacht is, in a way, to be replaced by the HMS Prince Philip. In a tube with Britannia-watermarked tissue paper and a gold Britannia seal, we suspect it was sold at the resting place of the ship, now a tourist attraction. Some water stains. Will need to be dry mounted to remove creases from rolling, after which it will occupy pride of place in a den, a kid’s bedroom or a man cave! $25 4) A CRAZY FUN ITEM: COLOUR RUBBER 3-D DIANA KEYCHAIN You will never lose your keys with this app 1 3/4 inch high rubberized moulded Diana key chain! We’ve not seen anything like it previously. You might well use it - or display it as a sure conversation-starter on a shelf, perhaps next to a bobbling Queen! $20 5) SILVER JUBILEE MEDALLION & CHARLES AND “LADY DIANA SPENCER” WEDDING CROWN Both 1 1/2 inch diameter. Gold-coloured Souvenir medallion bears profile of The Queen, 1977, with a  surround referencing the Jubilee. The Crown, encased in a plastic holder by the Westminster Bank, is official coinage from 1983, with the usual image of The Sovereign on front, and verso, a profile of Charles and Diana with a surround referencing the occasion and year. $25 

(the mark on the Royal Arms is not a defect, but a seller's sticker that is not on our plate)6) UNUSUAL, RATHER-MODERN IN DESIGN, SOUVENIR PLATE FOR SILVER JUBILEE - BY WEDGEWOOD A heavy 10" plate produced by Wedgewood in 1977, respectful and colourful, but, in our view, not really “traditional” and thus of special interest. A deep blue silhouette of Thhe Queen in centre, surrounded by the Garter motto, with tne lancets extending which depict Heralds, Guardsmen and elements of the Household Cavalry and one Royal Shield surmounted by the Crown. Many decorative flowers, Rim references the Jubilee and states “God Save The Queen.” Crimson tracery surrounds the plate. Condition: as new $35   (The picture is the Van Dyke etching of the King, whose image appears in the framed print offered below)

7) A CANADIAN-FRAMED PRINT OF KING CHARLES ENGRAVING After the original by Van Dyke, the engraving from the original owned by the Earl of Pembroke, it is unusually but attractively framed, we believe in pine, ready to hang, with modern “Art handmade Plaque Canada” sticker on back. The entire object is app 10 x 13 inches, with the engraving proper about 5 ½ x 10 inches. Condition - engraving darkened by age but distinct; frame: excellent; print: slight water-stain foxing at bottom adds authenticity rather than detracting from the overall appearance. $50 8) BOOK: CHARLES & DIANA VISIT CANADA Vivid colour pictures, hardback, published by Collins, and covering many moments from the Royal couple’s 17-day first visit to Canada in 1983.  Condition: excellent. $15 9-14) LIVING HISTORY: DRY-MOUNTED ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHS From the collection assembled by the federal government in Diamond Jubilee year, these are terrifically “usable” as, hard mounted without “frames” they are light in weight - and ready-to hang in your den, or child’s room, or to fill a wall with multiple pictures! All are app 10 x 14 inches b&w unless noted otherwise. We will advise you of the postage cost at time of your inquiry, as this varies considerably depending on your postal code.  If anyone wishes to purchase all seven of these at a favourable price, please contact us immediately. 9.    In colour: Prince Edward in his late teens, a broad smile on his face as he leans against an oak and relaxes on autumn leaves with his Labrador Retriever.    $15 10.    Front cover of Paris Match depicting The Queen returning in the Golden Coach from her Coronation, Orb and Sceptre displayed, and Prince Philip by her side. $20 11.    Princess Elizabeth on the telephone in her office at Buckingham Palace, 1946.        $15 12.    In colour: The Good King, George VI of late, happy and beloved memory, wearing a tan jacket - a reflective portrait on the grounds of Buckingham Palace.    $25 13.     The Princesses Elizabeth & Margaret Rose, probably just after the war, looking ready to go out for an evening in lovely beaded formal dresses. $20 14.    Our favorite of this tranche of pictures. Colour shot of the Royal Family, shortly after the War, in the Palace Gardens. The King, The Queen and the Princesses are seated on wicker chairs - with Elizabeth’s dog beside her. This happy family - “we four” - exemplifies the bequest of a happy, close family life that made our Queen such an extraordinary person. $30 15.    Colour 3/4 length study of a beaming Princess Elizabeth, hands clasped in front, on her 19th birthday.    $25 16.    The shade of the Abdication not yet visible, this 1936 picture shows the future King and Queen as Duke & Duchess of York at the door of their Piccadilly residence, with a serious-looking Elizabeth holding her Mother’s forearm. $25  

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BEING A PROUD MEMBER OF THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF 🇨🇦 CANADA 🇨🇦 

💜🙏🏻🙂✝️💟PG💟✝️🙂🙏🏻💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[iamnightduchess]

WIP: Chills (T, Modern AU)

Summary:

A grieving mother finds herself confronting the shadows of her guilt, the long overdue failing of her marriage and memories of the one who could have been the moment they wheeled in an injured soldier from Marley straight into her operating room. The day she saved the life of Vice Commander Braun of Marley’s prized Titan unit was also the day he saved her own lost soul in return.

More often, memories may be lost forever but the heart never lies. He still makes shivers dance down her spine heading down to her feet just like he used to do twelve years ago and his heart still beats as hard for her the same way. Even when he can’t ever remember why. ReinerxMikasa. Modern + SnK HighSchool (Attack on High School Caste) AU.

Ship(s): Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa)

AU: Love Like This

-----

Snippet:

June 9, Present Year

Trost Military Hospital, Paradis

The sounds of her boots stepping hurriedly on the polished floors resonated against the clean, white walls of the hallways in hollowed echoes. A voice caught her dead in her tracks as soon as she turned into the corner leading into the more secluded operations wing of the hospital’s main building.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Jeager?” A young man, who seemed to be waiting anxiously near the entrance to the operating theatre DM05, approached her as soon as she came into his view. From his security tag and the embroidered emblem on his coat, it was very apparent that he is the personnel from Marley that she’s supposed to be liaising with on the emergency procedure she was called in for.

After quite some time, she casually corrected this stranger’s greeting underneath her breath. “It’s actually Dr. Ackerman now.”

“I’m sorry?” Perplexed, the man, still apologized for his potential blunder yet his tone remained polite despite the obvious confusion in his tone. “Also, I'm very sorry, I might have a misguided notion that the famous neurosurgeon in Paradis would be a--”

She turned her head to the side. “Some old, bearded guy with a bad sense of humor?” She couldn’t hold back the untimely humor laced with cynical sarcasm within her own voice.

She could see the other young man began to swallow a metaphorical knot nervously down his own throat and his trickling sweat didn’t help her observation either. “You’re not wrong actually. The original Dr. Jeager, my foster father, had been the famous one. Not me.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jeager, I mean Ackerman. I got confused.”

“No harm done.” Even she would be confused at her own status. She shook her head, dismissing her own earlier persistence in wanting to be addressed with her own maiden name again. A stranger doesn’t need to know her personal issues or the status of her marriage.

But she really needed to sort this shit out with the administration before more people get confused.

Nevertheless, she prompted for the attending personnel to continue his words.

“Thank you so much for scrubbing in. I’m Marcus Daniels, the attending physician for the patient. We apologize for this short notice but since it’s summer break, all of our neurosurgeons are away for volunteering or break. Rest assured, we have received the signed disclaimer from the patient’s next of kin, his mother, along with the referral from Marley’s Military Hospital. The paperwork has been received by the administration. We’re good to proceed with the emergency procedure.”

The raven-haired woman shook her head, disregarding the standard same ‘ole assurance from the Medical Officer who was tasked to accompany the Marleyan patient currently in between life and death on that table inside her Operation Theatre. Her patients’ lives take precedence before any incidents that could warrant a potential lawsuit. She gestured for the MO to follow suit as she put on the green scrubs and surgical cap available inside the prep room. “Walk with me, Daniels. Give me a brief of the patient. How long ago was the initial contact?”

“Male, 31, a military vet from Marley’s prized Special Ops Unit. The reported time of the initial impact was twelve hours ago. Patient’s BP is stable, X-ray did not display any shrapnels, bullet’s still in one piece but the bleeding unfortunately, had begun to spread to the patient’s medial temporal lobe since six hours ago….and...well….”

They stopped short just in front of the door that leads to the main wash area of the operating room. Her nose picked up the overwhelming scent of industrial disinfectant coming from behind that door. Her eyes leered back at the MO, her forehead creased in reaction to the other man’s trailing words. She did not like that tone or even the single last word of his sentence at all. “What is it?”

“Ma’am, the First Response team had to perform an emergency resuscitation and this could not be just an on-site training incident. There was an excessive amount of Paxil together with alcohol from the patient’s digestive tract. Patient was under the influence right before he went in to support the unit’s rookie training. Bloodwork confirmed this.” The young man, who looked like he’s only several years younger than she is, could only shook his head in absolute empathy.

Paxil and liquor are a deadly mix. The patient must have been aware of his own prescriptions. There was an immediate flash of concern upon her face before she pressed for a confirmation to her impulsive suspicion; asking, “C-PTSD? ‘Intentional’ incident?” She couldn’t possibly be discreet if she’s dealing with more than just the life of a war veteran on the line. An unstable patient with self-harming tendencies requires a much delicate approach especially if the injuries sustained by the patient would require a full invasive craniotomy to stop the source of bleeding from the bullet.

The MO shook his head in return. “We can’t rule that out or in yet without looking into the patient’s psych eval records. Those files are sealed by the Psychiatric unit in Marley, Dr. Jea-Ackerman. We’d need a referral from your Psychiatrist here to access those files after for the patient's recovery.”

“There’s no time to waste then.” There was a short pause in her words as she pressed a digital button on the room’s intercom system. “Nurse Rheinberger, Dr. Ackerman in OT-DM05. Code Blue. Requesting assistance to page Dr. Ian Dietrich, Psychiatry to support emergency neurosurgery a.s.ap. Over.”

She turned her head back to the young MO and inquired as a formality, even though she was very aware that the patient had been placed under anesthesia. “Patient’s name?”

“Uhm…” Daniels flipped open the paper folder in his hands and read the patient’s name out loud. “Braun, Reiner.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipped not one but two immediate beats and she could feel it hitting hard against her chest. “Come again?”

“Reiner Braun, Dr. Ackerman. No middle name.”

There are a lot of people with the same name. “Birthdate?” It’s just not possible.

“August 1, 19xx.”

Her hands stood frozen against the door of the operation theater. From where she stood, she could see the motionless body hooked on multiple wires connecting to a life support system on top of her operation table from between the clear glass screens.

“Doctor?”

She looked back at the other man but not before blinking back the shock-induced tears gathered inside her eyelids. “Please get Dr. Dietrich here. Now. It would be against my protocol to operate on a patient with past or existing personal attachments without a senior physician’s supervision.”

“You know the patient?”

“Yes…He was...” Her words trailed unfinished, which only roused the other person’s curiosity although it was none of his business. “Just go. NOW.”

“Sorry, sorry!” The man quickly disappeared behind the main door in a flash leaving her behind with a much needed space and air to breathe.

Oh my God, Reiner. What happened to you?

She rushed towards the faucet and hurriedly splashed her face with the cold water just so she could hide the stubborn tears already running down her cheeks.

Out of all the times, why now? Why here? Why do their paths cross again after six years - with him; his life barely hanging on a thread right now on her very own operating table?

She can’t fuck this up. Never had she ever did before, but never had she ever performed a procedure on someone she personally knew. There are just too many reasons why and too little time for her to be caught in another mulling.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

do you have any fics of john flirting with sherlock over text? maybe sherlock being utterly clueless? thank you & and much luv ❤️

Hi Nonny!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhh AGES ago, I did an Epistolary / Texting / Letters fic rec list, back before I had A System™, so it’s a bit messy but it is there :) I don’t have a lot of new ones to add to it, BUT I decided I would pull all the Texting fics from that list since I now have neater organization with tags and Chapters, and then just add my NEW fics onto that one, how about that? Would that be okay? It wouldn’t be specifically just flirting, but I think that the list is long overdue anyway!! Hope you like something on this one, and I’ll TRY to tag the flirting fics WITH flirting so that you can pick them out :) 

And as always, add your own fics, Lovelies!! <3

TEXTING AND SEXTING (JULY 2020)

See also:

Epistolary / Texting / Letters (My List, 2017)

First Meeting Via Internet / Phone / Letters (Mine)

Phone Sex & Texting (Alexx’s List)

Wrong Number Texting (Alexx’s List)

They Met Online or Texting (Alexx’s List)

Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, One-Sided Texting, Pining Sherlock) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Yorkshire Gold by Tammany Tiger (K, 1,467 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Holmes Brothers, Open Ending, Grief, Implied Bondlock) – Mycroft may not mourn Sherlock's death-but even if he knows his brother lives, he's not without his own grief. It ain't easy being The British Government. But at least he's got good help. Set between the Fall and the Return.

Text Me When It's Over by immaculately-flawed  (K+, 1,937 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them... Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1 (T, 2,679 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, H/C) – Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when "John went out for milk" was followed by a terse "two hours ago," Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Confessions, Physics, Metaphors, Texting, Pining, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Praise Kink) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Come home. by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) (E, 3,763 w., 1 Ch. || Texting / Sexting, Lonely Sherlock, Nude Photos, Pining, Fluff & Smut) – When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, First Person Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Sexting/Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John's lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to receive pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w., 5 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

A Building of Bridges by Unique (K, 12,325 w., 3 Ch. || Drama, Alternate First Meeting, John’s PTSD / Flashbacks, Mute John, Dialogue-Heavy, Caring Sherlock, Friendship) – No one would ever send Sherlock in to diffuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that's exactly what happened. "Congratulations, Lestrade," he called out sarcastically. "You're traumatizing a war veteran."

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Texting, Humour, Post-TRF, Awkward Romance, Idiots in Love) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,689 w., 8 Ch. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Beach Holidays, Confused Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

[herohotline]

Wet Clay (P.1)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

A/N: alright let's try this again. take 2 everybody

Summary: You’ve been officially hired as U.A’s first school counselor. You’re assigned to help the hero course- learning more about their students and teachers along the way. And if you manage to catch a crush on one of said teachers... You just hope he doesn’t distract you from doing your job.

Word Count: 3,300+

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

If there was one thing you knew about U.A, it was that the school seemed like a never-ending magnet for trouble. They’ve already been on the news twice this year due to villain attacks, and it made you wonder: hey, who’s taking care of the aftermath? 

You’ve been working as a freelance therapist for over ten years, and you reached into several things. Family sessions, PTSD recovery, addiction therapy, the works. So with high hopes, you came to U.A one day with a proposal for the principal. Getting a meeting with him wasn’t easy, so you intended to use the time you got with him wisely. 

Your meeting was scheduled at a random time of day- the middle of the school day, really, so when you made your way to Nezu’s office, you saw several students. They seemed like busy little bees, rushing over to the cafeteria with smiles- it must be lunch hour. The whole place was insanely big, and you wouldn’t have been able to navigate it on your own- so good thing you weren’t. 

Your tour guide sure was loud, though.

“It’s great that Nezu let someone in, but he wouldn’t tell us what it’s for!” The hero you recognized as Present Mic had been chatting animatedly the whole time, and you tried your best to keep up with his energy. 

“That’s strange,” you say back to him, adjusting the grip on your briefcase. They checked it at the front gate- happy to see it was only a few business papers. “I don’t think what I’m talking to Nezu about is very secretive.”

Present Mic waves his hand in the air, making a ‘ppsh’ noise with his teeth. “Nezu likes to mess around with us teachers a lot. I’m not surprised! Oh, and here we are!” He spins rather suddenly to face you, presenting the large office doors to you. 

You look at it curiously. “...Isn’t Nezu supposed to be a small animal?” How could he fit through the door…?

Mic laughs as if you had made some sort of joke. He opens the door for you, patting your back as you walk inside. “I’ll be here to escort you out when you’re done, good luck!” He whispers- well, his own way of whispering, which is still very loud, before thrusting you in the office and closing the door behind you. 

You blink once to try and realize what just happened.

“Ah, ___!” Nezu greets you as you stand still in the rather large office, his little body looking comical behind his desk. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you!” Oh boy, here we go. You don’t really appreciate Mic thrusting you into this, literally, but you smooth out your clothes and walk toward the principal’s desk.

“I feel the same way, Nezu,” you smile at him as you shake his little paw across the desk. “I’m glad you’re willing to listen to what I have to say.” He gestures to the seat beside you and you gladly take it, making yourself comfortable.

“Of course. It’s been chaotic but I’m always willing to hear ideas for the school. You mentioned therapy?” The business has begun- but oddly enough, the animal pulls out a tea set and begins to brew. 

“Simply put, yes. With all the events that have been happening at your school lately, I believe it’s due time for a therapist to be hired. You’re training heroes, and while it’s important that they’re physically ready for the world of heroics, I believe they should be mentally ready as well.” You take a cup from him, muttering a ‘thank you’ as you continue to give him your proposal. “Just this year, you had a kidnapping. I know you took care of it, but those sorts of things have a large impact on kids- they might be teenagers, but they aren’t fully developed. Then there’s just the thought of studying and working to be a hero- it’s stressful, and I believe every child should have a good outlet for when it gets to be too much.” 

Taking a sip of the tea, you hum under your breath. It’s a wonderful citrus flavor.

Nezu smiles. “I looked into you- I hope you aren’t offended, it’s merely what we must do for letting strangers into the campus. You’re a therapist, correct?”

You nod. “I’m not offended, I figured as much. And yes, I am. I’ve been in the field for over 10 years, so I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about when it comes to mental health.” 

“Of course! I don’t doubt you!” Nezu laughs- a squeaky little noise. “You’re right, the students deserve a good person to talk to about their struggles. The question is… are you sure you can be that person?”

So he had caught onto you. Yes, more than anything, you wanted to be the one to help these kids. It’s a bit ballsy to walk into an office and suggest they hire you, unprompted, but you believe it’s the right move to make. Nothing will get done if you don’t put the first foot in, after all.

“Yes,” you tell him, as determined as you can. “I would like to be the test driver in this. With how many students U.A holds, one therapist for so many kids is nearly impossible. I’d die of stress before they do,” you pull your briefcase up to your lap and open it, handing him a few papers. “These are the things I’ve planned if you were willing to go through with hiring me. I’d like to focus on the hero course first, a few sessions with each kid throughout a few months. I want to learn about these children, and from what I learn, I can fully deduce what sort of changes need to happen in U.A. Like if my work is even needed here, or what type of therapy should be offered or special programs.” 

Nezu flicks through your papers with an impressed smile. “You’ve thought a lot about this,” he says, “you seem to care very deeply.” 

“I’m passionate about helping others how I can,” you tell him honestly. “And frankly, if you don’t mind my honesty, U.A is long overdue for a school counselor. Every child deserves to have someone to confide in, plain and simple, Nezu.”

At your statement, he laughs. It’s not because he thinks you’re joking, but he knows you’re right. “I love your attitude!” He says. “And you’ve convinced me. We’ll start our hiring process right away, and you can show me more of your plans. I’m happy you came to me today.”

“Oh, what?” Your eyebrows stand up in shock. “Really? Wh… really?”

“Yes!” Nezu smiles. “I had already decided on hiring you before you came. But meeting you was a pleasure and convinced me more.” He hands out his small paw again and you slowly shake it.

“Welcome to U.A, ___.”

---

Getting home, you looked back at the meeting and for a second you think you were tricked. But you’re soon emailed several background check forms and sessions for drug testing- the works of getting hired at a very cautious school. So you deduce that it’s not a trick- but it’s very strange. 

You’re grateful though, and you accomplish what you can right away such as the background check, quirk information and license, and sending in your history with therapy. Nezu told you that if you were quick, you could have your first day in just a week. It shocks you- a week? It’s so soon!

Maybe, you think, they’ve already been thinking about hiring a counselor for a while. It was long overdue, and now they’re in a rush to get you in and working. You suppose that with everything that’s been going on for the school, that’s fair. 

You hope you can do this- the last thing you want is to let this opportunity slip through the cracks and let everyone down. 

---

After a full week of filling out paperwork, various meetings, and a lot of movement speeches that you’ve given yourself to get through it, your first day at U.A comes, bright and early on a Monday morning. And, interestingly enough, your first big task of the day is getting dressed. 

The students have uniforms, but the teachers all wear their hero costumes, and you’re not a hero. So what on earth do you wear? You glare at your closet for a long time before finally slipping on a simple button-up shirt tucked into some slacks. It’s the most professional-casual you can get, right?

Taking the train to U.A was a bit busy, but you were buzzing with first-day energy that you couldn’t even mind the pushing and shoving of people coming on and off the train. You’re sure that the longer you have to take the train, the more it will bother you, but today it seems like nothing can break through your hopeful exterior. 

God, you hope this works. You hope the kids like you. 

It feels funny to walk into U.A with no guards hounding you- but thanks to your I.D that you got just yesterday, you walk in without any problems. It makes you grin. Your first stop for the day is to find Eraserhead- you’re meeting with his class first and taking over homeroom for today. Tomorrow, you’ll meet with the other hero course. 

When you walk into the teacher's lounge, nerves are tingling your senses. It feels like it really is the first day of school, but instead of a student, now you’re a teacher, sort of. The room looks empty, so you assume the teachers have all gone to their classes for the day. You wonder where Eraserhead is…? 

It’s as you walk around the desks in a curious manner that a yellow bag on the floor catches your eye. Quite frankly, you do a double-take on it-- is someone sleeping in there?

“Hello?” You walk up to the bag. “Is that you, Eraserhead?” 

You remember Nezu joking about something like this, but you didn’t take him seriously. As the sleeping bag rolls around, your eyes widen in surprise as you see that yes- this is Pro-Hero Eraserhead sleeping on the floor. 

His tired, dry eyes look up at you. “You’re the therapist?” He asked, his voice deep and scratchy. 

“...Yes. ____.” It’s all you can manage to say as you watch him slowly crawl out of his bag, picking it up and standing on his feet. All of a sudden, he’s looming over you with his height and it almost catches you off guard. “Thank you for working with me,” you shake yourself out of your thoughts and present your hand to him. 

As he shakes it back, you notice that his hand basically engulfs yours. Woof. 

“I’m glad you’ll be working with the students,” he says, and his honesty throws you for a loop as he begins to walk off, you following him from behind. “Do you mind telling me what you have in store for the day?”

“Right!” You try to walk a little faster so you can walk side-by-side with the man, his legs quite longer than yours. “I figured I'd like to introduce myself, let the kids get to know me. It’s hard to suddenly have a new face around, as well as being expected to talk about your problems with a stranger. So I just need to not be a stranger anymore.” You look up to Eraserhead and he silently nods. You figure that’s his way of telling you ‘good idea’? 

“We’re here.” He stops in front of, again, another rather large door. They all seem to look like this. “Get ready.”

As the door opens, you’re immediately met with the sound of teenagers laughing and yelling. Eraserhead heads in first, thankfully, and you peek your head in to get a look of the students. You’ve seen a lot of them through the news, so some faces are familiar, while others aren’t. 

“Class,” Eraserhead’s authoritative voice cuts through all the noise. The students are quick to sit in their seats, heads up and attentive for their teacher. He sighs, his shoulders sagging in a tired manner. “Today, ____ will be taking over the class,” you take that as your cue to enter the room, standing next to Eraserhead silently. “I’ll still be here, so don’t disrespect them. Listen to them, take what they have to say seriously.”

That seems to be the end of his little speech as he shuffles away in that same sleeping bag you found him in. You step up to the podium, and your nerves are back as you look at the sea of students. Oh boy. 

“Hello, everyone,” you smile. “As Eraserhead mentioned, my name is ___. There’s no need for formalities with me, you can just call me by name. My job here at U.A is to be your school counselor.” You watch as several of their faces change and you laugh a little. “I know, it’s strange. I’m here today to ask you a few questions. My first question being, how many of you are comfortable talking with a stranger?” 

None of their hands raise beside a rather sparkly boy with blonde hair. 

“I appreciate your honesty!” You gesture for him to put his hand down and he does so. “Most of you aren’t going to come to me right away with struggles you may have, and I understand that. My job today is to have you all get to know me. We’ll be doing a few activities, and by the end of home-room, you’ll go back to your regular classes. Are there any questions?” 

A hand shoots up right away, and you nod your head to the girl it’s attached to. She looks very attentive and scholarly- you have a feeling she might be a class president or something like that. “Why has the school decided to hire a counselor?” 

“That’s a good question. What’s your name?” You ask. 

“Yaoyorozu Momo.”

“Thank you for asking, Yaoyorozu. Truthfully, with all the events that’s been going on in your district, the school believes we should be more attentive to our students' mental wellbeing.” You feel like you’ve gone over this pitch thousands of times… “It’s important that you all have an outlet when you’re stressed or upset.” 

Yaoyorozu seems satisfied with your answer as she nods, her hand going back in her lap. Another hand rises after that- not as confident as Yaoyorozu, but still there. 

“Yes?”

“I was wondering- my, uh, name is Midoriya Izuku! I was wondering what we’d talk about in your office?” The boy has wonderful green hair that curls at the ends, freckles on his cheeks that make him look innocent and cute. He’s somewhat nervous, which intrigues you, but you move on to his question. 

“Yes, in my office…”

The rest of the period goes like this. You eventually get a question out of almost every student, and they seem to be warming up to you already. You’ve learned most of their names- but you’ll probably need a few days until you remember them all. After the questions, you do a few games together that you thought up- things that typically would be done in middle school. You split up the classroom as you have them learn more about each other- things like ‘go to the left side if you’d rather lose your taste, go to the right if you’d lose your smell’. They were simple activities that the students seemed to mostly enjoy, and you participated in them as well. 

At one moment, you asked a very specific question on purpose: how do you feel about your quirk? If you like it, you would go to the right side of the room. If you dislike it, you’d go to the left. If you weren’t sure how you felt, you’d sit in the middle. In the end, only you and boy with white and red hair stand in the middle as the rest of the class sits on the right. 

“What is your quirk?” He asks you and you smile down at him. Everyone turns their attention toward you, clearly interested. 

“My quirk is called Sensory. If I use it right, I can heighten my own or someone else’s senses such as their hearing or sight. But if I use it wrong, the person goes into sensory overload.” You explain it as simple as you can, and a pink hand raises in the air. You can’t quite remember her name… 

“Why don’t you like your quirk?” 

“Well, I don’t dislike it,” you quickly reassure the class, “but I have my reasons, as I’m sure Todoroki has his own as well?” You look down at him and he nods silently. “Anyway, I asked this question so that you all would get to know who I am a little better. Quirks are a great way to express yourself, but it’s important to remember that it isn’t the only way. It’s okay to not feel completely at home with your Quirk, but it’s important to understand it and accept it as a part of you.” 

After the activity ends, the period is over and it’s time for you to go down to your office. Eraserhead offers to walk you there since you’re still new to the building and you gratefully take it. The two of you leave the classroom with a stern word from the teacher for his students to wait patiently for Present Mic to arrive ‘or else’. You have a feeling that there's no real threat behind his words, but it seems to work. 

“So,” you fill the silence in the hallway, “do you think it went well, Eraserhead? You know them best.” You look up at him and the hero reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. He’s not quite looking at you, but you know he’s paying attention. 

“You don’t have to call us by our hero names,” he huffs and his hands go back into his pockets. 

“Oh! Well… To be honest, the forms Nezu gave me never mentioned any of the teacher’s names, so I don’t actually know…” 

“Typical of him,” the man rolls his eyes, his lips tugging upward just a bit at the ends. “You can call me Aizawa,” all of a sudden you both come to a stop and you realize that you’re outside of your office on the first floor. “Mic is Yamada and Midnight is Kayama… I’m sure you know who Yagi is.” You nod. “You’ll learn the rest of their names along the way. The 1-B teacher is Kan, by the way.”

“Oh, good! Thank you, Aizawa,” you smile up at him. “And thank you for walking me back.”

“You’ll get used to it in a bit,” he sounds sure of himself, making you believe him. “And��� you did fine with the kids. I can think of a few who might come over by the end of the week.”

His reassurance is honestly very touching, as you weren’t really sure of yourself. 

“I hope I have at least a week, my office is kind of baren right now,” you laugh at yourself a little. “And thank you- it’s good to hear. I really hope this goes well, you know? I think I can really help them- I want to help them.”

Aizawa just stares down at you but you’re honestly getting used to his silence. You can already tell that he’s a man of few words, so you’re grateful that he’s talked to you as much as he has. You laugh again- you’re not sure why- before opening your door and waving goodbye to him. He leaves after that, and now it’s just you alone in your office.

You sigh as you look around the room. It’s got the essentials- two chairs, a couch, and a table in the middle. Then there’s a desk in the corner of the room, but other than that, it’s empty. You’ll definitely have to fill up the area to make it seem more welcoming- maybe you can bring some things over from your apartment. 

All you know is that you’re determined. By the end of the week, you’re going to make this place feel like home.

[let-me-write]

The Truth Untold

Find chapters 1 2 here

Chapter 3: The Consequence of What-ifs

Kit Herondale stood in front of the towering old cathedral, wondering if his presence here was warranted. He had been deliberating under this street lamp for what felt like hours.

Tessa had opened a portal from Devon for him. He sighed now, opening the gates to the gothic building...it was time to go in. They would be waiting for him.

The New York Institute never failed to awe him, despite his several visits. It was magnificent in its height, overwhelming even in the dusk light. It donned an air of mystery that pulled you in, while its eerie facade terrified you from any thought of approaching it.

Kit couldn't help but compare it with the only other institutes he was familiar with: The Los Angeles and London Institutes. All three churches, except, the latter two somehow blended with their surroundings. This one though stood out like a sore thumb in the busy Manhattan neighbourhood.

In one of his past visits, he had thought that this would be the obvious abode of a sinister supervillain in a low-budget thriller. He had been almost right... He had learnt later from Simon that the mundane facade of the institute, had indeed been the backdrop for a few indie horror movies.

He opened the door to the Institute and was greeted with the familiar voices of Jace and Clary.

" Jace, calm down. It's not a big deal. This is not Kit's first time. Stop it or I'm calling Simon to record this...you wouldn't like one of those edits again would you? "

"I'm obliged to acquaint him with the traditions of our legendary family, Clary. Not even you could stop me..."

Kit exhaled heavily.

He wasn't ready to take in his cousin's shenanigans now. He moved further ahead, before stopping near the landing where the heads of the institute were busy arguing, oblivious to Kit's presence. He cleared his throat and said, " Hello Clary, need some help? "

Clary turned around surprised, " Kit !! You're here. I'm so glad to see you ", she patted his arm excitedly. She continued, " Well, yes, I need your help" and gestured at the head of her fiancé.

Jace was wearing a ridiculous headgear, with a monstrous-looking duck adorning it. Of course, he was...

Jace had taken it upon himself to sensitise Kit to the sacred traditions of the Herondales since he had learnt that Kit - to his absolute horror- loved ducks. He is yet to cease in his campaign to dissuade Kit from the "demonic birds".

Kit wished he had a normal cousin; except not really...then who else would be capable of distracting him-so spectacularly-from his worries. He felt a flush of warmth towards Jace.

Jace was leaning forward to hug him now. Kit reciprocated with a quick hug.

Jace then looked at him up and down while commenting, " Christopher, I see you have buffed up since I saw you last. I'm glad my mentoring has worked "

Kit shrugged nonchalantly.

He took that as an affirmation and grinned all self-satisfied. " I've made all the necessary arrangements for your stay here. You will have a splendid time, well, apart from the mission " he assured.

Kit just stared.

He raised his eyebrows, noting Kit's quiet demeanour and shared a look with Clary. He said " We had planned to have a take-out dinner. Why don't you join us? "

Kit smiled at him with a nod, before reaching up to pull the duck hat from Jace's head and donning it on his own. He said with a cheeky grin, " Thank you, Jace, for such a thoughtful gift. You have satisfied my adoration for duck collectables of all forms. Get me a dragon duck next time "

Jace groaned aloud, while Clary burst out laughing.

...........................................................................

The dinner had been a quiet affair, after which Kit had been introduced to his room at the Institute. He sat there on his new bed, pondering over his observations of the night.

He had noticed that the residents of the Institute were quite exhausted, in spite of their enthusiasm at his arrival. It was evident from Clary's dark circles and Jace's wild hair. There was a tense nature to their stances, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

It was to be expected since they were helping Alec's Clave-in-exile, besides dealing with the new development in the streets of New York.

Downworlders were getting killed in the past few months, in isolated incidents. The only clue was that the modus operandi matched the murder of a downworlder couple three years ago.

The Conclave of New York had strengthened and increased the frequencies of their patrols to prevent further losses. Special patrols under the Downworlder-Shadowhunter alliance had been constituted for the purpose. In fact, Clary and Jace had gone for the same tonight.

They had declined Kit's offer to join, citing his unfamiliarity with the city. Besides, he could start his patrols for the mission once the others arrived, they said.

The others...the Centurions, would arrive early tomorrow.

The thought made Kit almost queasy.

He would be meeting Ty after a long time. He didn't know how they would get past the awkwardness between them.

He wondered if Ty would even recognize him.

Kit fiddled with the paper in his pocket. He took it out and smoothed the worn-out edges.

Ty had sent the message a week ago. He had been curious and slightly concerned when he had realized it was Ty's.

He had read it numerous times since then...

He reread now while tracing each word with his finger:

Dear Christopher,

I have been assigned my first mission in New York, to investigate mysterious energy emanating from the Shadow Market there. I believe there's a link between Barnabas Hale and this phenomenon.

I trust you will understand me when I tell you, I couldn't help but think of you. I remember your familiarity and ease in dealing with the denizens of the Shadow Market.

Hence, as the leader, I am requesting you to accompany us on this mission. Your inputs would be highly appreciated and you would be a valuable addition to the team.

Besides, it is not an exclusive mission for the Centurions. Students of the Shadowhunter Academy will also be a part of it...Dru will be there.

I'm not sure if you would read this or would even consider coming but I hope you do.

If you do, please come to the New York Institute next week.

Regards,

Tiberius Blackthorn

It was the most formal, any communication between them had ever been.

He had hated it; hated that Ty was distant now and that he was needed only for a mission by the other boy.

It had made him feel miserable.

But, he couldn't help the tiny hope that arose in his heart, at a chance to meet Ty again and the thought of Ty needing him for something, even as trivial as his familiarity with the Shadow Market.

He sighed, disappointed with himself...his innate desire to be a part of Ty's life, to mean something to him...it had never disappeared.

After he had received the message, he hadn't been sure if it was real or just a manifestation of his wishful thinking.

He had then stayed cooped up in his room, holding onto the message, keeping a watch so that it didn't disappear.

Logically, he knew he shouldn't go. He had a life at Devon with his loving family, untouched by any harm courtesy of his legacy.

Unfortunately, his mind had refused to budge from the What-ifs...

What if this was his last chance to meet Ty in the flesh? What if they ended up never talking to each other till they died? or worse, What if he didn't get to see Ty ever again?

Those had terrified him.

Then, he had been haunted by a particular memory, when he had believed he was dying, after the encounter with the Riders of Mannan. He had tried to ask Emma then - with what he had believed to be his last breath - to " Tell Ty that I am sorry "

Dread had filled his mind: What if he fails to ask Ty for his forgiveness, for not being a good friend, for letting him endanger himself, just because Kit didn't want to be left out and for making him cry with his harsh words?

It was long overdue and Ty deserved to know, except Kit was clueless on how to act on that.

He had decided then that his participation in the mission could be the first step towards it, at least, in opening up a dialogue between them.

It wouldn't be an easy task, it would hurt him to be so close to Ty.

But Kit was willing to try, to act, which he had failed to do in the past years.

It was hard at first, to convince Jem and Tessa. They were concerned at his sudden interest in a mission and feared for his safety.

To them, Kit's safety was the priority and they worried about him attracting dangerous attention if he left Devon, alone.

Kit had assured them that it would be a short mission and besides " Where else would I get to show off my Shadowhunter training? I think it will be a good opportunity, Jem " he said.

They agreed, but only after confirming that Jace and Clary were in the Institute and would take care of him, for they were one of the few who safeguarded Kit's dangerous secret.

He had packed lightly and waited for Tessa to open the portal for his departure.

The previous day, Tessa had done her best to place a shield on his powers. His hereditary faerie powers were transient, having appeared only intermittently since that day at Idris.

He had trained with Tessa to wield it but all to no avail, since he couldn't even voluntarily manifest it in the first place. Tessa, however, had told him she could sense the power in him, dormant and waiting for an outlet.

Even though the dark origins of the power let Tessa and Magnus feel it, they were yet to decipher its nature and extent. She was able to only place a shield, a minor deterrent on its volatility.

During the time of departure, Mina had hugged him close and murmured " I will miss you Gē-Ge", with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. He had rubbed her head lovingly while assuring her that he would be back soon and that he would say 'Hi ' to Max and Rafe for her. Tessa had asked him to be good and return safely. Jem had just smiled and hugged him before sending him off through the portal.

At present, lying wide awake in an unfamiliar room, with its blank wooden walls and the Manhattan skyline visible from his window, Kit missed his family.

He was anxious to meet Ty and even Dru tomorrow. At the same time, he wished that the time would pass by soon and that the dawn would arrive...he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes and played one of Jem's compositions on his iPod. It calmed his nerves and brought in a sense of familiarity.

Kit drifted towards what would most likely be a restless sleep, with the words 'I couldn't help but think of you ' lingering in his mind. He looked forward to a day that was bound to be, vastly different from the ones of the last three years of his life.

...........................................................................

Please reblog if you like it. Your comments are welcome too!!

[guylty]

It’s a dull day here in Dublin, but it has just been brightened up considerably.

Picture quality could be better, but you can see what I just received in the mail. Our fan artist extraordinaire, Ani, has gifted me this gorgeous brooch that she made. Love it so much – from the choice of image (season 1 Guy) to the black rose. The dangling sword is the icing on the cake. Ani had made a few more of these gorgeous pieces but they are already sold out of her Etsy store. Who knows, maybe she might make more if there is demand… In any case, a huge big thank you to Ani for this wonderful surprise.

The Covid developments over here are worrisome. So much so that I spent the morning doing some panic buying. (The German word for it is much more descriptive and appropriate: Hamsterkäufe, which translates to “shopping groceries like a hoarding hamster” 🐹 😂.) I have stocked up on staples such as pasta, flour, sugar, rice and tea. I took the opportunity to buy some German specialities because Lidl has the “Alpenfest” on offer at the moment. So Nuremberg saussies and spaetzle noodles also found their way in my shopping trolley. I even bought a whole salami sausage and lots of nuts, porridge oats and seeds for my bread-making. All this, because I fear that Dublin may be heading for another lockdown. The 14-day incidence of Covid-19 infection in Dublin has risen significantly in recent days to 70.8 cases per 100,000 people. Last week the rate was 53.2. The R number for Dublin is now 1.4 whereas it is 1.0 in the rest of Ireland. Of course, Ireland is *the* large city in Ireland – with a population of 1.2m. That is 44% of the total population of Ireland! Thus, half of the recorded cases have been in Dublin so far (see above right). The National Public Health Emergency Team apparently is meeting today to consider whether restrictions are needed to stop the virus from resurging any further in Dublin. Based on what I saw in the supermarket where several shoppers did NOT wear a mask (even though the rule is that shoppers need to wear masks every time they enter a shop or use public transport), I think another lockdown is inevitable – and needed. But hey, Sonja is now prepared 😁. And I won’t be bored, either.

A couple of meters of my whimsical RA fabrics have arrived today, too. So I am going to go back to sewing more face masks with the new fabric. It’s great timing because I spent yesterday with an overdue tidying up session in my craft room/office. I noticed that I now have 25 different mini book brooches on offer in my Etsy shop, and my old system of storing them was not working for me anymore. Every time I needed to ship something to a buyer, I ended up having to pick through the plate rack to check the mini books one by one. I needed something with lots of small compartments where I could keep the books separate.

In the end I customised a cheap paper-maché advent calendar: I gave it a coat of paint and then attached the label pulls to the drawers. It sits now on my favourite shelf.

I also finally received a shipment of a piece of material I need for a RAPS that is currently in planning. The recipient has been waiting for it for a loooong time. I better get cracking on that.

Hope you are all well where you are – and people are complying with the rules better than they are here.

All Set Up For Whatever Comes It's a dull day here in Dublin, but it has just been brightened up considerably. Picture quality could be better, but you can see what I just received in the mail.

[eliminatedtheimpossible]

The Case of the Disappearing Dinner Guests

I found myself at the scene of what John informs me, detective novelist refer to as a locked room mystery. The crime occurred at a one-bedroom flat in Westminster. Though detective inspector Lestrade had briefly detailed the crime to me via text message on the cab ride over to the scene, there is a great difference between having the crime described and seeing it laid before you. I’m honestly disappointed the readers will only be getting a retelling of the crime as words won’t do the incident justice. It is the first truly remarkable case I’ve had in months and it’s been long overdue. 

The layout of the flat goes as follows: there was an open floor plan for the main room, kitchen, and dining area. Two large windows covered the west-facing wall while a sofa, full-length mirror, and squared kitchen were tucked together on the other side of the room. From the windows, the offices of the adjacent building could clearly be seen. There were no curtains or blinds on these windows. For all intents and purposes, the office workers in the other building should be able to see right into the flat. 

The body had been found in the main room by the owner of the building in a mangled mess of blood and viscera. Descriptions from the owner of the building suggest the victim was the occupant of the flat. However, the victim’s name didn’t appear anywhere on police record. It was likely a fake name. Forensic evidence suggested the victim had been dead for three days. In these three days, none of the office workers in the adjacent building recalled seeing anything a miss. Quite the contrary, someone reported seeing a woman in the flat the morning after the crime. 

A member of the sales department recalled getting distracted during work hours by a ‘beautiful, young woman’ who he assumed lived in the flat. He confessed to watching her sit at her breakfast bar of a morning, sipping her tea and circling things in the paper. On multiple occasions, he recalled catching the woman’s eye. To his recounting, the woman would offer him a smile or a brief wave. The salesman declared it to be an act of flirtation but it could have just as easily been an attempt to be polite. People are fallible and often see what they want to see in a situation, not what has actually occurred. He reported seeing the woman the morning after the crime. 

I asked John what he thought of the whole thing. He confirmed that most women would deem the man’s behaviour as ‘creepy’ and would have invested in some blinds, but he supposed he couldn’t speak for everyone. Perhaps she had been flirting, maybe she had been flattered. Who was to say? It was odd, that she hadn’t invested in curtains or blinds. Then again, who was she? There was only one bedroom so it was unlikely she was the man’s flatmate. It was always possible she was the flat owners girlfriend but how had she missed the dead body which should have been in the centre of the room? Then there was the contradictory recount from the man working as night security at the office building. 

The man from security recounted the night the victim was killed in startling clarity. Clarity can neither prove nor disprove innocence. More often than not, lies hold more details than the truth. When locking up the office space the man glance to the window of the would-be-victim. As he recounts it, the window had been obscured by a thick curtain. However, the face of a man aged between thirty-five and forty glanced out. The security guard described the man as ‘gaunt’. The two had caught eyes for a moment before the curtain was drawn again. This was around 1 a.m. Upon finishing his shift, while exiting the building the security guard recalled looking up to the same window, finding his view now unobscured and two figures silhouetted. 

In the condition I found the crime scene, the dining room table had been set. Three plates of half-eaten food sat stinking on the table accompanied by flies in every stage of their life cycle including a startling amount of the dead and dying. The body at the scene of the crime matched neither the description of the attractive young woman or the thin older man. The victim was around fifty. He was large in stature and had the broad body of a man who had spent his life doing physically demanding work.  Perhaps he worked in construction. I found traces of dried cement on the underside of his boots. He had multiple stab wounds to both the chest and abdomen. The wounds suggested the victim’s assailant was shorter than he was, as the knife wounds had been in an upward motion. It was possible the gaunt man and young woman were the killers but something about the crime scene appeared off. 

The toxicology reports suggested the man had ingested a fatal dose of arsenic less than half an hour before his death. Further investigation revealed the food left on the table also had traces of arsenic. If the man hadn’t bled to death, he would likely have died due to the poisoning. Then why, one had to ask, had he been stabbed? Who goes to the trouble of hiding poison in food only to stab someone moments after? Also, why did each plate of food contain arsenic? Were there two more bodies to be found and if not, had the scene been set after the death of the body to confuse police? It truly was a beautiful crime scene. 

The bloodstains on the carpet were three days old, suggesting the victim had died in the room, slowly bleeding out on the carpet but how did no one hear him? While I had been pacing the room, taking in the conflicting data and trying to piece together what had happened John was in the far corner of the room scuffing his feet against the carpet. He turned to look at me and pointed down. 

“Maybe there’s something under here. It looks like someone’s tried to rip it up.” Of course. Readers, this is why I bring John with me on cases. He is absolutely brilliant at cutting through the clutter of a crime scene and finding the one thread which will pull all my theories together. 

His theory was completely wrong, as they often are but it did point me in the right direction. Let us suppose, dear reader that all the contradictory evidence is in fact true. The flat belonged to the murdered man and yet most mornings it was briefly occupied by a young woman and on the night of the flat owner’s murder, there had been a gaunt man in the apartment. That night there had been a dinner party where at least one of the patrons had been poisoned but before the poison had time to take effect the man had been stabbed several times, before being left to bleed to death. Come the next morning, the body, the curtains and so it would seem, the carpet disappeared and left in their place was an unbothered young woman sipping tea at a breakfast bar and waving at the man from the sales department. The only supposition which needs to be disregarded is that there were three people in the apartment that night. Disregard that and the whole thing slides into place. 

I felt a rush pulse through my body at this idea and began to pace around the edges of the room. For the idiotic members of Scotland Yard, it appeared as though I had finally entered the frenzied state of psychosis and mania they all believed lied behind the surface of my otherwise composed veneer. John knew there was more to the matter and gave me a sidelong glance as he walked beside me. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He insisted.

I don’t like my stream of thought to be muddled by conversation but as John is my partner, in all sense of the word, I supposed I should tell him something. 

“The floor plans of the flat say it’s twenty-two feet.” John hummed as though trying to follow along. 

Out of frustration, I took his hand and pulled him close to my side making him match my own steps. This action had caught Inspector Lestrade’s eye and he gave John a puzzled and concerned look. Lestrade silently asked John a question John didn’t understand. I understood Lestrade’s look clearly but ignored him. He was asking if I was using again. Typical. 

John just shot the inspector a look I couldn’t see, which seemed to momentarily placate his worries. John squeezed my hand tighter. Upon reflection, I suppose I should have asked before holding John’s hand so publicly but I needed to show him what I was thinking. I pulled John along beside me, counting the steps out loud until we reached the opposite wall. 

“Eighteen feet,” John breathed finally seeming to understand. 

“Where are the other four feet?” 

We both began tapping on different areas of the far wall, moving aside furniture as we saw fit. I looked to the full-length mirror beside the sofa and could have cursed for how stupid I had been. John and I quickly pulled the mirror down from the wall and there it was, another small room.

This room was soundproof and a bloodstained curtain was piled in the corner. The corpse had never disappeared from the flat. The scene held a startling resemblance to stage magic. The room was a mirror-box and the body was the object which appeared to disappear and re-appear at the will of the killers but it wasn’t a trick of disappearance. Instead, it was a transfiguration. Older bloodstains in the room didn’t match the blood of the victim and it was too old to belong to the young woman or the gaunt man. It was the blood of the fourth dinner guest. People have the habit of stopping after three. 

With all the pieces in place and a painful call to my brother to confirm my suspicions, the crime became overly simple. The flat owner was an American and wanted criminal, charged with war crimes in Iraq along with kidnapping and murder across the continent of Europe. Two agents had been discharged to track the criminal, the first had disappeared three months prior to the man’s murder while the second had been the young woman. Another agent had been placed on the case after the first man went missing. A simple covert operation was made complex by the emotionality of one agent. 

After months of reconnaissance, the agents realised their missing colleague was trapped somewhere in the flat. They planned to kill the criminal covertly, leave a note with their superiors, rescue their colleague, and call it a day. However, something had gone wrong and the third agent had escaped the room during the dinner party. Out of anger and desperation, the man attacked the owner of the flat, stabbing him multiple times, killing him. 

This is not part of government protocol. The agents cleaned up the scene as best they could, wrapping the man’s body in the curtain, cutting up the carpet, and removing the food from the table, hiding the evidence in the small room behind the mirror. Two of the agents fled the country that night, leaving false trails and trying to avoid suspicion while the young woman stayed behind for long enough to let their trail run cold. When the time was right, she set the scene again and disappeared herself, hoping to confuse the police with the contradicting stories, also placing poison in the other plates of food and removing the man’s teeth, making it more difficult for him to be identified by dental records.  

After the case was closed, John and I took a cab back to 221B. It was our first case since the new developments in our relationship. Part of me feared things would be different but everything unfolded as usual, even the excess touching wasn’t strictly unusual. 

Upon arriving home I removed my coat and scarf, noting a small fleck of blood on my shoe. John and I still smelled of death. It isn’t uncommon for the two of us to come home smelling like decay. One of us tends to loiter on the landing while the other takes the first shower but today, reflecting on the new possibilities opened by the two of us being a couple I asked John if he wanted to join me. 

At first, John looked startled and I worried I’d done something wrong but after a beat, he agreed to join. We’re both still unsure of how to navigate our newfound relationship. We didn’t have sex. That is a topic neither of us is yet to broach. I’m not ‘shy’ about sex as a topic, but sex with John is different. John is also hesitant to broach the subject as I suspect his limited interest in men has only ever been theoretical. 

So, we showered together. John washed his hair while I huddled in a steam-filled corner of the shower and catalogued all the data the moment had to offer. John uses more conditioner than necessary, likes to shower with his back to the water, and has a small birthmark on his hip. All in all, it was an informative night. 

S.H.   

[hippriestess]

Part 2: Cherry-picking

Cherry Red had been releasing The Fall's new music since 2011's “Ersatz GB” and we already knew that Smith had signed a further deal with them to look after what portion of the group's catalogue he owned. They had already made a start with the handsome seven disc “Singles 1978 - 2016” box set they had released late in 2017 (alongside a cut-down three disc “A Sides” collection). The set had originally been scheduled for release in 2016 but the production deadline for the all-important Christmas market was missed and the set was held back until after “New Facts Emerge” - from which no singles were taken - had been released. Following Smith's passing, the seven-disc edition sold out and was unavailable for a short time before Cherry Red did the decent thing and made a few more.

A reissue of  1997's “Levitate” had been in the works for a while; Smith had signed off the tracklisting and there had been a trailer of sorts with a Record Store Day-only 7” of “Masquerade” in 2017. Given that the album had been in contractual limbo for quite some time with original vinyl copies fetching 3 figures on the open market, Cherry Red's first posthumous release felt like a public service,  doing the right thing both by Smith and by the fans. Released towards the end of May 2018, the new 2CD/3LP edition was justly well received and some kindly reviews appeared with mostly positive re-evaluations of one of their most awkward albums. Hindsight benefits the record; if it sounds like they were falling to bits, it's because they were and now that we know not just what happened next but how the whole story of The Fall continued for another 20 years, it has context. For the record (Portugal), yr present author is no more fond of the album than she was 7 or 8 years ago but “Ol' Gang” has clicked into focus and the second disc puts those great b-sides from the “Masquerade” CD singles back onto the shelves so it would have to be considered necessary.

Less impressive was “58 Golden Greats”, released at the end of 2018. A 3CD set in a clamshell box, this was, in essence, an extended version of the classic “50,000 Fall Fans Can't Be Wrong” collection from 2004, extending the tracklist to cover the remainder(er) of the group's career. It actually expands on the original in other ways, adding several songs from the era covered in the original version; the puzzling omission of “Big New Prinz” is corrected for one thing and other singles are added such as  “Oh! Brother” and “Dead Beat Descendent”. Perhaps Beggars Banquet were more co-operative this time. Whilst one could always quibble with any attempt at a Fall “best of”, yr present author was not taken with this one and my purse remained closed. 58 was an unwieldy number (why not a round 60?), the cover artwork – a spoof of a different Elvis Presley sleeve – was far from appealing and the entry-point value of “50,000...” was lost, a 3 disc set at £17 being too big a serving at too high a price for the merely curious. However, it looks as if I'm just flat-out in the wrong. As we'll continually see, Cherry Red aren't just experienced, they are also smart and do not lack savvy. I'm sat here keyboard-griping while “58 Golden Greats” is sold out. Enough said.

In 2019, Cherry Red announced the beginning of the Fall Sound Archive, the title of which gave the air of a mission to preserve The Fall's work for future generations. Inevitably, they were starting with 40th Anniversary editions of “Live At The Witch Trials” and “Dragnet”. There was early disappointment. The 3CD edition of “Live At The Witch Trials” contained the exact same music as the 2CD edition from 2004 but spread over three discs. Any thoughts that the decision at least preserved the sanctity of the original 11 song album were hampered by the 3CD edition of “Dragnet” containing, as disc 1, the exact same running order – with single and outtakes – as the 2004 CD edition. The other two discs were 2 of the little-loved “Live From The Vaults” series (of which, more later, sort of..). The archive was perhaps, not so deep.

However, the plus points were the vinyl editions, which had been hatched with obvious care. Using the rare US edition of “LATWT” with an alternate sleeve and revised running order was a clever touch and one that acknowledged that the Fall's audience would need something more than just a nice colour of vinyl before they indulged the album yet again. Similarly, “Dragnet” came with a reproduction 7” of “Rowche Rumble”, a record which originally came with the thinnest paper sleeve in the history of music. That's not to say that we didn't get coloured vinyl, oh we did - “LATWT” came of red vinyl to match the US sleeve and “Dragnet” on black and white “splatter” vinyl. These both sold well, sold quickly and sold out, now being tricky to score except on the Discogs etc market. But perhaps more to the point, they suggested that Cherry Red's experience and nouse would, at minimum, keep things interesting.

Later in 2019, the Kamera catalogue came under Cherry Red's microscope and it was another mixed set of releases. For CD buyers, a 6 disc set called “(1982)” was developed. This contained “Hex Enduction Hour”, “Room To Live” “Fall In A Hole” various single and live tracks and the “Live To Air In Melbourne” album which had previously snuck out in the late 90's when MES was broke. There was no new music to be had here at all – everything had previously been released. As such £40 was too rich a price tag for many and the edition is still easily available. The new vinyl edition of “Hex” was well particularly well presented. For the first time, the 60 minute LP was cut onto 4 sides of vinyl – a long overdue move, this did the album real justice on the format and would have to be considered an essential for those who insist on twelve-inch slabs of wax for their music. A pleasing, sturdy fold-out sleeve showed that corners were not being cut, the vinyl again matched the colour scheme of the artwork and it also came with an excellent reproduction of the sterling “Look, Know/I'm Into C.B.” 45. What spoiled it a little bit was the inclusion of a third LP with Peel Session #5 on one side and some of the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary 2CD on the other. All this really did was drive up the price – a double LP with the 7” would have been perfect and would have been less heavy on the purse *NB – this didn't stop me buying it – that's my copy in the picture...). “Room To Live” was given a vinyl reissue too, this time as a double LP with sides 3 and 4 being the live tracks from the 2005 Sanctuary edition. Again, this didn't quite feel like the right choice – an alternative idea would have been a single LP with a 7”. Given that the classic “Lie Dream Of A Casino Soul/Fantastic Life” single had been added to the popular, widely owned German pressing, why not add a repro of that instead? It would have cost less and added more value to the package.

Despite these whinges “(1982)” would have to be considered an elegant, practical solution to a latter-day problem and demonstrates why Cherry Red remain a market leader in catalogue reissues. Can you really sell compact discs of these albums yet again? How else do you present the music in this format? The answer to parcel the whole lot together and present it as a “year-in-the-life” was a smart one that was only hampered by an optimistic £40 price tag (which translated to as much as £58 in stores) and the artwork being based on “Hex” which could have given a more casual customer the notion that the set was Hex and 5 discs of “other” material. The bottom line here is that there is nothing else in the cupboard; as with the IAKO ballet and the Hey! Luciani play, fantasies about things like the unedited “Winter” and the full 20+ minute “And This Day” ever appearing are exactly that – fantasies. Were they ever preserved, they're gone and anything that did turn up, almost 40 years hence would likely be in such a state of degeneration as to be unlistenable. From now on, all that can be done is to keep this material out there and try to present it with a fresh angle. That's precisely what Cherry Red have done here.

Come 2020, come the challenge of reselling what is not just one of the most widely-distributed but also one of the worst Fall albums: “Reformation Post TLC”. Cherry Red stuck to type with a double LP pressed into blue and red coloured vinyl, again matching the colour to the sleeve. Undoubtedly a handsome package, this version was snapped up with some enthusiasm although it does seem that sales were likely harmed by coinciding with the early, uncertain, often panic-stricken days of the Covid-19 pandemic reaching the UK. The 4CD edition was daunting: the whole album and 2 CDs worth of outtakes and rough mixes, followed by the “Last Night At The Palais” CD. The “Last Night At The Palais” DVD was not included. Time has passed, time has healed and it is clear that RPTLC is a terrific EP stretched out beyond the energy of the participants. There is even a strong 40 minute single LP to be had within its contents but, hey it was what it was. With almost all of the unreleased mixes having no vocals, interest wears off before we got to the excellent live disc but, on the other paw, Cherry Red have done exactly what we want; it is highly unlikely that there is anything left from the album sessions; this is the whole lot, every scrap. Up to us now what we do with them.

****************************

Now, if you're thinking I've skipped something, you're right but the story of The Fall's posthumous discography is difficult to tell in a linear fashion. So I invite you, friends, to join me in a diversion. Cast your minds back to Record Store Day 2019.  

Cherry Red played a good hand by releasing a new vinyl edition of the superb “Imperial Wax Solvent” album. As with “Levitate”, vinyl copies were going for silly money, Universal having allegedly pressed a mere 500 for the world. It was a shame that Cherry Red therefore added only another 500 copies, this time pressed into yellow vinyl. These were almost entirely snapped up on the day and copies of this edition are routinely offered at £50-60.  “IWS” had, of course, been out of print since 2008, having been deleted less than 6 months after its release. As such the RSD edition of  “IWS” could be said to have undersold the record somewhat. Unless, of course, a properly “available” edition, maybe with that unreleased original mix of the album was to follow at some point...more on that later.

Sadly, we must also wade through the other Fall releases that were curled out for RSD 2019. That will take us into Part 3...

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Parent Trap 4/10 (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Annie and Hallie are twin sisters who never met until they end up in the same summer camp together. They decide to switch places to see how the other lives. Hallie heads to Los Angeles to meet Keanu, owner of Arch Motorcycle Company, while Annie goes to New York to meet you, rising fashion designer and their aunt. Their plan is simple: get their parents together to make the perfect family. If only it could be that easy… Previous chapters: prologue | 1 2 3: 

Author’s notes: So here we are, back with parent trap. I shall remember for future references that I can’t manage two series at once. Anyway, let’s get to it and as usual feedback is always greatly appreciated.

Wordcount: 3404

Warnings: none. Just lots of fluff

You looked away from the blank page of your sketchbook and across the cashier’s counter to Hallie. It had been a couple of days since the girl had returned home and to your surprise, she asked to come to the store with you.

It wasn’t completely unusual for her to come. There was a nice bookstore a couple of stores over and she sometimes liked to spend time reading there. The elderly couple that owned the place pampered Hallie with cookies like she was their grandkid and in turn, she helped them with computer stuff and small tasks around the shop.

What was surprising was to see Hallie browsing the racks of clothes in the store, picking up a few pieces and bringing with her to mirror to check it out, adding this and that accessory to see how she could look on the outfit. Once in a while, she would ask if there were any of them in her size and if she could have it.

That along with all the other odd things you had been noticing about your niece were starting to, well not exactly worry you, more like get you to notice and pay attention even more than usual. It was all small little things, like going off meat and making sure to stylish her hair every morning or how she would try to sneak some ham pieces to Salem to get the cat to come over or how she was always on the phone…

Of course, you didn’t expect her to stay the same forever. Hallie was a teenager, she was growing up, discovering herself and what she liked, who she wanted to be. It was just weird to witness the process and how fast it seemed to be happening. You didn’t remember going through so many changes at once. Then again, your teen years had been spent under Mary’s shadow since she demanded so much attention from your parents.

You were the quiet kid, the one that didn’t give any trouble. Maybe that was why you didn’t feel like much had changed for you. You were always the one that spent hours in your room, either reading or drawing, Mary was the one with all the friends and parties and behavior issues. Now here you were, raising her child, while Mary…

Letting out a sigh at your gloomy thoughts, your attention shifted to the board you built as inspiration for your new collection. Color pallet and textures, geometric figures and flowers and movies and songs, they all called to you whenever you were trying to create, but it almost felt like this time you couldn’t get anything down on paper and it was getting so frustrating.

“You have that look on,” Maggie said, coming from storage with a few new outfits to change the mannequins. “The I can’t draw and I want to punch something look. It’ll come to you. Just be patient.”

“I didn’t know you had a name for it,” you chuckled, setting the pencil aside. “And I can’t afford to be patient, we have bills to pay.”

Once again you sighed, reminded of the three envelops of overdue charges that you stuck in your drawer on Friday. You needed a new collection ASAP and it needed to do well otherwise the store would have to close doors and everything you and Maggie had fought for would be over.

She had been with you since the beginning, the marketing and sales guru to your artistic tendencies. Maggie was the one to suggest the store in the first place. The one who built the website for online shopping… Basically, she was the one that made all of this possible and you couldn’t even deliver your end.

“We still have some savings to hold us until next month,” Maggie assured, squeezing your shoulders. “Just go easy on yourself, enjoy your time with Hallie and it will happen.”

At the mention of your niece’s name, you turned your attention at the girl again. She was spotting one of the dresses on sale, along with the personalized denim jacket you made for her, her battered old converse and a pair of aviators from the store. She looked amazing and stylish and you stood up, picking up the camera you kept in the store.

You were hoping to sneak a picture since you knew Hallie hated them, but as soon as she saw the camera, she actually struck a pose for you. Deciding to think about it later, you snapped several pictures of the girl noticing she had a natural talent for modeling.

“Put this one on, please,” you asked, giving Hallie one of the daisy overshirts from the latest collection and she dutifully obeyed before you led her outside where the light was better.

You got lost in the process of taking pictures. It had been quite a while since you had done it. Usually, Maggie was the one to take pictures for the store social media so you forgot how this could be fun, especially with such a willing model. Hallie worked effortlessly through the suggested poses, only pausing to change outfits, always with a wide smile in her face.

“What do we have here?” the familiar smooth baritone of Jason brought you back to the present and you realized it was almost noon. “Hallie willingly letting her picture to be taken?”

You put the camera down, tilting your head to receive the kiss Jason pressed on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back as he looked over at Hallie, which made your attention turn to her as well.

Hallie loved Jason. He was like an uncle to her, but right now she was looking from him to you to the point of contact between you two with a deep frown. You didn’t know why her stare made you self-conscious, but you stepped away so Jason was no longer touching you and offered him a quick smile.

“I guess she was feeling generous,” you joked weakly and Jason at least flashed a smile back, but Hallie didn’t react at all.

“Well, I hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I could take my two favorite girls to lunch.”

His smile widened all white teeth and sweet dimples. His blue eyes warm and hopeful and you felt the familiar warmth in your chest as you nodded, glancing at Hallie once again.

“That sounds great, doesn’t it, Hal?”

“Sure,” the girl replied dryly. “I’m gonna change.”

She was gone before you could even think about saying anything else, leaving you to stand alone with Jason in awkward silence.

“Is everything ok?” he asked, with a confused frown and you just shrugged because you had no idea.

The walk to the deli was made in a strange silence because every time Jason tried to strike up a conversation, Hallie would just give him monosyllabic responses and whenever he tried to talk to you, she would just give you two this look and any conversation would simply die down.

You wished you knew what was happening, why she was being so cold with Jason, but you couldn’t just ask when he was right there. It would be rude.

“Did I do something?” Jason asked when Hallie excused herself to go to the restroom. “I mean, she’s usually hard to please, but today…”

“I don’t know,” you sighed and shrugged. “She’s just…” you trailed off, unsure what to say because how could you definite it without being weird?

“Anyway…” Jason started, thankfully moving on from the subject. “I ran into Becky yesterday.” You just arched your eyebrow at him in expectation, because whenever he ran into his ex trouble seemed to follow. “She’s helping to organize this fashion show in Los Angeles and one of their designers dropped off last minute so I kinda showed some of your stuff and she was interested.”

You froze, bagel halfway to your mouth. Did you just hear Jason right? He had asked his ex-girlfriend, a woman you couldn’t stand, for a spot on her fashion show on your behalf.

“I know what you’re thinking…” Jason started and you snorted.

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously, I know you have your issues with Becky, but this a real chance for you and the store.” You hated that he was right.

“When is it gonna be?”

“In two weeks,” he said with a grimace. “And it has to be all-new pieces.”

“Fuck!”

You had been struggling for a month to get anything on paper and now you had to have an entire collection ready in two weeks. You wiped the cream cheese filling that has spilled from your bagel on the napkin and looked out the window. There was no way you could do it. But if you didn’t do it, you’d be missing a huge opportunity.

“Alright,” you sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Tell her yes.”

“You can do this,” Jason said with a smile, taking your hand across the table. “I believe in you.”

You wished you could be as confident in yourself as Jason seemed to be, but right now a knot of anxiety had just formed in your belly, the loose ends snaking around your chest, squeezing your lungs and making it harder to breathe.

“I should get going,” you sighed, grabbing your things just as Hallie finally emerged from the restroom, her expression lighting up as she noticed you were getting ready to leave. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye Justin!” Hallie called out over her shoulder with a barely disguised smirk as she followed you outside, her own uneaten veggie sub in hand.

“What was that?” you asked with a suspicious frown as the two of you made your way back to the store. “Justin?”

“I messed up his name. Sorry.” She shrugged looking to anyone else like the picture of innocent, but you knew better. So you just stared Hallie down, eyebrow crocked up in expectation, arms crossed over your chest. “Fine!” she sighed. “What’s up with you and Jason?”

You weren’t expecting this question and it took you by surprise, making you start walking again as a way to avoid Hallie’s piercing green eyes. She always had a way to look at you that made you just talk about anything even if she was just a kid and you shouldn’t just tell her everything you were feeling.

“He’s a friend, you know that,” you said trying to take the safe path out of this mess.

“Who’s clearly in love with you and you know it, Dave,” Hallie pointed out, quickening her step so she could step in front of you, making you halt. “Do you love him back?”

Of course, it would be Hallie to voice out the question that had been running through your head for years. Did you love Jason back? A part of you wanted to say yes. He was your best friend and had been with you through thick and thin.

He had been there through your parents’ death and Mary’s crisis and her death… He was there through all. He was that person you called when everything turned to shit and part of you knew you loved him. Of course, you did. You just…

“You love him but you’re not in love with him,” Hallie said with a soft smile and you huffed a breath, relief mixed with surprise. When did your kid turn that perceptive?

“I guess,” you shrugged, wrapping an arm around her shoulder so you could restart their walk. “I don’t really know why. He’s great, he’s just not…”

“What you want,” Hallie cut in, as usual, reading your mind and you nodded. “But do you know what you want?”

You thought about it for a moment, considering all the men you had been in love through your life. It had been many, especially not since Hallie, but there were two or three that left you wishing it could have turned into something more.

“He has to be good with kids,” you said at last. “And have a good sense of humor. He needs to understand that you and the store are my priority right now and he needs to have his own thing. I don’t like clingy guys.” You mused a little more, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “He needs to be kind, you know? And loving and supportive.”

As you spoke, you could see Hallie’s smile growing, her eyes looked brighter and excited like she was in on a secret that you weren’t, but you decided to let it go for the time being.

“And he needs to know how to cook, because you know I’m hopeless,” you joked, making Hallie laugh. “So if you know anyone like that, please send him my way?”

“Absolutely, Dave!” Hallie said with a quick wink just as you reached the store.

---

Keanu hummed happily as he busied himself with kneading the dough, a big smile on his face at his family was together joking and laughing as they got everything ready for pizza night as per tradition. It was the first since Annie returned from camp so he was determined to make sure she enjoyed it as much as always.

He would never admit it aloud, but ever since she asked for the camp, Keanu had been silently panicking. Annie was the most important person in his life right now and the thought of her growing up and slowly distancing herself, learning to be more and more independent, terrified him.

Keanu knew that he was being irrational. Annie wasn’t a baby anymore. She was a teenager and of course, she needed her independence and he needed to give her that. Help her build her life. And it wasn’t as if he was one of those parents that live for their kids. Yes, Annie was his priority, but he had Arch and his friends and family. He had a life. Which mostly consisted of his work life lately, but it was still a life, right?

Even if he couldn’t remember the last time he went on a real date with someone he really cared about. Maybe it was time to put himself out there again. Keanu wasn’t getting any younger and even if he had more or less gave up on his idea of the perfect little family, he still wanted to have someone in his life. Someone to share things, to love and support and who would do the same for him. Someone who understood Annie’s place in his life as well as Arch’s and how that didn’t mean Keanu would love them any less. Someone to share the wins and losses, someone to be his partner. Someone…

“Ke, I think the dough is good,” Karen called out making him snap out of his musings and look at her.

She was giving him a half-amused, half worried look from where she was cutting up the veggies for the topping. In her eyes, Keanu could see the silent question: was he ok? Did he need to talk about it?

He sighed and surveyed the kitchen. Annie was working on grating the cheese, while her cousin Daisy worked on the sauce. They were talking quietly and laughing like the great friends they were and Keanu smiled.

Even if he didn’t get that partner that he envisioned, he still knew he would be a pretty happy man. He was luckier than most.

“I’m good,” he whispered to Karen, wiping his hand on his apron, so he could pick up the pizza trays and olive oil spray so they could start spreading the dough. She just nodded in reply, her attention turning the two tweens to check their work.

It took longer than usual to get the two pizzas ready for the oven. One completely meat-free for Annie and Daisy and a pepperoni one for himself and Karen. Keanu really admired his daughter's stances on animal cruelty and he knew she wanted to go completely off animal products, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let her. Not yet at least. And it became something they could bond over, cooking together and the least fun bit of cleaning up together too.

“How long until they’re ready?” Annie asked, gathering the topping ingredients to store in the fridge. “I’m starving.”

Keanu checked the timer before turning to Annie to reply just to freeze as she casually popped a piece of pepperoni in her mouth. He glanced at Karen and his sister had the same bewildered expression that he sure was in his own face.

“Annie, what are you doing?” Daisy exclaimed, her tone getting high pitched and Annie stilled, looking at her. “We don’t eat meat!”

Keanu thought Daisy was overreacting a little bit, but the younger girl idolized Annie, following her around like a shadow whenever she came over to spend the summer and mimicking Annie in all possible ways, from her clothes to favorite music genre and lifestyle choices. Daisy had even gone off meat as well and he knew it was more to impress Annie than out of any real belief of her own.

“Right!” Annie said, looking alarmed as she glanced at her cousin. “Well, the camp had such terrible vegetarian options that I have to go back to eating it, but I’m going off again.”

She put the bowl of pepperoni away almost as if it had burned her before flashing a small sheepish smile to everyone in the kitchen. Keanu just shrugged. Sure it was weird because he was pretty sure he remembered something about the vegetarian menu in the camp as a criterion for her choice, but maybe it was just bad?

To him, it wasn’t a big deal. Annie was learning about herself every passing day and she was bound to go through changes. And sure, ever since she came back from camp, those changes seemed more prominent and it almost felt like Keanu was faced with a brand new Annie, but she was his daughter. She would always be his daughter, no matter how many little or big changes she went through.

So he pushed out of his mind, heading off to the back porch with Karen and some wine so they could watch the stars and talk while Daisy and Annie went to her room to do their hairs or something else.

Keanu laid back on one of the porch chairs, keeping a bit of a distance from his sister as he puffed in his cigarette, deep in thought. He could hear Karen shifting in her own seat, her intense gaze, much like his own, set on him.

“So mom is coming over next week,” she said conversationally and Keanu just nodded. He knew it already. “She has news to share.”

“Which usually means she has a new boyfriend,” Keanu sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Hope he’s not a dick like that Richard guy.”

“Me too,” Karen snorted. “How come our mom has a better love life than us?”

“I have no idea,” Keanu replied with a chuckle of his own. “Maybe we should ask for tips or something.”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe we should accept the fate that we’re gonna die single and alone,” he joked dryly and Karen snorted.

“Aren’t you cheerful person, tonight?” she said, giving him the sideways glance. “Is that what got you so moody? Singlehood?”

“Not moody, just…” he paused, considering his words, but he couldn’t find a way to really describe it. “I’m 55. Maybe it’s time to just let go. Dating, I mean. I have my family and Arch and my friends… that’s enough, right?”

“Ke…” Karen let out a long exhale and once again he could feel her gaze on him, heavy and worried. “You’ve always wanted to get married. Maybe it’s taking a bit longer, but you’re gonna find that right person. I’m sure of it.” She reached over to squeeze his hand. “I bet they’re somewhere out there and when time is right, they’ll come into your life. I do believe in fate, you know?”

“Well, could you tell fate to hurry the fuck up?” Keanu joked with a grin, squeezing Karen’s hand back to let her know he was alright and that she didn’t need to worry about him.

And even if she was wrong. Even if that person never came, Keanu knew he would be alright. He had everything he needed right here.

xxx (tbc) xxx

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